

Unleashed Fury

(BloodRunes: Book 1)

By Laura R Cole

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Laura R Cole

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please visit the author's website at LauraRCole.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
PROLOGUE

_It had been sleeping._

How long? It wondered groggily.

No answer came and it sank back to sleep.

It vaguely felt the world around it, and drank in the energies of those passing by, idly tasting as they changed generations.

But still it slumbered.

Then there was a whisper; A faint echo that tickled the back of its consciousness, stirring the being. Among the pinpricks of life-forces, one stood out; its bright blood-red aura calling to it. The presence struggled to wake, but the vestiges of sleep held tightly to it and it could only manage a dream-like half-sleep.

It tapped into its vast resources to make contact with the aura, but its movements were lethargic. If it waited until it woke enough to be able to command the power it wanted, the aura would be gone. Frustration fueled its resolve, and it managed a feeble attempt.

Elation suddenly flowed through the being. It had drifted back into sleep, but as it felt the aura come closer, its sleep was disturbed once more and it reached out hungrily.

Its thinking became clearer, and it wondered why it had slept so long.

Memories came flooding back, and the anger began. A deep rumbling growl came from within it, growing louder and louder as it remembered, shaking the very ground. It felt the fear of the life-forces around it and it reveled in the sweet taste, feeding off of the succulent emotion.

The anger was strong now, and the being used it to shake off the last remnants of sleep as it willed the places deep within it to awaken.

Its black aura seeped out and spread across the world and the presence felt as hundreds and then thousands of life-forces were extinguished, sometimes one by one and sometimes in large rushes of power.

It fed upon them all.

Its power was growing stronger. Soon it would be able to break free from the bonds that held it, free to unleash its power on the world and seek revenge on those who dared to confine it here.

Soon.

The power built up within it, surging outward like wildfire spreading across a dry field. The pressure was building. It could not be held back much longer.

And then suddenly the fire was doused, and the presence felt sleepy once more as an unseen force pushed it back deeper into its dark prison.

NO! It struggled to withstand the urge to sink back into sleep, fought off the calm that washed over it, but it was no use.

It slept once more.

Seasons passed, years came and went, and the world eventually forgot about the evil that slumbered beneath their feet. But the being didn't forget. It may have been delayed, but it was not gone. And this time it dreamt. Dreamt of how it would escape.

And it slept.

And it dreamt.

And then there was a whisper...
CHAPTER 1

Jezebel was fuming by the time her carriage pulled through the gates of her manor. The two stone lions guarding the towering archway growled down at her menacingly, and she scowled back.

_How dare he?_ She raged to herself. Usually she had no trouble turning her father's will into her own, but on this matter it was like trying to budge a stone wall. _Infuriatingly stubborn old man. It really is too bad he's so healthy._ She paused in her ranting as an interesting thought sprang to mind _. Not that accidents can't always happen..._

She quickly quelled the thought, however, shaking it aside. The simple fact that he was a noble and a man gave him significant power, and he was extremely well connected on top of that. It would be more trouble to have him gone than it was to change his mind. Normally he was quite nicely wrapped around her little finger.

She clenched and unclenched her fists.

_Although it_ would _be rather satisfying._ The memory of him patting her shoulder condescendingly and saying, "You're like the son I wish I had, but you're still just a silly woman," burned like acid in her mind. _Just a silly woman indeed_. _Someday I will hold the power; then he'll see just how 'silly' I am. Until then I simply have to endure the torment of his ignorance._ _He does still control the family fortune, after all._ She let out an audible snarl and pounded her fist into her leg. _I simply must gain one of the Council seats!_

The carriage jerked to a halt just then, catching her off-guard. She stormed out, and threw a berating comment over her shoulder towards the driver for his clumsiness, before stomping inside. She slammed the front door behind her, and dropped her cloak into the waiting arms of one of the servants. Without pausing, she stalked down the hallway into the library, and slammed that door as well for good measure.

She sat down heavily into an armchair and sighed.

_No matter. I always get what I want; I'll just have to get the support I need elsewhere_.

The thought cheered her considerably, and she reached out to take a sip of wine from the glass that stood ready for her, still chilled. A servant had made her wait for her wine once, but only once...her lips curved into a nasty smile as she allowed herself to entertain the memory for a moment.

Focusing her thoughts once again on the matter at hand, she took another sip. In doing so, she noticed a letter sitting next to the glass. From the look of the seal, it must be from Devon. Her stomach fluttered and she grabbed greedily for the note, tearing it in her haste.

"My lady," it read, "I am pleased to inform you that the possibility that I had mentioned has indeed become a reality. You should be seeing the results presently." Jezebel sat back slowly, a smile spreading over her thin lips. She had been humiliated, yes, but revenge would be so sweet...

*

Layna flinched as the front door slammed open, but quickly regained her composure enough to hurry forward to take her mistress's cloak. She caught it in midair with cat-like grace as it was shrugged angrily off the woman's shoulders. She opened her mouth to ask how the visit with Jezebel's father had gone, but the raging fire in her mistress's eyes silenced her. She deftly swept the cloak out of the way as the woman stormed past, neither uttering a word during the exchange. The footsteps echoed in the long stone hallway and ended in another crash as Jezebel closeted herself in the library to fume.

Movement caught Layna's eye and she gave Katrina a knowing smile as her friend snuck out the side door to the library with a look of profound relief on her face at having slipped out unnoticed. No one wanted to be in Lady Jezebel's way when she was in this type of mood. Even on her best days it was like walking on eggshells around her temper, and lately she'd had more bad days than good.

The lady's time was consumed by her most recent project to advance her into what she felt was her rightful place, though Layna wasn't sure exactly where she thought that was. It wasn't enough for Jezebel that she had been born into one of the wealthiest families of the noble class and her father doted on her every whim. Apparently, her rightful place was even loftier than this exalted rank, and she spent every free moment hatching new schemes to get there. They usually involved whining to her father to get him to do something for her; whether it was giving her the money to open a lace shop – which she planned to make a fortune off, until her father stopped paying people to shop there and she realized it was actual work – or buying her way into yet another social group – until they got sick of her constant self-importance, or they had worn out their usefulness and she moved on.

The latest plan, however, had Jezebel's favorite lackey, Devon, running around at all hours of the day and night. Layna had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that something even more sinister than usual was going on. The basement had been getting a lot more use as of late, and she shuddered to think what that meant. The door that led below was the one place that the servants had been forbidden to enter, and one that Layna was quite sure she never wanted to see.

Devon himself was an eerie presence, and she couldn't help but feel filthy every time he looked at her with his hungry eyes. His leering stare and loping gait, combined with the strange noises that emerged from the basement when he went below, had led more than one servant to the conclusion that he was not fully human. Legends said that the mages before the Massacre could change their form into animals like horses, bears, and wolves. No doubt these legends were what fueled the bedtime stories meant to scare little children into behaving about creatures like werewolves who would eat the unruly child who snuck out after dark. While she didn't really believe the stories, she could see how someone might imagine Devon as a werewolf. Though if he were really a powerful enough mage to have rediscovered the lost art of shape-shifting, Layna doubted that even the feelings that he had for the lady – which were obvious to everyone but the lady – would keep him in her service. _I'd almost say he looks at her with puppy-dog eyes if he weren't so much more like a pit-bull._

Footsteps interrupted her brooding and she looked up to see Lord Gryffon strolling down the hallway towards her. He smiled a greeting and she bowed her head to him in acknowledgement, avoiding his eyes and pressing herself against the wall to give him plenty of room to pass. A few steps past her he paused and turned back.

Her gaze was drawn upwards, seemingly of its own accord, and her heart stopped as his brown eyes met hers. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt as though the air nearly tingled between them as she waited for him to speak.

He looked undecided for a moment, his eyes searching for something. Then he gave her a quick nod and abruptly turned again, continuing on his way.

He exited out the front door, and Layna's breathing resumed. She closed her eyes and inhaled his musky smell.

Someone cleared their throat noisily, and she opened her eyes. Katrina raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly at her.

Layna looked away quickly, her face flushing, and she busied herself by hanging the cloak in the closet. She picked up the duster that had been abandoned upon her mistress's abrupt arrival and continued dusting down the hall, avoiding Katrina's gaze. Katrina gave her another pointed look when she peeked over at her, but then made her way towards the kitchen without a word.

Layna pushed open another door, revealing a massive and elaborately decorated sitting room, and she sighed inwardly. It was her mistress's formal sitting room, and consequently was never used, but it had _so_ many places that collected dust. Resigning herself to the arduous task before her, she took a deep breath and set to work cleaning away the dirt of a never-used room.
CHAPTER 2

Jezebel would very much have liked to have skipped the evening services tonight just to spite her father. But, seeing as how he had his hand in several of her projects at the moment, she put on a happy face and attended.

The Temple of Naoham was an impressive building; tall stone columns lined the immense structure, each separated by a stained glass window that even on the darkest night seemed to glow with an unearthly light. The intricate patterns tangled around one another in a mystifying and ever-changing depiction of stories told in the scripture, the magic within them undiluted despite the passage of time.

The number three was prevalent throughout the artwork, a testament to the old ways. Many of the commoners still worshiped the Three and performed the old rites, but most of the noble class had realized the true Word was that of the Sleeping God, Nuko, who would return to them once they had achieved enlightenment and were prepared to have a god walk among them once more. Jezebel's family had been one of the first to comprehend the real meaning behind the scripture's words and had helped lead the conversion to the true religion.

_It's only to be expected that we would have been the ones to grasp the god's true intent_ , she thought proudly, her gaze resting on the statue devoted to her grandfather and her family.

Jezebel knelt at the threshold and hooked her little finger on her thumb. She raised the remaining fingers to her mouth, briefly brushing them up against her lips and then touching them to her heart before standing to take her place in the row of seats. People shuffled in and Jezebel's father came to sit beside her. She nodded curtly to him and he patted her on the hand. She resisted the urge to snatch it away and took a deep breath. _Patience,_ she told herself.

The priest strode to the dais, and a hush spread over the room. He stood below a gigantic round window at the front of the temple, his hands together in prayer. All at once, the three dragons that were depicted in the glass came to life and swirled around each other in a turbulent whirlwind. The priest could be heard intoning the homage to the Three and they circled tighter and tighter.

The priest threw up his hands and the dragons burst forth from the image, their suddenly very real wings creating a violent tornado of wind around him. He stood steadfast within its maelstrom, and then turned towards the congregation with a look of pure bliss upon his upturned face as his robes flapped wildly around him.

The three dragons merged their twisting forms together and manifested once more as the single gaping maw of the Sleeping God. Flames poured out of His mouth towards the priest, enveloping him and licking at the air around him. Several gasps could be heard and Jezebel peered around curiously to see who it was. Clearly they didn't spend much time coming to the services if they weren't accustomed to this display of the god's power. It symbolized the cleansing of the world and of the priest so that he was ready to pass on the Word. The fire died down and the shape divided, leaving the three dragons to resume their former positions within the picture which slowly dimmed to become simple glass once more.

"Welcome!" boomed the priest, and he launched immediately into his sermon on preparing for the awakening of the Sleeping God.

Jezebel's attention soon wandered. She didn't need a priest to tell her how to prepare for the god; she was ready for Him now.

She found it hard not to fidget, and couldn't stop her finger from tapping incessantly as the priest rambled on. _Devon has been working on this project for weeks now, or is it months? I've lost track._ The time to act was upon them.

She had been biding her time to work herself into a position of real power, and recently she'd learned that King Edward's untimely demise may have presented her with a unique opportunity to do just this. She had known already, of course, about his little accident: He had gone riding last week and come back dead upon his horse. It had been the hottest topic of conversation in court, with rumors circulating about the possibility of foul play. The hunting party with him claimed that they had seen nothing untoward, however, saying that he had simply collapsed in his saddle in the excitement of the chase. The healers eventually declared the cause of death a weak and overextended heart, and it was determined to be nothing more than a tragic accident. Jezebel had her own suspicions, but that was another matter.

The part that now interested her was what she had gleaned during a luncheon with her cousin the other day. Because King Edward's unfortunate passing had cut short his reign before he could fulfill his duty and produce an heir, it apparently left the Council responsible for choosing the new ruler. Consequently, the entire Council would then be subjected to a vote to renew their position or be replaced. Having all six Council seats up for grabs would greatly increase Jezebel's chances of gaining one, and could finally put her into a position of authority that she so dearly craved. _And so deserve_. With her father's influence backing her, Jezebel would have been sure to be voted into one of them. But since he was being difficult and withholding that support, she would have to use...other means.

The outcome of Devon's operation could potentially solve this little dilemma for her, and he had recently found a new contact. There had only been rumors reported so far, but if even a small portion of what the rumors contained was true...

She stole a glance at her father, and bit back a scowl. She did so hope that it proved fruitful.

*

Jonathan shivered involuntarily as a cold breeze blew over his naked body. He was conscious of the many eyes upon him, their whites stood out in stark contrast to the dark shadows cast by the hooded black cloaks that served to veil their identities. He held his arms awkwardly in an attempt to cover himself. If they were disgusted by his form, however, none made any outward sign and he drew a deep breath to steady himself.

A cloaked figure led him in a solemn procession, past the lines of eyes, towards the altar at the front of the secret temple. His own eyes widened as the figure in front of him stopped at the base, and stepped aside to lay bare the scene before them. A towering sculpture of Nuko, the Sleeping God, stood staring down at him both hands outstretched. One cupped towards him as if expecting something and the other was held palm outwards with fingers spread. Chained to the latter was a beautiful young girl as naked as he, shackled at both wrists and ankles, with a spiked collar encircling her delicate neck. Her head lolled about on the chain attached to her collar, and she watched him through confused, unfocused eyes.

He felt himself responding to her sexuality, and a blush crept up his face as he remembered his exposed state. He fought hard to control himself, and tried to put the embarrassment out of his mind. He knew what was expected of him; he had spent years working towards this advancement. After glancing at his escort who gave him an almost imperceptible nod, he started towards the girl. Even through her drug-induced haze, Jonathan could see the terror behind her eyes, but his advance never slowed. Soon, her eyes rolled back in her head. A single tear squeezed out to trace a glittering path down her cheek and eventually fall upon the floor.

When his task was completed, Jonathan stood back and his escort brought forward a cloak, draping it around Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan took it gratefully and awaited his next instructions. The man in front of him raised his hands and the rows of people started to chant, louder and louder, until the walls of the underground temple seemed to reverberate with their sound. Then he brought his arms down again abruptly, and silence filled the air.

"You now join us on the path to knowledge, my brother, and I will be the one to show you the way." The man's voice echoed eerily in the sudden quiet. "As such, you may call me 'Master'."

*

Layna stood on her tiptoes to reach the gigantic family crest of two mean-looking serpents wound around a cross that hung above the fireplace in the sitting room. One of them hissed and took a bite at her hand, but she was too fast for it. She gave it a quick rap on its head with her duster before it could sink its teeth into her flesh.

It sneezed indignantly and glared at her before once more taking its place in the pattern. Layna shook her head, amused. Magic was wonderful, but she wasn't sure she saw the point of giving inanimate objects attitude. Unfortunately – _or perhaps fortunately_ – that particular brand of magic had been lost to the ages. It heightened the value of the manor to have such a remarkable display of talent still functioning. Jezebel never missed an opportunity to point this out to her house-guests – or anyone else who would listen.

Layna climbed down off the ladder and surveyed her handiwork. She didn't see anywhere else that had collected dust, so she gathered her things to leave. As she made her way out, she stuck her tongue out at the snake that had reanimated to watch her go. It hissed at her once more and she opened the door, laughing.

As she stepped into the hallway, her laughter was cut short as she collided with a hard shape there. She hastened to right herself, mumbling a frightened apology as she glanced up to see who she had stumbled against. To her horror, it was Devon. To make matters worse, he was roughly leading another man whose hands were tied behind his back. He arched an eyebrow at her as if daring her to comment.

The man he was leading was handsome underneath a blackened eye and split lip, but Layna knew better than to look further. She glued her eyes to the floor and hurried off. Servants who saw too much in these hallways tended to find themselves in trouble – or missing. Lady Jezebel did not tolerate any invasion of her privacy.

Layna heard the men behind her resume their journey, a muffled groan and a trip forward told her the man was again being shoved along, and Layna quickened her pace. She quietly slipped into the kitchen where she let out a sigh of relief.

"Whatcha sneakin' from?" a voice by the fire asked.

Layna yelped and swung around, searching for the owner of the voice.

She scanned the room, and her gaze landed on Lord Gryffon, who was sitting next to the fireplace. Her stomach fluttered and a weak, "Oh," escaped her before she could bite it back.

He was halfway through a dinner roll, which he took another bite of, and his eyes raked over her as he chewed. He smiled at her, sending a thrill up her spine, and swallowed before saying, "Sorry, didn't realize you were so jumpy."

"Oh no, I - " she started, pointing towards the door, but he cut her off.

"No need to explain," he said holding up his hands to stave off her explanation, "That was the lovely Devon I caught a whiff of out there wasn't it?"

She simply nodded mutely at first, but then remembered her manners, "Yes, sir."

"He makes me jumpy too," he told her in a conspiratorial tone, "And please don't call me 'sir', it sounds so stuffy."

"Yes, si...my lord," she answered politely.

Gryffon sighed dramatically, and playfully rolled his eyes. He got to his feet and came to stand next to her by the table. He stood a full head above her, a thin stubble lining his strong jaw. "Please," he beseeched, holding out a hand, "Just 'Gryffon'." She tentatively took the outstretched hand, and her stomach did another flip flop as its warmth nearly enveloped her cold fingers. He shook it twice before releasing her, a smile playing on his lips. "You're Layna, aren't you?"

She nodded again, this time her voice nearly escaping her entirely. "Y-yes," she finally managed to stammer out, "I came here a few months ago from the country, and Lady Jezebel was kind enough to hire me despite my lack of experience in noble households."

Gryffon surprised her by snorting. "Did you just put the word 'kind' in the same sentence as 'Jezebel'?" he asked her incredulously. Then he laughed.

Layna froze and stared at him, disturbed despite the warm feeling that his laughter spread through her. She could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard her in a conversation like this, and her eyes darted to the door of their own volition.

He seemed to pick up on her discomfort and he cleared his throat to continue. "I've been meaning to stop and introduce myself to you, but it never felt like the right time. From what I've seen, you seem quite competent at everything, despite her outrageous demands."

Layna could feel her face getting hot at the compliment and she quickly steered the conversation away from her, "Forgive me for asking, sir, but aren't you here as her consort?" She winced at her own audacity but couldn't help herself. The question had been weighing on her mind, and with him talking about Jezebel like he was...she had to know. It was met only with another laugh. Layna looked quizzically at him.

"Hmph," he snorted, "ensnared and kept against my will is more like it, but I suppose that's the story she's spreading. But that's a tale for another time. How are you liking the big city?"

Layna was still distracted by his admission that he wasn't Lady Jezebel's consort, and surprised herself by answering truthfully instead of reciting her carefully planned out speech. "It's a little overwhelming," she replied, "I've never seen so many people in one place before, not even at the markets. It's strange to walk down the street and not see even one face I recognize."

"I know what you mean," he sympathized, "perhaps I'll have to give you the tour some time, I've managed to make myself known to quite a few of them." He gave her a wink.

Layna shifted uncomfortably. As much as she dearly wished she could, she couldn't forget that he was still a noble, no matter how disarming his mannerisms were. And even if he didn't like Jezebel, she certainly liked him. Layna did not want to be between the lady and something she wanted.

"Um, I'm sorry sir, but I really must be getting back to my chores. It really was a pleasure to meet you."

She hurried off before he could reply, and slipped into one of the many passageways that snaked around the manor, making her way back to her own tiny room. Once there, she let out a real sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed. She gave herself the luxury of completely clearing her mind for a few minutes before she worked up the energy to sit up and start unlacing her dress.

As she slipped out of the heavy material and into a lighter night dress, she felt her tiredness from the day dissipating, and her mind began to wander. Absently, she wondered why Devon had been dragging that poor man down the hall. It couldn't be good news, Layna was sure of that, but she had no idea what Jezebel would want with someone who looked as though they had just gotten out of a bar fight. Layna had the sinking feeling that something bad was happening with the man even now, but felt helpless to stop it. She sighed guiltily. There was simply nothing that she could do. Usually Devon kept his dirty work away from the manor, and that was the way Layna liked it.

Someone rapped on the door, interrupting her brooding. She padded over to open it a crack and she peeked out. A thin ray of light shone into the hallway and illuminated the figure standing there. Katrina gave her a smile and a quick wave, and Layna smiled back, opening the door wider for her to enter.

"That was a close one today, huh?" Layna commented as her friend slipped inside and plopped onto the bed, indicating the close call with the Jezebel's rage earlier.

"Ugh," Katrina groaned, "Imagine if I hadn't gotten the wine there in time, or – gods forbid – I was still in the room and she had to be in the presence of someone so far beneath her?" Katrina shuddered theatrically and then rolled her eyes. "I swear, sometimes I wonder why I'm still here," she paused, and then held up a finger. "Oh yes," she said emphatically, as if really just remembering, "it's better than living on the streets." She winked.

Layna simply gave her a sympathetic smile. Katrina's parents had died of a sickness when she was young, and Katrina had actually spent a fair portion of her childhood on her own. While she joked about it now, she had opened up and confessed to Layna not long ago how rough it had really been. Layna admired her courage; her own life, which until coming here had seemed full of problems, now seemed like a fairy tale in comparison.

Katrina hit her with the pillow playfully. "Now, why you're here I still don't understand. Why put up with the evil lady when you could go home to the country?"

Layna picked at a feather that was poking out through a loose seam. Then she gave Katrina an impish grin. "But then who would you talk about all your crushes with?" Katrina threw the other pillow at her, and Layna laughed and tossed them both back. "So, did you talk to him today?"

Katrina groaned and put both of the pillows over her head. In a muffled voice she complained, "I tried to, but he makes me so nervous!" She stuck her head out from underneath the fluff, looking very pathetic. "Why can't I make my mouth move when he's near me?"

Layna patted her on the head. "It happens to the best of us."

Katrina narrowed her eyes and sat up. "Speaking of which, you've been losing your tongue and all other mental capacities in the presence of one Lord Gryffon lately. His complete deliciousness aside, need I remind you that he is off limits? Dangerously off-limits. Jezebel-will-eat-you-alive limits. I don't know how it is in the country, but in the city, the nobles are not to be messed with. I say this 'cause I love you. Look, but no touch."

Layna waved it off. "Got it, drool all I want but remember I'm still just the one that needs to clean it up afterwards."

Katrina continued to give her a look, turning her head so that one bugged-out eye was looking straight at her, and then raising an eyebrow.

"Alright already stop it. And get outta here, I have to get to bed." Layna shooed her out. "Oh, and tomorrow say something to him. Try 'hello'. Start small, work yourself up to an actual sentence."

"Ha ha," Katrina laughed, standing from the edge of Layna's bed where she had perched herself and skipping to the door. She opened it, but turned back halfway through, "Don't forget what I said." She pointed with two fingers to her eyes and then pointed to Layna. Layna blew a kiss at her. Katrina fake caught it and smiled, shutting the door behind herself.

_Gryffon has a gorgeous smile_ , Layna found herself thinking as she stared at the door. And though she mentally scolded herself for the thought, it was, after all, her own room and her own head. It wouldn't hurt just to remember...

*

Jezebel wiped a spot of blood off of her hand and smiled sweetly at the man before her. "I am _most_ pleased by this interesting piece of information. I _do_ so thank you for sharing it with me," she mocked as she caressed his bloodied face. He was almost unrecognizable as the handsome man that Devon had brought to her. She hooked a finger under his chin and tipped it upwards so that he was forced to look at her. The eye that wasn't swollen shut already cringed at the contact, and he jerked his head away in disgust, spitting blood on the ground in front of her. With amused contempt, she watched the spittle make a dark puddle on the floor, and then crushed it into the dirt with the toe of her shoe.

She stood over the man for a long moment before turning to Devon. "See if you can't persuade him to tell us a little more about it, won't you?" Devon gave her a lopsided grin and moved towards the man once more in answer. With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, indifferent to the grunts of pain behind her.

She made her way up the winding staircase to the main level of the manor. At the top, she paused to glance through the peephole in the bookcase, to make sure that no servants were present, before pulling the lever to re-emerge into the library. She took a seat in the chair she had occupied earlier and settled in to happily contemplate this new information.

_To think, just hours ago I was worried about the chances of success without my father's support. Ha! If this man was telling the truth, and I think he just might be_ \- she laughed to herself, remembering the moment that he broke - _I may not need my father for anything anymore_.

She raised a finger to her lips and bit back the grin that was widening as she thought. _Not that the prospect of using a position of power that my father helped me attain against him isn't an entertaining thought as well, but getting the power without him and then rubbing it in his face is even better._ Jezebel forced her shaking limbs to calm their excited movement. _I cannot let myself get too excited before I know for certain._ Even so, she couldn't contain the elation she felt at the possibility of finally escaping her father's control, and she eventually abandoned all attempts to hide her mirth. It irked her to no end to know that even though she could lie, cry, and manipulate her father into almost anything, she still had to go through him. But if she could find a way to make this work to her advantage _...yes, yes the information just has to be correct and it_ will _work for me, I can't bear the thought of living in my father's shadow for another second now that I have caught a glimpse of escape. Whatever it takes, I will make it work._ Jezebel nodded to herself in decision and stood, making her way back to her suite. She needed to get a good night's sleep so she could start putting things into motion first thing in the morning.

On the way to her room, Jezebel passed Gryffon in the hallway and she moved to intercept him. "Gryffon, my dear, would you like to join me for a nightcap?" She gave him a seductive smile and moved towards her room suggestively.

"Thank you, but no," Gryffon answered shortly, trying to pass her.

She shifted, so that he was forced to brush up against her as he passed, and she leaned in towards him. "Don't forget why you are here, Gryffon."

He paused mid-step and turned to her, giving her such an intense look that it almost made her step back a pace. But she held firm and narrowed her eyes at him instead. "I am here," he said slowly, "because I believed your lies, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were a decent person until it was too late. Now I realize I was wrong."

She sneered at him. "If it wasn't for the money I lent to you, you'd still be out on the streets, not living like you are, so don't try to blame your bad decisions on me."

"Don't _you_ forget whose money that was," Gryffon retorted angrily, "Just because your father turns a blind eye to your hands in his purse doesn't mean that I don't know what's really going on here."

"My father gives me anything I want," she snipped. "That's how it always has been and how it always will be."

Gryffon opened his mouth again but shut it without saying a word, shaking his head in disgust. He pushed by her roughly and made his way down the hall, all the while muttering.

"I always get what I want," she yelled at him and was rewarded by another angry look over his shoulder. She laughed at him until he rounded the corner, and then she turned back to her door. She was slightly put out by his refusal, but she was not about to let that little set-back ruin her mood. He'd come around eventually; he didn't have a choice.

*

"...as such, you may call me 'Master'."

"Yes, Master," answered Jonathan without hesitation. He fell into step behind the man as his new master led the way back through the rows of hooded people. They filed out behind them as they passed each in turn. Master led him to a small room, near the entrance to the main temple, and motioned for him to take a seat. The two men sat in silence for a long moment before Master finally spoke.

"It is essential that the goals of the Order be achieved for the good of all mankind," he started.

Jonathan nodded his agreement emphatically. The man paused, and Jonathan waited patiently for him to continue.

"As you may know, the magic in Gelendan has grown weaker in past centuries. The great mages of old have become few and far between. The more time that passes, the more reclusive they become, and the less of them there are to start with. It is the hope of the Order to strengthen all of humanity by rekindling the talents to prepare for the return of our god, Nuko."

Jonathan braved a question. "How, Master?"

The man did not seem annoyed at the interruption, and, to Jonathan's relief, he answered. "Through the efforts of people who have proven themselves worthy countless times, such as yourself, we are working to identify all those with talent so that we may better assess the situation. The Priesthood and the Order are well intertwined, and we have contacts for you inside the temple who can provide you with a list of names. As you know, it is the law that all those finding that they possess significant talent must reveal themselves to the priests. Then, they must either be enrolled into the training program – paying the gods for the gift monetarily – or, if they are unable to pay the training fee, enter into the priesthood themselves – paying back this gift by a life of servitude. Therefore, they should have records of most of the talented, and much of your task will simply be organizing this list and double checking its accuracy. But you must also," Master emphasized, "make sure that you systematically check for signs of talent other places as well, and do not assume that all those who have it have come forward on their own. Despite the threat of death as a consequence for not doing so, there are bound to be those who won't."

"And what should I do if I find someone who has not come forward?"

"It is not your job to report any violators to the authorities, just to identify them to us with the note that they are rogue. We are merely doing an inventory at this point." He handed Jonathan an envelope. "Detailed instructions are enclosed, along with the names of the contacts I mentioned. I don't need to tell you to dispose of this after committing them to memory." Jonathan nodded as he rose to leave, reading it as a dismissal. As Jonathan reached for the doorknob, Master added, "If you happen to see this," gesturing to a peculiar symbol painted onto a parchment on the wall, "make sure that you tell us. Perhaps soon I will be able to tell you why. There are plans that have been set in motion, and the completion of those plans is imperative to the success of our operations."

Jonathan nodded his understanding and continued towards the door. He opened it and headed back out to the streets and to his regular life.
CHAPTER 3

A rooster crowed, and Layna cracked open an eyelid, groaning to herself. _How can he be so lively this early in the morning?_ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and cringed as her bare feet hit the cold stone floor beneath them. On tip-toe, so as to avoid as much contact with the frigid surface as possible, she made her way over to the fireplace. Although the signs of winter were just barely beginning to show outside, Layna still thought it was much too cold for her liking. She sacrificed a piece of wood from the small pile allotted to her to warm the chill from her bones. She hurriedly pulled a tunic over her head, and stood in front of the fire as it slowly dissipated heat throughout her small room.

As the last of her morning chill faded away, she busied herself with making her bed and using the wash-bin to clean up. A long bath would come after her morning chores in the barnyard.

She pulled thick leather boots over her feet, and picked up a basket to head to the chicken coop. The halls were quiet in the morning, despite the fact that most servants were already up and about, readying the manor for their mistress's morning appearance. Like Layna, many of them held the same distaste for such early hours, so other than a few mumbled 'good morning's, the atmosphere was subdued.

Layna made her way down to the back entrance to the house and quickly slipped out the door, trying to conserve as much warmth inside as she could. The cold, raw morning air bit at her bare skin where it was exposed through holes in her tunic. The sharp intake of breath that the shock of it caused seemed to freeze in her lungs. She shivered.

As she drew near the barnyard, she heard a grunting noise. She looked curiously around the corner of the pig pen where it seemed to be coming from. There, Devon was struggling to lift a large burlap bag over the fence and into the mud hole that served as a compost pile. Layna paused for a moment with indecision, but then shrugged off her unease and moved towards him to help. She grabbed a corner of the bag and together they lifted it over the fence. It made a dull thud before water started seeping up through the frost and it slowly sunk a few inches.

"Thank you, Layna," Devon acknowledged with an odd smile.

Layna hoped her nodded reply didn't show her surprise and fear that he knew her name. She hurried off, feeling his eyes watching her, and she shivered again. This time it had nothing to do with the cold.

Soon the rising sun burned away the last of the morning fog, and her chill from the encounter diminished as the warm rays thawed her cold body. Layna hummed as she spread grain for the chickens, while methodically checking each of their nests for eggs. She let her mind wander, and her thoughts turned once again to Lord Gryffon, as they so often had been of late. It was a constant struggle between her head and her heart. Her good sense told her that no matter the outcome of her infatuation with the man, it was bound to be bad news. Either she would end up with a broken heart; as she let her feelings get out of control and inevitably those feelings were never returned. She was, after all, only a maid. Or, even if the impossible were to come true and he were to return her interest, where would that get her? Quite possibly a one-way trip into the basement accompanied by Devon.

A sharp pain in her hand brought her abruptly back to her surroundings. She realized that in her day-dream she had left her hand down where the chickens could reach it while feeding them. One was busily trying to pick every last crumb from her finger and had ended up taking some skin with it. Layna withdrew her hand and sucked on the offending digit, where a tiny droplet of blood was forming. She quickly threw the rest of the feed down onto the ground, and the chickens converged to gobble it up.

She hurried through the rest of the chore of collecting eggs, and made her way back to the kitchen with her prizes. When she arrived, the cook was already bustling around in the overheated room, and he barely had time for a nodded affirmation of the proffered eggs. Layna enjoyed the warmth, and made her way to the servants' table where the cook had indicated that breakfast was set out for them. She sat in front of her meal of porridge and a leftover roll, and was surprised to see a note next to the plate. She glanced around the room, but other than the cook, who was paying no attention to her, no one was around. Cautiously, she picked it up and saw that her name was scrawled on the back. _Hmm_ , she wondered, _who would be leaving me a note?_ She carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

"Layna," it read, "My apologies for upsetting you yesterday. Please accept this as a token of my desire for your friendship. Very Sincerely, Gryffon (Just Gryffon)."

She tilted the note and a small charm attached to a delicate chain slid out into her palm, a slight tingle passing through her as she touched it. At first she was elated, holding the necklace up to look at it, searching its design for hidden meanings. No more than a split second later, however, her senses kicked in and alarm overtook her. She quickly glanced around again to see if anyone was looking before pocketing the necklace. _If Jezebel ever finds out that Gryffon gave me a gift_...she shuddered at the unfinished thought.

She'd decide what to do with it later; it was too much for her to think about this early in the morning. She stuffed the rest of the roll in her mouth and hurried out of the kitchen to start the day.

*

Jezebel tramped through the halls of the manor irritably. _W_ _here are all the servants when I need one?_ She passed by the kitchen and was almost knocked over by a girl traveling much too quickly in her hallways. She opened her mouth to scold the girl that running simply was not something that was done here, but seeing as how she was in such a good mood, she shut it again and merely smiled. _Well, I've been looking for a servant and here is one in front of me_.

"My lady," the girl curtsied prettily in a gesture of subservience which further quelled Jezebel's anger. "I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy."

Jezebel looked her up and down slowly, as the girl held the pose waiting for her response, and she pursed her lips. The girl was very beautiful with a body toned by constant physical labor. Jezebel felt her eyes narrow to slits as she took in the long supple legs and ample chest underneath the battered tunic. _The days of using my female charms to get my way are behind me_ , Jezebel reminded herself. _There is no reason to feel threatened by this girl_. _S_ _oon I will be far too powerful to worry about such nonsense._ Still, she couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that threatened to well up inside of her. She shook the emotion aside and thought instead of her plans. Besides, by bringing the girl along, she could keep an eye on her as well. "Yes, quite clumsy. Go change into something appropriate for a trip to town and meet me by the main entrance," she commanded.

The girl looked startled by this instruction, but simply nodded her understanding and hurried along to comply. Jezebel strolled to the dining room and inspected the buffet of food presented for her there. She daintily picked up a pastry and nibbled on it, wrinkling her nose in distaste. _With all the money I spend importing spices you would think that even the incompetent fools in my kitchen would be able to come up with something decently edible. But no, apparently good food is simply beyond them. Being low-born as they are, they simply have no palate for refined tastes_. She put down the pastry and meandered instead towards the front door.

She was surprised to find that the girl was already waiting for her there. She had been hoping to be able to make a comment about having to wait. "Is that really the best you have to wear?" she asked instead, improvising. "Perhaps you'll have to pick up something more appropriate for escorting a lady while we're out."

Jezebel bared her teeth at the girl who wore a slightly taken aback look before wisely murmuring an apology, and Jezebel brushed by her to the awaiting carriage. She paused at the edge of the carriage and looked back at the girl expectantly. The silly little thing just stood there dumbly, with a puzzled look on her face, and Jezebel sighed exasperatedly. She made a motion for her to open the door. The girl's pretty little mouth formed a silent "oh" and she rushed forward, tripping in her haste.

Jezebel rolled her eyes at the girl's awkwardness. _Really, the servants' ineptitude at times never ceases to amaze me. I may have to have a word with Devon about his hiring choice of this one...perhaps he let a part of his anatomy other than his head influence his feelings and it caused a lapse in his judgment_. Jezebel growled under her breath at the thought.

The girl had finally managed to pull herself together and had the door open with a hand held out for Jezebel to hoist herself into the carriage with. Jezebel took the outstretched hand roughly. She settled herself onto the plush cushions and waited as the girl hopped in herself and took a seat opposite Jezebel on the wooden bench provided there.

The carriage jumped into motion and Jezebel gazed out the window at the passing streets. They rode by a run-down home where, as they neared, Jezebel saw a woman with a baby in her arms speaking with a guardsman. The words drifted to her over the clattering of the horse's hooves and she listened with growing annoyance to the pleading of the woman.

"Please, sir, without this money we won't be able to buy food for my baby. She's only eight months old." The woman had dirt smeared on her face and her clothes were torn and ratty, and the baby was in no better condition.

_She shouldn't be allowed to reproduce like that,_ Jezebel thought with contempt. _Disgusting, vile creature_.

"Please," the woman continued to beg. "We can't afford the taxes right now."

Jezebel sniffed her disdain at the woman and commented as they passed, "Isn't it sickening how many people are out there looking for a free hand out?" She smiled cruelly at the woman, whose gaze focused on their carriage for a moment, drawn by her voice. "What's that woman doing going around making babies instead of working harder so that she can pay her taxes?" Jezebel drummed her fingers on her knee. "If it was up to me, I'd have all those freeloaders thrown out of the city, but my father and other important people insist on keeping them, saying it's our duty to protect them in exchange for their taxes." She waved her hand in the air with a haughty flourish. "But look, this woman doesn't want to pay her taxes. What if an army came marching through, and I just decided that I didn't feel like it, so I wasn't going to send out my guards that day. No, I don't think so," she paused in thought. "Not that it wouldn't be tempting to show them what would happen if I didn't."

Jezebel chuckled and looked at the servant girl who was now staring out the window at the woman with a strange look on her face. When the girl noticed that Jezebel had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly, she turned back and made a sound of agreement.

Satisfied, Jezebel went on, "You should see the way these people live. It's really quite sad. You'd think that they would have some kind of instinct or something to clean up after themselves, but they wallow in their own filth and then wonder why they have plagues spreading through their populace."

Jezebel ranted along this same vein for a while, simply enjoying the ride, as the carriage made its way slowly through the winding streets towards the center marketplace. As they approached, the sound of the shops could be heard - vendors hawking their goods, coins jingling in purses, and the general commotion of a busy street. The driver halted the horses, and came around the side to open the door and help the two women out. The girl stood respectfully off to the side and folded her hands in front of her, waiting for Jezebel to tell her what to do.

"Come along, dear, we're going to go pick out new furniture for the sitting room; my father's treating me." Gathering her skirts around her, she flowed past the girl and deftly moved between the people in the crowd towards the woodworkers' guildhall.

*

Layna quickened her pace in order to keep up with Jezebel who was pushing past people with no regard for anyone around her. Given the arrogance she had just shown during the one-sided conversation in the carriage, Layna wondered if she had so much as an ounce of respect for anyone but herself. She failed to see how Jezebel could sit there and believe that she was better than everyone else simply because she happened to have been born into a wealthy noble family, but it seemed to be a popular sentiment among those born with status. Jezebel's father was powerful and well-known for his profitable investments into the gem trades and the formidable group of well-trained guards he had to move the gems, but Jezebel herself had nothing to do with his business. Layna's own family had been fairly well off compared to many others in their town, but she had never thought herself better than any of them because of it.

They reached the woodworker's guildhall, and Jezebel marched carelessly past the line of people to make her way inside. Layna followed, embarrassed by the looks she got from the waiting people, but made sure never to lose step with her mistress.

"Hello, Francis," Jezebel gushed to the guild master who sat behind a large oak desk just inside the building.

He stood and greeted her with a kiss to her outstretched hand, "Jezebel, how very wonderful to see you."

" _Lady_ Jezebel," she corrected, refusing to let his momentary lapse of etiquette pass without notice.

"Of course, my lady," he amended, bowing to her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Jezebel accepted the bow with a slight nod and smiled brightly. "I'm redoing the sitting room so I'll need some custom-made pieces as soon as you can possibly do them, charged to my father's account of course." She added, "It's a gift." Jezebel held her hands in front of her, palms upwards with her fingers interlaced.

Francis' eyes darted to follow the motion and he paused with a peculiar look on his face for a moment before answering. "Indeed, my lady, and a most beautiful gift it will be for such a beautiful woman. If you could follow me please." He gave another half bow and motioned with his hand towards a back room.

Jezebel started forward, then stopped and glanced back over her shoulder at Layna. "Here," she said extending her hand with a few coppers in it. "Go pick me out something from the sweets cart. I won't be long." Layna nodded and started to turn away, but paused as Jezebel added, "Oh, and do get something for yourself as well. Anyone who knows how to barter should be able to get two with that." Layna curtsied at Jezebel's insincere smile and continued to make her way back outside, glad to be out of the company of the woman.

Out in the busy street, Layna took a moment to orient herself before she spied the sweets cart over in a corner. She weaved her way through the crowd and contemplated the choices. They all looked amazingly delicious to Layna, but she had heard enough horror stories from the cook to know that Jezebel was much fussier. She eventually decided to get a pastry she had once heard the cook saying that Jezebel had enjoyed. It had been big news in the kitchen that he had been able to find something that Jezebel had nothing unfavorable to say about. Layna was able to procure just one of the tarts with the few coppers, having already known that there was no way she would be able to barter for two of any of them with the measly amount she had been given. She sighed inwardly and her mouth watered at the sight of the warm icing dripping down the sides.

Layna ducked into an alleyway to allow herself to lick where it had dripped on her finger. The sugary icing burst with warm, delicious flavor in her mouth. It was difficult to stop herself from stealing a nibble, but she fought to maintain control, and carefully carried her treasure back to the carriage to wait for her mistress.

She chatted idly with one of the merchants whose cart was near the roadside. "What do you have?" she asked the wrinkled old woman.

The merchant pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose and narrowed her eyes to inspect Layna before answering. "I've got books galore," she stated to Layna's delight.

Reading was one of Layna's passions, and she silently lamented her lack of money as she would have loved dearly to purchase some. "What kind of books?" she asked excitedly instead, hoping that she would get a chance to buy some someday.

"You name it, I've got it," responded the woman proudly in typical vendor fashion. She proceeded to list off an impressive collection of titles, some of which Layna had heard of, but most of which she had not. "I even have some really rare books," the woman said, "including this one here." She gingerly lifted a battered old book with a peeling red satin cover and continued, "Which mysteriously lists no author, and it is a limited edition! '10 copies made, none sold' it says, but I'll sell you one today. Just don't ask how I got my hands on this book, else I'd have to kill you."

The woman winked at her and Layna smiled at the old joke, regretfully declining. The vendor looked slightly annoyed at having wasted the effort on a non-paying customer and left Layna to try and interest someone else into buying her wares. Layna listened absently to the woman hawking books on spells that would make your true love find you, history books, adventure books, and all sorts of others. It indeed seemed that the woman really did have every book under the sun.

By the time Jezebel emerged, the tart had cooled and Layna shivered uncontrollably while hopping back and forth on her feet to keep them from turning numb. Jezebel snatched the tart and took a bite. Then, wrinkling her nose in disgust, she threw it over her shoulder into the gutter.

"I never eat these," she declared as she opened the door to the carriage and swept inside. Layna sighed, sadly gazing at the tart as it was ruined by the mud of the street, and hauled herself into the carriage after her mistress.

*

Jezebel laughed giddily to herself, ignoring the confused look the girl gave her. Joining the Order had been ridiculously easy for all their talk of great pains to protect their anonymity. A silly little hand signal and an oath of secrecy, and she was in. Devon had not been able to gather much more detail from the man they had spoken with the other night - apparently he had not been a very important figure within the society - but the name and signal were all she had needed to make contact.

It was fortunate for her that the name she had been given was that of Francis, with whom she already did business. It had been easy to contrive a reason to go see him, and she'd end up with a newly decorated room too. He had refused to give her any other information except a time and place for a ceremony she was to attend, and this irritated her, but she shrugged it off. She could find out the rest as she went.

The carriage jerked roughly into motion, but Jezebel hardly noticed she was so lost in her thoughts. _There must be a lot of different levels of the Order, which I suppose is how they think they keep their secrets. You can hardly tell what you don't know. That would explain the lack of knowledge gleaned from last night's entertainment. So really, all I have to do is work myself up in rank and I'll be able to tell the lesser ones what to do. And if I tell them to do something for me rather than the Order, who would be the wiser? Such a convenient little arrangement. I will be powerful behind the scenes as well as in the open – no doubt I can manipulate their plans to include my rise in power. That, combined with the support they will have to give me as my brothers and sisters, will guarantee me a Council seat and perhaps even more._

She paused a moment in reflection. This was a project on a much greater scale than she had ever attempted before. She would have to make sure that she kept track of it all. _There certainly are circles within circles of information layered throughout its intrigues, but I'm sure I can unravel its mysteries and use them to my advantage_.

Already hundreds of possibilities were popping into her head at a rate she found difficult to keep up with. She poked her head out the carriage window to urge the driver faster so she could mull over the ideas at leisure in the comfort of her own home. Or perhaps she'd have a guest; she felt like a little gossip after all the excitement. It could be her first test for herself, keeping the secret of her newfound "friends" while entertaining herself by giving the person just enough information to entice them with curiosity while never actually telling them anything. As she settled back against the cushioned seat once more she let her mind wander, a smile permanently affixed to her face and completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

*

Two cloaked figures stood in the shadows, watching the carriage pull away. "Would you like me to have her disposed of, Master?" asked the smaller of the two.

"No," answered the other, with an other-worldly quality to his voice. "She is under the false impression that she will be invisible within our ranks. I will find it interesting to see what she will do under that belief." The speaker watched the carriage for a moment more and then a hand snaked out from within the folds of fabric, extending a parchment towards the other. "Here, take this. You know where. I want you to keep an eye on this one. She's dangerous, but she may still be useful."

"Yes, Master," the small one answered, taking the paper and hurrying off into the shadows. The lone figure watched for a moment longer before he murmured something to himself and he disappeared.

Jonathan held tightly to the paper that he had been given and carefully side-stepped a group of people huddled around a small fire in a barrel in the alley. He was nervously glancing about, making sure that no one had witnessed the exchange or was following him, when he ran headlong into someone.

"Oof," said a deep voice and Jonathan scrambled to retrieve his precious parchment. The man he had run into bent down and picked it out of a puddle, shaking it dry before handing it back to him.

He grabbed for it, briskly thanking the man as he tucked it safely away in the folds of his cloak and continued down the street. Jonathan was pleased that his work had been appreciated by his master, and already he was being given more information and responsibility. He wanted to make sure that he continued to impress Master as he had a request for the man. A request that he didn't seem to be able to get off his mind.

It wasn't far to the drop-off and Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief at having rid himself of his burden. That task completed, he made his way back home to carry out his newfound responsibilities.

*

Layna watched Jezebel as the woman yelled for the driver to hurry. _A_ _s if he could move any faster on these crowded streets,_ Layna thought disgustedly. She resisted the urge to shake her head at the woman before spending the next few minutes imagining what the tart would have tasted like since Jezebel seemed content to ignore her.

Unexpectedly, Jezebel giggled to herself. This time, Layna couldn't help but look at her strangely. _Getting new furniture can't be that exciting. She just replaced the whole library last year_. Layna added sarcastically to herself, _Charged to her father's account, of course_. Despite the look, the woman was still paying no attention to her whatsoever and that was fine with Layna. Hopefully, when they arrived back at the manor she would be able to catch up on the chores she'd missed during this little shopping trip.

Neither of the women said a word for the remainder of the ride home, but Jezebel never lost her smile. As they pulled into the driveway, she turned to Layna and commanded, "Prepare the library for entertaining. I think tea and some light fare will do. The cook should be able to whip something right up. You come along too; I want you there in case my guest needs anything."

Inwardly Layna winced. It seemed that her chores would continue to pile up, but outwardly she simply nodded. It would be taken care of, somehow. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, Jezebel practically leaped out in her mysteriously excited state, and Layna followed suit, making a beeline for the kitchen. The cook would rant at her about the short notice, but Layna wouldn't have time to listen. There were chairs to move around, tea to heat, and a number of other preparations to be made. Jezebel was very particular about the arrangements when she had guests over: One single flower in a vase on the table, her nonfunctional – _but prize winning!_ – sheepdog, long past its prime, must be lying like a statue by the foot of her chair – a feat which oftentimes took several tries to coax him there until Layna finally had to resort to dragging his limp form to the correct place – and wine must always be available, no matter the time of day.

Sweat threatened to start dripping down her face by the time that she had everything ready, and it was barely in time. Just as she was taking her place next to the tea service tray, a knock sounded at the door and voices echoed through the hallway.

"Jezebel, how are you?" asked a high pitched voice, and Layna wrinkled her nose as she recognized it as belonging to Renee. Renee was one of Jezebel's typical friends, with absolutely no backbone and no other friends. _The perfect person for Jezebel to prey upon_. Renee's favorite pastime was parroting Jezebel's words to anyone who would listen, even those people who had already heard it from Jezebel herself.

The two of them swept into the room, their billowy dresses flowing around them as they seated themselves, pointedly ignoring Layna. She busied herself pouring them tea and adding the exact number of sugar cubes and milk that each liked. Jezebel didn't like to have her conversation interrupted by questions from the help. It was better that Layna memorized the preferences. Each took their teacup without even a look in her direction. Layna listened absently to their chatter, watching carefully for motions that might indicate that they wanted their tea refilled or to be brought a cake that the cook had miraculously baked in time.

"I couldn't quite believe," Jezebel was saying, "that he had the nerve to call me Jezebel, as if we were friends or even close to the same status."

Both women laughed, and Layna found it difficult not to laugh incredulously at the two of them. After initially ignoring her, Layna noticed that Renee kept glancing over at her, and she glued her eyes to the wall to make sure she never made eye contact. She could feel the woman's eyes scrutinizing every inch of her, and Layna wondered what she was thinking. She didn't have to wonder long.

The next words out of the woman's mouth were, "What are you doing with this strumpet in your household? No offense to you, Jezebel, but really she looks like she could be one of the ladies down at the Golden Girls."

Jezebel took a sip of tea before answering, and when she did her voice was cold. "No, my dear Renee, she's not nearly pretty enough to be one of those girls. Are you, my dear? Nor do you have enough class."

She directed the last to Layna who brought her eyes to their conversation for just a moment, meeting the black beady eyes of Renee and then the deep brown of Jezebel, which laughed at her from beneath their depths, before she answered, "Of course not, ma'am. A simple peasant like me could never dream of the beauty that you ladies achieve, nor even come as close as the Golden Girls."

Gryffon was passing the room just then and stopped in to grab a cake. Taking a bite, he closed his eyes in mock ecstasy, and he shook the cake in Layna's direction. "You really will have to tell the cook how wonderful these are, simply delicious."

"Well hello, Gryffon. You know Renee, of course," Jezebel greeted him, paying no heed to his comment.

Renee stood and extended her hand to him. He took it gallantly. "Of course, how are you, Renee?" he asked politely.

She giggled as he quickly passed his lips over her plump hand, bringing a flush to her cheeks.

He humored her with a quick smile and asked, "And what's the gossip about today?"

Renee opened her mouth to reply, but Jezebel cut her off, saying, "We were just discussing whether or not we think Devon took a trip down to the Golden Girls brothel to pick up this maid." She gestured to Layna, narrowing her eyes, and asked, "What do you think?"

Gryffon looked over at Layna and raised an eyebrow, "Well, if she was at the Golden Girls, I could hardly blame Devon for it. If she was there, that's where I'd be too."

Layna couldn't control the quirk of her lips into the tiniest of smiles as Gryffon winked at her, though she was incredulous that he would make such a comment. Luckily, he blocked her view of Jezebel and by the time he moved she had regained her solemn look of indifference.

"Well, ta ta ladies, I'm off for the hunt. It's prime time for those big bucks to be out and I mean to bag myself a big rack," he gave Renee a stiff bow and nodded to Jezebel.

Layna fought hard to control the laughter that threatened to emerge. He turned his twinkling eyes towards her and winked again before whisking himself out of the room. Layna stole a glance at Jezebel, and could tell that the woman was raging underneath her cool exterior.

A chill ran down Layna's spine, all thoughts of laughter disappearing.

"That man is unruly; I really don't know why I keep him around," Jezebel said icily into the silence that followed Gryffon's exit.

Renee was still watching the door that Gryffon had left through. "He's quite a good looking man though, Jezebel, just that factor alone is pretty compelling."

Jezebel relaxed somewhat and laughed, but Layna could almost see the storm still roiling beneath her carefully controlled expression. "There is that," she conceded. "There is that."

The rest of the visit went somewhat normally, with idle chit-chat and only a few nasty comments directed at Layna for her inability to read their minds when they wanted more of something. Much of their complaints consisted of how Gryffon wasn't doing enough of what Jezebel wanted him to or not fast enough. How life in general simply wasn't fair. She complained to Renee that even though she was the most undeserving of bad things and always trying to help other people, things just kept popping up at her.

Like this woman Jezebel had come to the house a few times. Jezebel had lent her money to pay for one of her sons to have his talent trained – _wasn't that so very nice of me, Renee?_ \- and then she'd had the audacity to get sick and die on her before Jezebel was repaid. What she conveniently forgot to mention was that it was Jezebel's father who had actually lent the money, and he had only done it because he thought that the woman's family would feel obligated to back him in a coming vote in the merchant guildhall. _Not to mention she's mad at her for dying..._

Jezebel also kept hinting – not so subtly, though Renee did not seem to be picking up on it – that she had something exciting in the works. Something that she wasn't about to tell Renee about but obviously wanted her to know she wasn't being told. Unfortunately for Jezebel, Renee was apparently too dull to pick up on it, and Layna could tell that Jezebel's patience for her was waning as her more and more obvious comments continued to go unnoticed.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of listening to Jezebel complain about her life to an eager-to-please Renee, Jezebel announced that she was tired and needed to get some rest before dinner. Renee almost immediately sprang out of her chair to comply with Jezebel's request and quickly showed herself out. When Renee had gone, Jezebel turned to Layna. "I'm going out for a while. When I come back, I expect that all your normal chores will be done. You've done quite enough idling about for one day."

Layna felt another chill at the look Jezebel gave her and she curtsied deeply, holding the position until Jezebel had stalked off. Fear crept into her and she wondered if perhaps Gryffon had done her an injustice by his comment. She could hear Jezebel screaming for Devon down the hallway, and by the sounds of it she was already working herself into a frenzy over his delay in answering.
CHAPTER 4

"Devon!" Jezebel growled at the man as he hurried up to her from outside. "I have been calling you for the longest time."

Devon bowed deeply. "My apologies, my lady, but I come from the temple and hope that some good news might brighten your demeanor?"

Jezebel wasn't in the mood to be told she was in a bad one, but the prospect of news and what it most likely was concerning was tantalizing. She ushered him back inside the library.

The little strumpet girl was clearing away the last of the remains from Renee's visit. Jezebel glared at her until she gathered up the last of the dishes and closed the door behind her. She waited until the footsteps faded before turning to Devon. "Well? What is it?"

"After our little chat the other night with the brother, I took it upon myself to find out what these officiators of the event might be expecting of you at this ceremony you've been invited to."

Jezebel sat forward in her chair excitedly. "And?"

"And, I can tell you that you'll be told about the society that you are joining, how it is designed to benefit the greater good of mankind and can help each of its individual members in exchange for complete secrecy and obedience."

Jezebel waved a hand impatiently, "Yes, yes, yes. I know all that, but what am I supposed to do?"

Devon nodded his head once and grinned, sharing her excitement. "They'll read you the list of rules which you will swear an oath to uphold. My source was sketchy as to the details, but mainly they revolve around keeping it secret and carrying out orders that you'll be given. All you'll have to do is swear to it."

"As long as they don't mind me adding my own twist to their orders," Jezebel sneered.

Devon hesitated, and Jezebel thought she saw a flicker of concern flash across his features. "I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, my lady," he said carefully, "but do remember that these are not scheming merchants that we are dealing with. These people are dangerous."

Jezebel felt a stab of annoyance, but suppressed it. "Of course I will. Now, what else did you learn?"

Devon was silent for another second. Jezebel was about ready to snap at him that she could take care of herself when he continued. "Next, you'll be asked to share your deepest secret in front of their witnesses. The purpose for this seems to be so that they gain a certain level of control over you by playing on your guilt."

"As if anything I might tell them would seriously give them the upper hand," Jezebel scoffed. Devon had that look again so she sighed and made another impatient motion for him to go on.

"Finally, they will ask you a question, and this is the most important step." Jezebel drew her eyebrows together, waiting for him to elaborate. "Now the correct answer to this question was tricky to find out. They'll ask you if you will denounce the rule of the King to show your obedience to them. My source indicated that if you refuse to do so, they commend you for your loyalty. Interestingly though, these candidates are still accepted but they never rise any higher in the ranks of the Order. If, however, you denounce the King, they believe that it shows that you will be loyal to them above all else. They see this response as a sign of intelligence, that you possess enough knowledge to understand that the greater good of humanity doesn't always correspond with the whims of the King. The people who give this response often find themselves with invitations to additional ceremonies and consequently move to higher levels within the Order."

Jezebel sat back in her chair and lifted a hand to her chin, letting it all sink in. Devon waited patiently for her to respond. "This source of yours, how reliable is he and how likely is it that those at the ceremony would that know I have this information?"

Devon gave her one of his sadistic smiles. "My source is quite knowledgeable, and conveniently, he does not have any clue that he talked to me at all."

Jezebel smiled, vaguely wondering at Devon's methods of obtaining the information, but was more concerned with the information itself. "Excellent. And the man we chatted with last night?"

"Taken care of, my lady. The pigs had a rather large breakfast this morning." He laughed at his own personal joke, and Jezebel raised an eyebrow in amusement. Sometimes his callousness amazed even her. "I would like to warn you as well, my lady, that although it was never mentioned outright, I suspect that there is some sort of magical binding in addition to any oaths they have you swear to, so be prepared."

"I'll do that," Jezebel answered, only mildly surprised at this insight. It should be expected from any society such as this that they would take measures to ensure obedience and loyalty. She had no doubt her own magical power would withstand any invasion of will that they could muster against her, however, so she was not overly concerned with this possibility. When she had done her training with the Priesthood, she had suspected that they had tried to put a binding on her, but even only partially trained she had been able to keep them from containing her powers. She didn't see why the Order would be any more difficult to withstand.

"I must admit that the society is extremely well formed and we were unable to discern the inner workings. My best agents can only make educated guesses at this point as to its real intent. Each level seems to believe in a different ultimate goal which disguises whatever the real purpose is. So again, I caution you."

Jezebel digested this piece of information. Admitting any sort of failure to her was no small danger, as Devon well knew - though she did give him more leeway than the others. This society must be impressive indeed. _Which just makes it all the more useful to me,_ she reminded herself. She soon fell into thought and dismissed Devon with a wave of her hand, telling him to send in someone with wine as he left.

She stood by the window, staring out into the growing darkness when the servant came with the wine. He poured it for her, and left it on the table next to the window before retreating. She hardly noticed his departure as she paced the room. _What sort of story shall I put together as my shameful secret?_ She considered. It had to be something that they would think gave them leverage over her. She wondered what kinds of stories they must hear and hoped that she would get to hear others once she was inducted. No doubt that would prove amusing.

Her pacing led her back to the window and she reached for the wine. A cold breeze blew over her hand as she wrapped her fingers around the glass, and she looked over her shoulder to scold the servant for having left the window unlocked. _Wasting money because of stupidity._ Unfortunately, he was already gone. She clicked the lock back into place so that it wouldn't be opened again by the wind, grumbling. _Must I do everything myself around here?_ She took a seat and cradled the wine.

Jezebel spent the next half hour perfecting her lie, going over every possibility and deciding which emotions would best fit with it. When she was satisfied that she had a believable story, she swallowed the last of her wine and went to find a servant to get her dressed and perhaps practice bits of the story on. She stood, momentarily dizzy, and thought absently to herself, _perhaps I should not have had quite so much wine_.

*

Jonathan was careful not to be seen as he exited Jezebel's estate and made his way down the deserted drive towards the city. It was another hour before Jezebel was expected to arrive at the location that had been given to her, but he wanted to make sure all was ready so that Master would be pleased. Master had gone to great lengths to get him what he had requested, and Jonathan was determined to repay the favor in full. The drug he had just slipped into Jezebel's wine would make her much more pliable for Master to work with. Jonathan was unsure as to why Master had taken an interest in this particular talent personally, but if Master wanted him to watch her, that's what Jonathan was going to do.

The sun was just setting, but people were already starting to clear out of the streets and Jonathan flitted through the shadows unnoticed. He carefully glanced around and ducked into a back alleyway to knock on a door there. A peephole window slid open and an eye stared at him expectantly. He made the sign; holding his fist in front of his mouth, while drawing back his sleeve to expose the emblem of the eye burned into the flesh of his forearm. The peephole clicked shut, and a moment later the door swung open. Jonathan hurried inside. He asked for the master and was ushered farther into the building, where an altar had been erected for Nuko.

As he entered, he saw that before it knelt the man that he wanted to see. Jonathan took a seat on the bench in the back of the temple, waiting for Master to acknowledge his presence and call him forward.

His eyes wandered around the room and came to rest upon an open tome that was balanced on the top of a pedestal, illuminated by the fires above. Within its pages, Jonathan knew that it told the true history, not the watered-down version that was commonly known. It was with pride that he had recently had the privilege of committing those pages to memory. His latest advancement within the Order had revealed much to him and he felt more conviction for their purpose than ever before.

The tome told how during the age of the Dark King, fear and bloodshed had filled the world as the Dark King rose in power and started the Massacre. Under his rule, the world was stripped of the unworthy as one by one he sent them to his death camps for slaughter. It became a time of blood-magic where those who were privy to its use were god-like in their power. The regular history books condemned him for these actions, but those in the Order knew that his cleansing had been important for the impending return of the true god, Nuko. The world must be prepared, and only the worthy would survive when His time came.

The Dark King had been on the right path for Nuko's reawakening, but had fallen prey to human temptations. He had been crazed by his own power, convinced that he was the god himself, and that madness had proved to be his downfall. He started sending powerful mages – who he convinced himself would oppose him – along with the unworthy to the camps, and in his paranoia ended up depleting the world's stock of talents rather than building it up in preparation for the reawakening.

After he was overthrown, the Order had banded together to protect the information about blood-magic and Nuko's return from the ignorant fear of the common people. The rebels who overthrew the Dark King had held a great book burning to try and purge the world of the sacred information about blood-magic, and it was only through the efforts of the first members of the Order that any of it had survived. It was the first goal of the Order to protect this information, to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and to use it to further the human race. When used correctly, it was an important factor in Nuko's resurrection.

Within the Order, there were those called the book-keepers who had possession of the books, and others who knew the keys to open them. The organizational complexity allowed no one person to control the power that each book contained. It was imperative that the information did not fall prey to the prying eyes of another of the ilk of the Dark King, hoping to deify themselves rather than make way for the true god's return.

Though the Dark King had made mistakes, and ended up failing because of his own ambitions, he was right in spreading the Word of the true god. Nuko was the one true God as the Dark King had tried to get the people to see. The trio of gods that the common people worshiped in their folklore was nothing more than that: lore. Physical acts of the Three hadn't been seen for centuries. But Nuko was real, and he would be returning. When he did, those who were in the Order who had spent their lives planning for his return would be rewarded in turn. _I will be rewarded._

Jonathan's thoughts wandered to Jezebel and her little crony, Devon. During his observation, Jonathan had been unable to fathom why Devon would continue to put up with Jezebel's demands on him and serve her so loyally. _Perhaps Devon secretly loves her. They certainly are two of a kind._ He tried to imagine the two of them together and wrinkled his nose in distaste. _But if that is the case, Devon is seriously unfortunate. Jezebel is simply incapable of love, she probably doesn't even know the meaning of the word._ He thought back on his observation of the two _. Not that working for her doesn't have other added benefits for the man. He is growing quite wealthy off Jezebel's unwavering trust in him_.

"Come," Master's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jonathan moved forward towards the altar. He bent down in reverence and whispered the blessings, waiting on bended knee for his Master to address him.

"Jonathan," the man finally acknowledged, "how was your evening?"

Jonathan was careful not to look directly at Master, whose face was always covered by a black mask underneath his cloak, and answered as cryptically as he had been asked. "She took her wine as usual and should be quite ready for her interview with you."

The masked figure stood. "Good. You've done well, Jonathan. Depending on what she tells me I may have another assignment for you shortly. Please be in touch."

Jonathan bowed, and then backed away from the altar. He was always in touch, as Master well knew. His current task finished, he made his way back out of the building with as much stealth as he had entered with and then quickly made his way back to his own humble abode, where the fruit of his labor was waiting to be reaped.
CHAPTER 5

Layna collapsed onto her bed well past midnight, having finally completed all of her chores. She ached in places she hadn't even known she had muscles. Sleepily she debated whether or not she had the strength to give her sore body a good soak in a bath or if she'd just fall asleep and drown. Her muscles screamed in agony, and she knew she would be denied sleep anyway, so she resigned herself to an even later night. So she pulled a towel out, and made her way slowly to the baths.

Once there, she almost fell asleep standing up while listening to the water pour into the tub and watching the heat of the steam rising out of it. When it was full, she slipped out of her tunic and dropped it on the floor. It made a metallic thunk, and she reached down to pick up the necklace that had fallen out of the pocket. She rolled the charm around in her fingers and stepped into the bath, delighting in the warm water soothing her skin. It was a half sphere of amber surrounded by rays of metal making it look like a sun. It was quite pretty really.

As she twirled it around, she wondered about the circumstances surrounding Gryffon's presence. The common belief was that he was here as Jezebel's consort, but neither of them seemed to act in a way that would lead anyone to believe that they actually liked one another, and Gryffon had denied it, though he gave no alternative explanation for his presence. _Very odd, very odd indeed_. _It will probably just be one of those mysteries that I'll never be privy to knowing_. She heard and saw quite a bit as a maid, but very rarely were the interesting snippets of information ever fully explained to her. More often it was just tantalizing tidbits that drove her crazy. It was a game among the servants to try and guess the real happenings in the household, but it was a frustrating game to play without ever knowing if you were right. Often their fun took on a sinister edge when some of the older servants got going about the 'evil lady' who, they were convinced, was a demon spawn. There were definitely some pretty disturbing stories that circulated the manor.

Layna put the chain she had been playing with over her head. _Maybe I'll just try it on. It's not like anyone knows who it's from..._ She noticed it was warm against her chest as it settled around her neck and she soon forgot it was even there in the comfort of the bath. As she soaked, her muscles slowly relaxed, and soon she had to drag herself out before she really did fall asleep.

She barely made it back to her room before exhaustion overtook her.

The next morning she woke up still tired, but at least her muscles were no longer protesting every move. She made her way down towards the kitchen, and was interrupted while eating her morning roll by the bell to her mistress's suite. Jezebel's voice sounded with it, another surviving magical enhancement, and one that she surprisingly rarely used.

"Someone bring me eggs and toast in bed," the woman commanded hoarsely.

Layna looked around and saw that the other maid who had previously been in the kitchen with her had conveniently just stepped out. _Imagine that_ , she thought with a hint of sarcasm though she really couldn't blame the girl. Layna prepared a tray of eggs and toast and made her way to the tower suite that Jezebel occupied. She stopped outside of the door and lightly rapped on it, waiting until Jezebel called out for her to enter before opening it.

Jezebel was still in bed and looked rather unhealthy. Her wavy dark hair was frizzing all over the place and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her already gaunt face looked more strained than usual, and the skin seemed stretched over her bony cheeks. She hardly looked at Layna as she waved her over. Layna held the tray out for her, and Jezebel gingerly took a piece of toast.

The woman held it in front of her for a moment, as if it was some revolting object, before taking a tiny bite. She closed her eyes and slowly chewed, swallowing with difficulty. She sat there for a while unmoving, and Layna had the urge to lean in closer to see if she was still breathing. She quietly sat the tray down next to the woman.

Jezebel cracked open one eye at her, as though she could feel the suddenly closer presence, and she grunted a dismissal at Layna. Layna happily obliged, gently clicking the door shut behind her.

*

The thud of the door echoed dully in Jezebel's head and she sneered at the girl behind it, certain the little minx knew how much of a headache she had and how much it hurt her to have the door slammed so loudly. She shoved the rest of the food as far away as possible, and brought the covers up over her head. The light hurt her eyes, and her heartbeat seemed to pound in her head. The faint smell of food that now permeated the room was starting to make her nauseous.

She didn't think she'd had that much wine last night, but apparently she had been more apprehensive about the ceremony than she had realized. Her memories of last night were hazy as well, which bothered her to no end. She hated feeling out of control, and was not impressed by the large gap in her memory.

She had arrived at the meeting spot and been led down into a basement. From there, she had been taken through a labyrinth of passageways, eventually opening into an underground temple. She had first been interviewed in a small side chamber by a mysterious man who she presumed was someone high-ranking in the Order. He had refused to reveal himself to her, despite her relentless questioning. He wore a black cloak complete with a mask which had served to disguise any recognizable features. Though the night was still a blur, Jezebel felt that she had spent a fair amount of time with this first man. Frustratingly, she could not recall what most of the conversation had been about, though she did remember surprising herself by unintentionally giving truthful answers to many of his queries. Having slipped up like that made her uneasy.

Once she had proceeded in front of the rest of the witnesses in the main temple, the initiation had gone much as Devon had described. By then, she was slightly more clear-headed, and able to recite the lie she had invented without mishap. She had then been forced to listen to the droning narration of all that was expected of a member of the Order, and finally asked the question that Devon said they would require her to answer.

As far as Jezebel could tell, the Order had believed her story wholeheartedly, and it delighted her that they had been so surprised and pleased by her immediate denouncement of the King. The witnesses had all been masked as well, and Jezebel realized that she was going to have to take her infiltration more seriously than she had previously thought. _Perhaps Devon was correct in his advice,_ she thought sourly.

Since she couldn't ascertain any of the identities, she had no idea what type of people she was dealing with. She could safely assume that they must be noble, as no lower class would have enough intelligence about them to form such a society, but which family they were connected to could potentially tell her volumes. _If only I had been able to find even the tiniest clue as to whom they were!_ She drew a calming breath. It wouldn't do to get so worked up. _Relax._ _I'll just have to be a little more careful until I know exactly who I'm dealing with._ She made a mental note to start Devon on the project of digging up any information as to who was involved with the Order.

She also remembered that they had indeed tried to magically bind her to their bidding. Although anticipated, it still angered her. _W_ _hat do they think gives them the right to try and force their way into my head?_ She found the very idea abhorrent; their inferior minds touching hers. _But see, I have nothing to worry about...I knew I would be more powerful than them, and I was. I even fooled them into the belief that their coercion of my loyalty was complete so that I didn't have to bother with a lie as to why it didn't work._

She also remembered a rather amusing detail with clarity. During the recitation of the rules, they had said that all those in the Order must follow the rules, and that being said, all rules were subject to change. Jezebel had the feeling that once she had established herself, many of its members would be easy to manipulate and turn to her own motivations rather than those of the society as a whole.

Jezebel laughed out loud at the thought, and immediately regretted it as pain shot through her head. She took a couple of deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. _Yes, the Order deserves some care to be taken in dealing with it, but even so it will work to my advantage once I have properly untangled all the knots._ The thought of the power possibly available made Jezebel feel light-headed and she once again had to close her eyes and breathe deeply in order to stop herself from having to rush to the washroom. _Damn wine,_ she swore _, I'm cutting it out of my diet entirely._

*

"Even knowing what she's capable of and what she's done, Master, I sometimes find myself drawn in by her lies. The forked tongue of deceit slips in and out so easily for her that it's almost imperceptible," reported Jonathan.

The masked figure nodded in agreement, "Mmm, I noticed the same. She is very practiced in the art of deception, and is well aware that most people do not expect such complete dishonesty. No one expects to have to confirm her stories. We will have to make sure that this is not the case with us. I want everything that she tells us to be double-checked. Even with the added...compulsion, I still caught her in several misleading statements." He paused for a moment in thought. "Were you able to get the message I sent you with delivered?"

Jonathan nodded. "I was."

"Good," Master said simply. "I want to see what she's capable of."

Jonathan would never think to speak out against Master, but failed to see why he wanted to keep this obviously untrustworthy woman around.

Master seemed to guess Jonathan's thought and went on, "I realize it seems unnecessary to have her, but as well as possessing her own interesting attributes, there is also her man Devon. Though a snake in his own right, he provides her with excellent information, information that I don't believe we would be able to gain access to, except through her. He seems to have a special," he hesitated, looking for the right word, "connection with her. By having her under our supervision, we can arrange for Devon to be useful for us as well as our fine lady. I'd like you to keep a close eye on her, close enough that you can see firsthand what's going on. I give you permission to reveal yourself to her as her guide, and I'll leave the details in your capable hands."

Jonathan flushed at the compliment and allowed himself a question, one which had been tickling his curiosity. "If I may," he started politely, "would you be willing to share with me just what this connection is? The one that Devon has with Jezebel I mean."

Master hesitated, and Jonathan could feel appraising eyes upon him from beneath the mask. "I will," he said finally. "The Lady Jezebel prides herself on her control of her magic. In reality, it controls her through her negative emotions. Both she and Devon are fascinated with pain and blood. On a night where the fine lady imbibed a little too much of the wine she so enjoys, she let Devon enjoy her. They unknowingly performed a ritual of binding through this shared fascination. Though neither would admit to the night having occurred, nor are they themselves aware of the connection, there is now an unmistakable bond between them which has revealed itself differently in each person. This is the information that I can give you. It is up to your capable intellect to deduce the rest which I am sure you will be able to, just as you will be able to fulfill my wish of properly inserting yourself into a position to gain access to the lady."

Jonathan bowed and removed himself from his Master's company. He was eager to prove him right, and his curiosity was dampened at least, if not completely satisfied, by this new information about Devon and Lady Jezebel. This new aspect of his project was proving to be very interesting – even if he was still unsure of Jezebel's worth to their operation – and Jonathan was curious to see how it all played out.
CHAPTER 6

Layna completed her morning tasks with no set-backs, relieved that her mistress's illness was keeping her in bed and out of Layna's way. Normal circumstances permitted her to get all the chores done early, especially since she had already tackled the laborious task of the sitting room. Therefore, she had a free afternoon ahead of her, and the anticipation of it was a feeling that she relished.

She had gotten permission to read the books in the library from Jezebel. The understanding was that she could sign them out under the condition that she was responsible for their replacement if they were not returned. Layna loved reading, and used any stolen moment to immerse herself in a story of someone's life that was more interesting than her own. _Which really isn't all that hard_ , she thought ruefully. She smiled despite the thought. After all, they said that leading an interesting life could be a curse.

She ran her hands reverently over the book she had borrowed, having finally decided on one about someone named Merlin in a far distant time and place. She packed this carefully into her bag along with a meat pie she had smuggled from the kitchen. She also grabbed a pair of mittens and a hat since, even though it was a sunny day, it was still somewhat cold outside. She was making her way out through the gardens to go sit beneath an old apple tree on the edge of the property when she heard her name being hailed.

"Layna!" called Gryffon, quickening his pace to intercept her. "Where are you off to?"

Layna smiled shyly and answered after a quick curtsy, "I finished my chores early so I was about to steal a moment and go read in the gardens, sir." She found that she liked the man more and more since yesterday, despite Jezebel's reaction his comment. Besides, Jezebel was in bed on the other side of the manner, and there was no one else out here to witness this exchange.

Gryffon smiled back at her, warmth seeming to spread across his handsome features, and he replied, "I was about to go for a ride. I just got a new stallion and I'd love to see how he is. Want to keep me company?"

Layna froze. It was one thing to have a conversation on the grounds with no one around, but to actually go somewhere together was a whole other matter. She was reluctant to spend time with someone so closely connected to Jezebel, even if she wasn't exactly sure what that connection was. He saw her hesitation and added, "I promise to take you somewhere to read and then leave you alone. Look," he said pulling a bow and arrow off his back, "I wanted to do some target practice anyway. I'll take you for a nice scenic ride somewhere you've never been and then you'll still get to read while I entertain myself with target practice. Deal?"

Layna still wasn't comfortable with the idea and her head was telling her to just say 'no', but the rest of her was eager to go. Her good sense lost the battle, however, as Gryffon had decided to take her silence as consent. He was already leading her by the elbow towards the stables. His directness threw her off-guard, and she didn't know how she could gracefully refuse the invitation. Instead, she obediently followed him inside where he stopped in front of one of the horse's stalls. _Besides, I'm supposed to do what the nobles ask me to, aren't I?_ The pesky voice of good sense grumbled something in the back of her head, but she ignored it.

While he grabbed the tack for the stallion, Layna wandered to the black horse stabled at the end. "Hello there, Gorgeous," she purred to the creature, stroking its mane.

Gryffon looked over at her. "You talking to me?" he asked jokingly.

Layna blushed furiously; glad her cheeks must already be rosy from the cold. "The horse on the end here, my lord. I come visit him sometimes and I nicknamed him Gorgeous, because, well...he just is." She smiled and patted the horse's nose. The horse lipped at her hand, looking for a treat.

"Too bad," said Gryffon grinning, pulling a saddle from its stand. "His real name is Fly, short for Firefly. He's one of my favorites. Would you like to ride him?" He glanced at her for approval and she gave a nervous nod.

"You realize, of course," she informed him, "that I've never ridden a horse before, right?"

Gryffon gave her a mischievous grin. "Nothing to it, old Fly here handles like a charm."

The word triggered her memory and she said, "Thank you for the necklace, by the way. It's beautiful. But I really don't think I can..." she reached up to take it off, but he interrupted her.

"Keep it. I promise I won't tell."

He gave her a wink, but said nothing more about it, so Layna dropped her hands a bit reluctantly and asked instead, "So what do I need to know about riding?"

Gryffon gave her the rundown of the basics to horseback riding, patiently explaining when she questioned parts of it. When she felt as though she at least knew enough to make a go of it, they led the horses outside, her with Fly and him with his new horse, Battle Axe.

"I didn't name him," Gryffon had clarified before she could comment. "He was already trained to respond to it when I got him, so other than shortening it to 'Axe' I'm stuck with it. One hell of a horse though"

Gryffon positioned her next to Fly and made a step with his hands; hoisting her up onto the horse, and helping her get her feet in the stirrups. The ease with which he lifted her up surprised her and she plopped down onto Fly's back with a loud smack.

"Oof," she exclaimed.

He chuckled and handed her the reins. In one fluid motion, he mounted his own horse, and after briefly demonstrating the commands, they began a slow walk. The motions of the horse felt jerky underneath her at first, but she soon learned the patterns of the movement and adjusted her own to match so that she and the horse were moving together.

As Layna became more comfortable, Gryffon urged Battle Axe into a trot and then a canter. He showed Layna each and then helped her to master them as well.

"You're a natural," Gryffon told her admiringly.

Layna simply laughed. She wasn't sure that her legs were going to agree with that statement tomorrow, but she did feel as though she was doing moderately well. "Why is it that you know so much about riding?" she asked, lulled into a tentative feeling of comfort by his winsome demeanor and the distance from the manor. Just the same, she added a "sir" a moment later, not quite ready to completely give up formalities just yet.

"I've always loved the animals for one," Gryffon answered after a short pause. "I grew up in the country, so if we wanted to go somewhere, we walked or we learned to ride horses. Now that I'm a big city man, I take them to get away from places instead of using them to get places. And, of course, to hunt." He grinned. "Hunting is my therapy. No matter what else is happening, I can always ride out into the woods and then there is nothing in the world but me and that big buck that I'm after." He sighed happily, looking out into space for a moment before focusing his gaze on her once again. "And how is it that you've never ridden before? Where did you grow up?"

"In Rockham," she answered and then explained since his blank expression suggested he hadn't heard of it. "It's a tiny village west and south of here. We had mules that pulled the cart, but we never rode them. We couldn't afford horses. Plus, my parents were very distrustful of people in general. They were happy to just deal with those in town and we rarely went anywhere else."

Gryffon nodded and then let the conversation lapse. They briefly rode in silence until Gryffon announced, "Ah, and here's the spot I promised you."

A small brook bubbled past an outcropping of rocks, and Layna gasped at the beauty of the landscape beyond it. Gryffon dismounted and helped Layna down, his huge hands encircling her waist and giving her a thrill down her spine. After a moment of appreciation for the view, she settled herself amongst a cluster of rocks that was covered in soft moss and rummaged in her bag for her book.

A frosty breeze down her back made her shiver involuntarily.

"Cold?" Gryffon asked.

She nodded, but shrugged it off saying, "I'm always cold, I'm convinced I am cold-blooded."

"Well, we can't have that," Gryffon exclaimed with mock indignation. He reached down to pick up a stone about the size of his fist, hefting it in his hand for a moment as if measuring its weight. Then he set it at her feet, and she watched with growing interest as he laid his hand over it. He whispered something inaudible and stood back. The rock began to glow red hot and soon it started to give off a radiant heat.

Layna gasped in delight. "How wonderful!" As the heat seeped through her clothes to warm her skin, before she realized what she was doing she crooned dreamily, "I think I'm in love."

She punctuated the last while batting her eyes dramatically at him and he laughed out loud. "Well, if that's all it takes, I'll heat up rocks for you every day."

Layna giggled, far more at ease with Gryffon than she had thought would be possible. "Where did you learn to use magic?"

Gryffon looked startled, but answered without hesitation. "At the temple of Ashwald, my father thought I had more potential than simply serving the gods through the Priesthood, making fireworks at services to impress the commoners." Gryffon grimaced, and looked quickly at her. "No offense." Layna made a gesture of acceptance. "My father was never a big supporter of the Priesthood. He said that they had wandered too far from their real mission. That they should be training those that went into their service as healers or something else that was useful to the people rather than trying to win over people's faith with cheap tricks." Gryffon shrugged. "Anyway, he scraped together enough money and sent me to the training instead."

"He sounds like a good man." Layna commented, touched by the affection in Gryffon's voice as he described his father.

"He was."

Gryffon walked to the edge of the brook and stood staring down into the water, deep in his own thoughts. Layna cracked open her book and was soon enthralled by the adventures of the great magician, Merlin.

In the back of her consciousness she was aware of Gryffon setting up a target and every now and then the quiet din of the forest would be interrupted by a twang, followed by the dull thunk of an arrow colliding with his target.

After a while, curiosity overcame her, and she stole a glance at the target. His arrows clustered together where he had made a large black dot in the center, and she commented appreciatively, "Nice aim."

"I give all the credit to the bow," he answered humbly. "The best damn bow I've ever seen made and the most eccentric man I've ever met who made it."

Layna gave a short laugh. "Oh?"

"Oh, indeed," he answered. "He is."

Their time was cut short by the setting of the sun, and the two of them made their way back to the manor. Gryffon asked her if she would join him again the next day and Layna surprised herself by accepting. She was light-headed for the rest of the evening. She knew she should stop now, that she was lucky she hadn't gotten in trouble for the time she spent with him already, and for the familiarity with which she had treated him. But it was thrilling. Both the thought of him, and - though she hated to admit it - also the excitement of something so forbidden.

The next morning she caught herself taking extra care in brushing her hair until it shone and putting on her nicer tunic after rushing through her chores. She chided herself for her girlishness, but smiled despite herself. _Fly isn't the only gorgeous creature I'm meeting in the stables._

When she arrived, Gryffon was already there waiting for her. They rode through the woods where he showed her how to spot deer sign; from the scrapes on the ground to the rubbings on the trees from their antlers. They talked about magic - Layna had been unable to stop thinking about Gryffon's use of it the day before. They both lamented how unfortunate it was that it had become so limited and that the law mandated that only expensively trained individuals could practice it outside the confines of the Priesthood. The number of people with any notable amount of talent was fairly small to begin with, and any who had it were carefully regulated by the priests.

"You'd be surprised how many people have latent talent, or a small enough amount of it never to have been required to do anything about it though," Gryffon informed her, much to her surprise. "That's why there're so many people that can activate the old spells if they know how, but very few who can actually make those spells anymore. And even fewer who are allowed to do it on their own."

Anyone who displayed even the tiniest level was required to report to the priests to be tested, and if it was determined that you had any discernable amount you had to enroll either in the training classes or with the Priesthood. Since the price of being trained was so outrageous, only nobles could even dream of affording it, and even then it was hardly worth the money. Gryffon, though a noble, admitted that it had been a struggle for his father to come up with the sum, and after having been trained, Gryffon was not all that impressed with what it had bought him. He told her that other than the showier spells like those seen at the temples, the priests couldn't - or wouldn't - teach their pupils much more. Layna was happy to note that despite being noble, Gryffon thought that the practice was unfair since the extravagant cost essentially forced any commoner into the service of the priests. _Not that it's probably much different from serving a noble household, but at least you would have a choice_.

"I wonder if I have a latent talent," Layna speculated fancifully, "Then maybe you could spell the rock so I could heat it when you're not with me."

Gryffon's eyes darted towards her and he gave her a strange look, which quickly converted to an impish grin. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?" She wrinkled her forehead in confusion until he continued, "And take away your reason for spending time with me?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, _that's_ why I spend time with you." He grinned. She quickly steered the conversation back towards magic. "Do you think that the priests know more spells than they are willing to teach?"

"Could be." He looked thoughtful. "There are definitely some spells that I have seen performed that I was never taught. But, it is possible either that someone came up with a new one, or that they were simply activating one of the old spells."

"You can do that?"

"Mmm-hmm. And actually, I just thought of another possibility; it may just be that I wasn't able to wield that much talent, or that there wasn't enough power available at the time, so they didn't bother teaching me that particular spell. Even so, I don't see the Priesthood parting with all their secrets. They probably have a few that they keep to themselves anyway."

"That hardly seems fair, but unfortunately it sounds very likely." Layna absorbed the information for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. "I've always known that there are old spells around, like Lady Jezebel has the snakes that come to life and her voice enhancement, but are those something that can be done anymore or has all that knowledge been lost?"

"A lot of it has been lost, though there are some people who have figured out how to copy them by studying how they are activated and how they work. A lot of the application of magic is imagination and creativity. Coming up with a new spell is like creating a recipe. You have to have the basic knowledge of the ingredients, and then you can try putting it together to make something new. Except with magic you have to be a lot more careful since you could end up blowing yourself up, or transporting yourself to a different plane, rather than just a bad batch of soup."

Layna's eyes widened in amazement. "Are you serious? You could go to another plane? What does that even mean?"

Gryffon laughed, and shrugged noncommittally. "Supposedly it used to be possible, but it would take a whole lot more power than people normally open themselves up to on a daily basis. So it's unlikely that I would transport us to Gamoland just by trying to start a fire, for example." As an afterthought, he added, "Though working with the elements is tricky, so you never know."

"What was it you said about the priests not teaching you because of....why?"

"Because I may not have been able to wield enough power for a particular spell, or the necessary power may just not have been available. As you might imagine, it takes less magical energy to do something small," he accentuated the point by flicking his thumb against his middle finger and starting a flame, "than to do something big, like if I were to try to set the whole forest on fire." He waved his flaming hand outwards, as if throwing the fire which simply went out. "In order to do a spell, you have to open yourself up to the power." He searched for the words to explain it to her. "Imagine a big barrel of wine. If you wanted to fill a cup, you would open the spout just enough to let a small flow out until your cup was full. If you were trying to fill a pitcher, you might open it a little more so it flows out more quickly and it fills faster. But if you open it too much for your container, it will fill too fast and overflow, making a big sticky mess. It's like that, only if you open yourself up to too much power the big sticky mess would be you. Some people have cup-sized talent, and others have pitcher-sized talent."

"So, the really powerful mages both have to have a larger amount of talent naturally and also either be really well trained or be really imaginative to have created a whole bunch of spells for themselves."

"Precisely."

"Wow. So are you cup-sized or pitcher-sized?"

"Hard to say the exact amount I have, I was definitely better than any of those who were being taught with me, but since there aren't a lot of the more difficult spells left, I don't know that I've reached my limits in order to know what they are."

"I bet you're a pitcher."

Layna spent as many stolen afternoons with Gryffon as she could, growing more and more impressed with him each time. She approved of his acceptance of the lower class as equals, and appreciated his knowledge of the outdoors and of history. He was much more enjoyable company than most that Layna had ever talked to, and her initial fear of consorting with him wore off slowly as more and more time passed without incident. Layna found herself seeking Gryffon's presence whenever she could, and taking advantage of the escape that the rides offered her. There was still that persistent voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was getting lulled into a false sense of safety, but it was easy to ignore with Gryffon around.

Back at the manor, Jezebel was rarely seen by any of the servants. Since the day she had been sick, she seemed preoccupied. Other than Devon's comings and goings, she seemed content to whittle away her time in her suite and in the library poring over the documents that Devon brought her.

Layna was in the hallway one morning when a knock sounded at the front door, and she hurried to open it. She pulled the large wooden door back to reveal a stodgy little man whose balding head made him look far older than the lines in his face would suggest.

"May I help you, sir?" Layna asked when he did not present himself right away.

He looked at her, startled for a moment, before replying. "Oh. Yes, of course. Please inform Lady Jezebel that she has a caller. You may tell her that my name is Jonathan, and that I am a friend of a friend with some information she may find interesting."

Layna nodded to him, and held the door wider so that he could step inside, out of the inclement weather, while she went to relay the message to her mistress. He stepped inside with a nod of thanks, and brushed off his cloak, which was heavy with the early winter snow that had started this morning. Layna held back a cringe as the snow hit her newly scrubbed floor, and excused herself to go inform Jezebel of her visitor, raising a hand to shift her necklace which was starting to stick to her skin with sweat. She knocked at the library door and opened it just wide enough to announce the visitor at her mistress's sharp query of "What is it?"

Jezebel put down the book that she had been reading and turned to face the door. "Very well then, what are you waiting for? Show the man in."

Layna curtsied, and went back to the front door to fetch the man into the library. His wet shoes squeaked on the floor, and inwardly Layna sighed. She presented him to Jezebel in the library and then hurried off to gather refreshments from the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with tea and crumpets. These she set on the table between the two.

"You certainly have an eye for detail." The man was complimenting Jezebel on an elaborate painting of none other than Jezebel herself that hung above the fireplace.

"Indeed," Jezebel replied. "I find that no matter how much I look there's always something else to find."

Layna glanced at Jezebel who gave her a slight dismissive nod, and she left the two of them to their discussion to mop the front hall and entryway. _Again_.
CHAPTER 7

Jonathan was pleased as he finished the spoken code. "That is the truth." He would have hated to have had to postpone the meeting if Jezebel had made an outward sign of recognition of the code, or had forgotten it altogether. This was one of the first tests for those newly initiated into the Order, and one that many people failed on the first try. It was imperative for the secrecy of the society that outside of sanctioned activities, its members did not display any recognition of each other, or their codes. The servant girl who had showed him in closed the door behind her, and Jonathan relaxed. She was a beautiful woman, and that made him nervous.

Jezebel was watching him expectantly now that she recognized him as a member of the Order, so he got right to the point. "As I told your maid, I am a friend of a friend, whose identity I will leave to you to infer for yourself. Suffice to say, we would like to invite you to join us in a very special mission." By becoming a member of the Order, Jezebel had agreed to take on any assignment that they wanted to give her; Jonathan made sure that she caught this nuance of this 'invitation' by his tone. "Details will be sent to you shortly, and I will be in contact with you for you to report your findings. We shall have to arrange a reason for my frequent visits so that no suspicions are raised. Though I come and go through court, none will recognize me, so other than explaining to your 'friends'," he said the word with a silent snicker to himself, "you needn't concern yourself. Next time I come, I will expect you to have this done."

Jezebel's lips tightened and Jonathan could tell that she was not used to taking orders, and she was not at all enjoying it. He smiled to himself. _She'll have to_ _get_ _used to it_. She was useful to Master for sure, but not so important that if she forgot who was in charge that she would be above reprimand. She surprised him by admirably holding her tongue, though she did answer through clenched teeth.

"I'll make sure that it is."

Jonathan rose abruptly and gave her a half-bow, "Then I will take my leave of you. I can find my way out."

He showed himself out of the library, and hurried past the girl who was busy cleaning the hallway, careful not to meet her eyes. He smiled to himself once he had reached the safety of his carriage. He had startled Jezebel by his swift relay of information and unexpected departure before she had been able to ask any questions. She needed to learn that questions were not something that was permitted in the Order, only obedience of commands. Master may think she was useful, but Jonathan had no intention of treating her with any undue respect because of it. He did not like the woman and planned to make that fact known. Master wouldn't care as long as he continued to gather the information that was required of him.

He had now fulfilled the first part of his plan by introducing himself to Jezebel as her contact within the society. Jezebel would soon realize that he was the only contact, and if she wanted to remain an active member, she would have to learn to deal with him. The instructions he was sending her were worded in such a way which implied, perhaps not so subtly, that it was actually Devon who was worth something and that she was not. Jonathan hoped that she would pick up on it.

He had arranged another little message for her as well and had no doubt that this one would hit home with her.

*

Jezebel was caught off guard by the man's hurried exit, and he was out of the library before she could respond. Her temper flared at his attitude of superiority and obvious assumption that she was completely in the dark about the Order. She rose from her chair to pace the room. _Well, he might be surprised to find that I have quite a few secrets myself. And not all of them are pleasant._ She let herself have a momentary daydream about unleashing Devon's 'skills' on the horrid man. _I'll bet even when he broke he wouldn't be able to tell me much more than I already know. I know about more of their secrets then he realizes._

She grumbled to herself. Someday she would be the one with all the power and then she would crush all those people who had done her wrong. _I wonder what kind of guise I could give him for coming to see me that would embarrass him_ , she wondered with a sudden inspiration. He had not presented himself with any title, so she was unsure of what his actual rank was. He acted like higher nobility and certainly thought that he was better than her. _I'll prove to him how wrong he is_ , she thought to herself. Already she knew far more about the Order than he could possibly suspect, and she had every intention of setting Devon to the task of learning the real reason behind this assignment she was being 'asked' to do.

If she had learned anything about people in power, it was that very rarely did they tell the truth of what they were doing. Not that she could blame them; it was much easier to get a task accomplished by not bothering to explain the real purpose to all of the pawns involved. If she had to get it through the servants' thick heads the whys of all her orders, she'd never get things done. However, she was not going to sit around and let the Order pull her strings, she was not a worthless servant who should blindly accept commands without question.

She sat back down in the chair and sipped her wine, having forgotten about her pledge to stay away from the stuff. She let the wheels in her mind turn to find that special something that would allow her to stand the man's arrogance just knowing that he had arrived here as... _something._ _But what?_ She asked herself.

The day wound down and still no brilliant ideas had hit her. Jezebel was frustrated enough to give up and go to bed when Devon entered the room through one of the secret entrances. His appearance startled her and she felt a wave of disapproval that he would enter her presence with no preamble. He looked serious, however, so she just sat silently, watching him as though she had known he was going to come through the wall at that particular time and had been waiting for him. He swiftly approached her chair and knelt next to it, a letter in his hand.

"Apparently, the Order wants to make it clear that they have been checking up on us as well, my lady. I found this letter in the confession box where I first learned of their society." Jezebel raised an eyebrow in a bored expression, and Devon quickly continued. "The priest whose lips uttered the secrets of the Order now lies dead, sprawled in a locked room in a pool of his own blood that spread seeping from a dozen wounds. The members of the church say that although his office was filled with rare treasures and items of value, the only ones missing are books, documents, and a few coins from a purse he carried. No one saw or heard anything, and I barely got out with this before the officials came."

Jezebel's expression had changed from boredom to worry and he held the letter out to her tensely. She knew that the Order protected their secrets vehemently, but it disturbed her that they had found out so quickly about the betrayal of trust, and reacted with such violence. She took the letter from Devon with slightly shaking hands, and fought hard not to show any hint of fear. Fear was an emotion she was neither familiar nor comfortable with, and not one that she cared to show any sign of. She carefully ran a nail across the wax seal to break it. ' _Consider this your warning'_ , it said, ' _We guard our secrets with our lives and our lives are forfeit if we fail. You would be wise to think upon this before reading further'_.

She glanced up at Devon and dismissed him with a nod, forgetting to reprimand him for his carelessness in her anxiety. He left reluctantly, obviously having hoped to be filled in on the contents of the letter, but Jezebel had no intention of sharing her secrets with anyone and ending up like the priest, her earlier confidence shaken.

Once he had exited back through the secret passage, Jezebel dropped her gaze to the letter in front of her. ' _With that said,'_ it continued _, 'we would like to invite you to use your extensive network of informants (run by your fine man) on a matter of real importance rather than waste his expertise trying to find answers to issues you don't even know the questions for'_. Jezebel frowned at this jab, and she could feel her face growing hot. ' _We have learned that our eastern neighbor, Treymayne, whose borders have been closed to us for hundreds of years, has started filtering a few people across at a time. We believe these people are spies, and we'd like Devon to help us identify them. For now, we'll expect his people to gather any information on traders, nomads, or any other person that cannot give a definite place of origin inside of Gelendan and report back to us anything that you learn. We will be in touch with you again soon at which time you may relay your findings and we will fill you in on more of the details. Thank you for lending us your help in this matter. We trust that you will dispose of this letter once digesting this information'_. It was unsigned and written in perfectly scribed letters which gave no clues to indicate anything to Jezebel about the author, though she knew it must be that worm Jonathan.

She reread it several times before walking over and tossing it into the fireplace where it crackled and curled up as it burned into a blackened fragment. She stood staring at the fire for some time. _Why is the Order suddenly interested in spies?_ A log snapped and a spark flew out towards her _. I_ _suppose that spies would pose a threat to their way of life if those spies were a prelude to conflict between the two countries_. _Perhaps there is already something brewing_.

Treymayne had silently been their eastern neighbor since the end of the Massacre and the erection of the barrier between them, and so far they had held on to a tentative peace with Gelendan. If the Order was suddenly paying attention to a country that had been ignored for so long, perhaps it was an indication of a future dispute.

This led Jezebel to a happy daydream; maybe she would get the chance to increase her kingdom if Treymayne chose to attack and was defeated. She could start an empire, claiming the mysterious Treymayne to the east and taming the savage lands to the north.

Jezebel's train of thought was punctuated by a yawn, and she decided to head to bed. Tomorrow she would think on this further. With that decision made, she headed to her suite. But it wasn't until several hours later that she actually fell into sleep, as she was unable to stop her mind from whirling. Some of it was happy thoughts of her eventual rule. But what kept her awake most of all, was the unwelcome fear that perhaps the Order was a force to be reckoned with after all.
CHAPTER 8

A knock sounded at Layna's bedroom door, and she hurried to answer it with a smile. The smile faded when she saw that it was Aaron standing there, a servant who had repeatedly displayed his interest in her, and who unfortunately was also the object of Katrina's affection.

"Expecting someone else?" he asked.

Layna flushed in embarrassment, but he didn't give her time to come up with an excuse.

"May I come in for a minute?"

Layna wanted nothing more than to tell him that now was not a good time, but the look on his face was more serious than usual, not his normal crooked grin in his attempt to be charming. So instead, she opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in. He stepped inside, taking a moment to look around her small room, and she closed the door behind him and then simply stood, looking at him expectantly.

"Look, Layna, I know you're not interested in me," Layna flushed again and wished that she had told him she was busy, "but I wanted to warn you not to get yourself hurt." She raised her eyebrows with wide eyes, uncertain what he was talking about. He simply gave her a stern look. "There's been talk among the servants of you spending an inordinate amount of time with the lord staying here." He paused and waited for her to respond, but when she remained silent he sighed. "I really don't want to see you hurt, but I know these types. He'll tell you all sorts of silly things that girls want to hear and then he'll end up breaking your heart once he gets what he wants from you. And worse, he'll probably tell Lady Jezebel about you and you'll end up fired – or worse."

Despite her initial flare of annoyance, Layna did pause to think for a minute, and the voice in the back of her mind took full advantage of her moment of weakness to run down all of the horrible things that it had imagined could possibly come of her secret friendship. If word was getting out among the servants, where gossip was like wildfire, there was no telling how far the stories had spread – or what they had turned into.

"Thanks, Aaron," she said simply, but he didn't look satisfied.

"Nobles don't court the lower class. They use us, and that's it."

"He's not at all like –"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, "It just doesn't happen. Whatever fantasy you're expecting in your head can't happen in real life. You will get hurt, one way or another." His shoulders slumped in defeat, realizing that he wasn't going to get any more agreement out of her than she already had. "Just be careful okay?"

"I will," she promised and hurriedly changed the subject before he could push it any further. "Hey, have you seen Katrina lately?"

"The pretty girl that's always hovering in the corner in the kitchen?"

Katrina loved to cook, though it wasn't part of her job, and in her free time she often stayed to help the real cook come up with new recipes. Layna couldn't wait to tell her that he called her pretty.

"Yeah, she wanted to ask you about getting some herbs for teas..." Layna made up a little white lie, if Katrina couldn't bring herself to break the ice, perhaps Aaron would. _And Katrina really does like making teas, someday she'll thank me_ ...Aaron happened to be in charge of the greenhouse and loved it; if someone showed an interest in his work he could go on for hours about it – a polite mistake she had once made herself.

"Really?" His eyes lit up with curiosity and Layna bit back a smile.

After planting the seed to hopefully spark his interest with a couple of other remarks about Katrina's interest in cooking, she ushered him out the door.

She sighed and picked up the project that she had abandoned, staring at it in thought. It was a gift for Gryffon, an armband to protect his forearm from the bowstring when he shot. She had thought it would be a nice gesture, a return favor for the charm, but now Aaron's words were disturbing. She had hoped that no one had noticed their stolen moments, meeting him at the stables rather than leaving the manor together and such, but apparently they had been more obvious than she had thought. _Now what am I to do?_ She wasn't as concerned about Gryffon being like the other nobles, she knew him better than that – or at least she thought she did – but if people were noticing, that meant that Jezebel could notice. And no matter what the situation really was between her and Gryffon, what mattered was what Jezebel might think of it. And what Jezebel might think of it spelled trouble for Layna. Gryffon may be able to get away with inappropriate comments to her and about her, but Layna at least had enough good sense left to realize that she would be afforded no such courtesy.

Another knock sounded at her door and Layna deflated, setting her work aside to go tell Aaron that she really was, in fact, taking him seriously. She was surprised when it turned out to be Gryffon, wearing a wide grin on his face. His smile was infectious and she returned it with sincerity, though she would have been happier to see him before her visitor, and perhaps not in her room which was only bound to fuel the more illicit stories.

"Are you up for a little tour around?" he asked her.

Her mind whirled, finally settling on a compromise. She would agree to today, but it would have to be the last, she'd bring it up with him on the way. "I'd love to," she replied finally, hoping he didn't notice the hesitance in her voice. She stepped out of her room and closed the door behind her so he didn't come inside.

"Excellent," he beamed, "I need to pick up something in town, so I was hoping you'd like to go for a little shopping trip."

Layna laughed. "Not that I have all that much to spend, but I do love to look!"

"I'll stop by my room to grab my things and meet you at the stables?" he asked, and she nodded.

They saddled up the usual horses and started the trek to town, falling easily into conversation. Gryffon seemed to have a never-ending supply of knowledge, and on the rare occasion that he didn't know something, he admitted it rather than making something up. It was a trait that Layna found refreshing. Layna picked up a thread of conversation that they had been discussing during their last outing, deciding that her bad news could wait until later.

"Why is it that in ancient ballads and stories, magic was predominant in society, and now there are very few great talents?"

Gryffon considered the question before replying. "Well, there is always the time factor." When Layna looked at him quizzically, he explained. "Stories become exaggerated over time, so it's hard to tell the truth behind ancient stories. But I, for one, do believe that there was more magic around. There are too many remnants of its past power surviving in spells, and even though I blame the priests for suppressing a lot of the talent that there is today, I still think that there used to be even more of us around. Do you know much about the histories about the Dark Age?"

"They didn't spend much time teaching us history in farm girl or maid school," she said wryly. "I have read some of the books on it in the library though. Enough that I know that the Dark King somehow became popular despite his twisted ideas, and eventually gained enough support that he elevated himself to god-like status. He explained to the people that he was preparing for the Sleeping God's return, but those close to him reported that he believed he was the god himself. That's when he started massacring all those who he didn't believe fit his definition of an ideal person. I'm not at all clear on the purpose or reasons that he killed the ones he did – I mean what made them unworthy in his eyes."

Gryffon nodded to her, obviously impressed by the amount of knowledge that she did have on the subject, which sent a glow of happiness through Layna. "I'm not sure that anyone can give you a reason for his actions, at least not any sane one, but they said that he was a very powerful mage who got that way by turning to blood-magic. Many believe that the power corrupted his mind and made him mad. The reason I mention it is that many of the people he considered to be unfit for the continuance of the human race were those who were also very powerful mages. Conveniently, these were also the ones most likely and able to oppose him."

Layna made a sound of acknowledgment as she chewed on this information. "Can you explain to me what exactly blood-magic is?"

"Remember how I told you that in order to do a spell you have to open yourself to the power and that in order to do some of the more complicated ones you had to have enough talent and enough power had to be available in order to do it?"

She nodded. "I'm not sure if I ever fully understood the part about it not being available though." She scrunched up her nose, trying to recall their previous conversation. "I remember you saying something about the priests not teaching you some spells either because you didn't have enough talent or there wasn't enough talent available, but I don't think you ever explained that last part."

"Okay. Let's go back to that for a minute then. To do a spell that requires a lot of energy you have to be able to open yourself to enough power, that is, be a high enough talent to handle it. More importantly, that power has to be available. Power is just like any other feature of the landscape, in some places there is more of it than in others. And, the more that get used up in a certain area, the less of it will be there."

"So are there places where there is no power because it's been used up?"

"Yes and no. If you use up all of the power in an area it will be temporarily gone, but it will eventually fill back in to its natural amount. It's kind-of like water in a pond. You can splash all of the water out of a section if you're really fast, but it will flow back in from the rest of the pond to fill the void. And, just like a pond is refilled by rain, the power is replenished by life energy. All living things give off power, whether they are talents that are able to use it or not. With me so far?"

"I think so."

"Mages who turn to blood-magic don't wait for the natural course of energy to seep out of a living being. They rip it from them."

Layna's eyes widened. "That doesn't sound pleasant."

"No. In order for a lot of the energy to be released, you have to kill the creature. Supposedly there are less severe forms of blood-magic where the mage can just drain a small amount of blood from his victim or inflict a non-life threatening wound, or even use his own blood to store magic for later use and such. But, it certainly seems to me that those lesser forms of it would simply be a stepping-stone to more sadistic magic once they've tasted the power and realize that by just going one step farther they can increase the amount exponentially. The more pain that is inflicted, the more power you get. Luckily, there are specific spells that the mage would have to know in order to capture the energy, the knowledge of which, as far as I know, was lost. Good riddance."

"Is that what the book burnings were for?"

"It's hard to say," Gryffon answered evasively. "Since the burnings were very thorough, we really have no idea the amount or content of knowledge that was lost. But it was certainly the original purpose. The rebels who overthrew the King were justifiably terrified of blood-magic and were the ones who initiated the burnings. There were no confirmed reports, but it was also thought that the Dark King's Bloodguard secretly participated in a lot of the burnings as well."

"The Bloodguard? Wasn't that the Dark King's personal body guard? Why would they burn them?"

"It's thought that the Dark King was doing more to the ones he called the unworthy then just eradicating them. There are rumors that he was experimenting on them, and using them for all sorts of other atrocities. It's possible that the Bloodguard took advantage of the fires to destroy any evidence of whatever other horrible things the King had been doing before they were ousted as well."

"What happened to them?" Layna asked.

"They were hunted down and forced to disband. They were then sentenced to punishments appropriate to their alleged actions, depending on how involved they happened to be. It's recorded that one of the leaders was whipped with 500 lashes, put on the rack, dragged behind a horse, burned, and then finally his ashes were thrown into the sewers. And this was after they tortured him for information. The details of his crimes were never publicly released. We can only imagine what monstrosities he must have committed to have been sentenced so harshly."

Layna wrinkled her nose in disbelief; both of the heinous punishment, as well as the thought of the kinds of things he must have done to others to have been thought to have deserved such a grisly death. "What happened to the Dark King?"

"He was never given a trial, at least not formally. A bloody revolt ended in the storming of his castle. The crazed mob found him, tried him, and sentenced him to death on the spot. His body was torn apart by their rage after he had been beheaded. It was buried in five separate spots so that he could never reanimate and wreak any more havoc on the land. It's said that his Bloodguard secretly dug up the remains and buried them together in a hidden location though. His two sons were spared because of their innocent youth and the pleading of their mother, who had not been politically inclined. Eventually they made a pact to end the bloodline so that their father's madness would not be passed through any more generations. Interestingly, one brother died young while fighting in a battle, and the other killed himself soon after."

Layna was quiet for a moment before asking, "What happened with Treymayne? Before the Dark Age we were all one big country, right?"

"We were," he acknowledged. "Like with most things, those who are different from ourselves are often the ones first ostracized. The eastern part of the country – what now is Treymayne – was somewhat separated already by the mountain range and the river, so they had a very different culture despite being unified as a country. So, I suppose that in the King's mind, who better to start with when you are performing a cleansing of the human race than those who have a different culture, and who you don't entirely understand. Lack of understanding leads to fear. When powerful men fear something, they don't usually just let it be. Apparently, after the revolt Treymayne decided that having its borders open left them vulnerable, and I guess they've never rethought it since. They erected the magical barrier, and there it stands today." Fly swished his tail and it whipped Layna smartly in the leg. "But anyway, that may or may not be a viable reason for why there is so much less magic around today. It is at least a possibility, as talent seems to be a trait that is passed from generation to generation. If you kill off all those who could pass it on, you won't see that trait anymore."

Layna nodded thoughtfully at him, and they both fell silent.

After a short while Gryffon spoke again. "So what is it that's bothering you?" he asked her, "We've been touching on every subject but the one I can tell is eating you alive."

"You're too observant for your own good," she told him, chewing on her lip. She had been trying to come up with a way to bring up the subject of the risk of their outings, but hadn't yet come up with a good way to do it. "Aaron, one of the other servants, came to see me today..." she started, but he cut in.

"Oh? And do we like this Aaron?" he asked her, a bit too casually.

"No," she replied definitively, and wondered if the emotion that had flashed across Gryffon's face had been pleasure or if it was simply her imagination. "No, he stopped by to say that people were talking, about us, and that the speculations of why we are spending time together are already circulating around."

"So what?" Gryffon shrugged, "Let them talk. What are they going to do?"

Layna bristled a bit, for the first time with Gryffon being keenly aware of the class difference between them. "Whatever they want, sir," she added the formality to remind him, "to me at least. There're no few stories of servants going missing when they've displeased the lady. And I'd say it would greatly displease her to hear some of the stories that are bound to be concocted about us." She flushed, "If I may be so bold as to say so."

Gryffon looked angry, his brow had furrowed in thought, and Layna looked away, worried about his response. "You can say anything you want to me," he said, his voice tight with anger but at his next words Layna was relieved to realize it was not directed at her. "But you're right, that worthless piece of slim that calls herself a lady is deceptively evil." He fell silent once more, a look of brooding on his face. She was about to apologize for having brought up the subject when he spoke again. "I've been terribly selfish, I hope that you'll accept my apology." He glanced over at her with such a look of concern on his face that she simply nodded. "You're absolutely right, I should never have put you in this situation. Of course it's not safe for you. Jezebel thinks she owns me and she doesn't know how to share. I was so busy just enjoying your company that I completely overlooked the bigger picture." Layna didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Gryffon urged Axe closer to Fly and reached out to squeeze her hand. "I hope you can still enjoy today, but I promise that after that I won't put you in danger any longer. Though I'll admit that I'll probably try and think of a way to see you safely, which I hope you won't deny me." He looked at her hopefully, opening his dark eyes comically wide and blinking slowly twice.

She laughed, "How could I resist that face?"

"I'm hoping that you can't," he replied and smiled at her before falling back into thought. Layna wracked her brain for a way to see him without causing suspicion, but all her ideas led to them alone in secluded places, which soon gave way to more intimate and ultimately dangerous thoughts.

They reached the city gates and were brought out of their reveries by the need to pay close attention to their surroundings in the busy streets, so as not to crush anyone under the horses' hooves. They dismounted and left the horses in a corral at the edge of town, where Gryffon handed a few coins to the stable boy, and they headed into the marketplace. They made their way into the midst of the vendors and shoppers, and Gryffon looked around for a trader who he called 'the woodsman'. This was, he had told Layna, the eccentric maker of his bow.

"So what makes him so strange?" she asked him curiously.

Gryffon simply smiled. "You just have to wait and see. Rest assured, you'll see what I mean shortly. Just try not to take anything too personally."

Layna joined him in laughter, though she was mystified by this last comment. The two made their way through the horde of people until Gryffon spotted the man he was looking for. The woodsman gave them an enthusiastic wave over the heads of the people in the crowd.

"Do I have arrows for you?" he responded incredulously when they had worked their way over to him and Gryffon had made his request. "Do I have arrows for you? What kind of question is that? Of course I have arrows for you. That's what I do, now isn't it? Do you think I'm here boondoggling around, wastin' my time in this frowzy crowded marketplace because I have nothin' to sell ya? I think not, my good lad. Perhaps you should take a look at your head there, an' make sure you didn' hit it in no donnybrook." He grumbled to himself some more, shaking his head in disbelief as he rummaged through a barrel in the back of his stall.

Gryffon was watching the man with an amused expression. He caught Layna's eye and winked at her. "I had to ask," Gryffon explained teasingly to the woodsman's back. "I wasn't sure if you would have had time to make them what with all those nymphs chasing you around in the forest."

"Hmph," came the muffled reply from within the barrel that the woodsman had his head stuffed inside of to search. Layna watched him, puzzled, wondering how he could find anything with half his body inside of it.

He suddenly pulled his head out with a triumphant, "Ah-ha!" and then reached in to draw out a quiver of arrows.

Layna was stunned. The barrel was not nearly big enough to have held the quiver. She couldn't help but stare in amazement as the woodsman continued to pull other items out as well, mumbling to himself, "So that's where that was..."

The woodsman turned back to them and looked at Layna, "What's the matter, girl, never seen a magic barrel before? Better quit your gawkin' and close that before a bug flies in. Not that there are any bugs in this gods-forsaken frozen wasteland." He glared around at nothing in particular.

Layna clamped her mouth shut and flushed with embarrassment as he continued to mumble. She wasn't sure of half the things he was grumbling, but she got the idea that it wasn't all complimentary. Gryffon gave her a shrug, and took the quiver of arrows being held impatiently towards him.

"You know," warned the woodsman, wiggling a finger at them, "it ain't just the nicies in the forest anymore. Usta be I'd run into a nymph or two in them there woods, but nowadays, I'm just as likely to be attacked by a dire boar or worse. Why, just the other day I was out in farm country in, oh, what was the name of that place again?" He put a hand to his chin, scratching the tip of it and narrowing his eyes in concentration. "By the gods, I can't for the life of me recall it!" He looked disgruntled for a moment but soon continued. "Well, anywho, this baron fellow came in all high and mighty around from the city amoanin' and groanin' that he'd been attacked by a monster on his way over. At first I thinks to myself, 'these city folk don't know nothin' about the country, he was prolly surprised by a coyote and let his imagination get the better of 'im but then he pulls open his fine robes and sure enough there's three gashes down the middle of him just like some creature made a swipe at him leaving huge cuts where the unnatural claws gouged out his flesh, farther apart than any normal creature's would be and going from here," he pointed to the nape of his neck, "to here." He drew a line down his chest and belly all the way to his groin making a slicing noise as he did so. "What I want to know is how he survived. He claims it was due to a healin' charm, but it musta been one powerful charm to keep him alive 'cause by gods, that wound was fierce." He whistled. "And so was his temper. Those high-born, no tolerance for pain..." He trailed off for a moment. "That was way up north, though," he said thoughtfully, "them parts are full of special things. I don't know no one who's come back from across the Ferryn Plains."

He got lost in his own thoughts then before suddenly making a little jump to face Gryffon once more. "So, what do ya think of my arrows?" Gryffon opened his mouth to answer just as a small gray cat bounded up onto the counter in front of the stall. At its appearance, the woodsman cut him off before waiting for an answer. "Ah, hello there kitty. What are you up to?" The cat settled herself down, wrapped her bushy tail around her, and proceeded to lick her front paw. The woodsman pet her, and the cat languished in the attention he gave her, standing and pressing her body against the length of his stroke, flipping her tail out as he reached the end.

Gryffon cleared his throat, "So, how much for the arrows?" The two men concluded their business and they left the woodsman to dote on the feline.

As soon as they were out of earshot Layna turned to Gryffon, "You weren't kidding."

"No, no I wasn't. One of the smartest men I've ever met, but he certainly has a strange way about him." They both broke into a fit of laughter.

*

The laughing couple remained unaware of the pair of eyes upon them, even as those eyes narrowed to slits at their shared amusement. "Devon," Jezebel said slowly in a dangerous voice, "the rest of your people can handle the task of looking for spies. I have a special job for you."

Devon followed her gaze and gave a nod of understanding as he recognized the servant girl laughing with Gryffon. "And what kind of job would you like it to be?" he asked.

"Simply watch for now," she answered languidly. "I want to see what they're up to. Then, perhaps, we'll have to make it something more interesting."

Devon gave another curt nod and left to set their plans into motion. Jezebel stood watching a few moments more before turning on her heel, her cloak spinning out behind her as she stormed off into the shadows of the alleyway.

Jezebel had worked herself into a tantrum by the time she reached home and immediately rang for a servant to bring her a cool towel for her head. _How dare he embarrass me like this?_ She paced back and forth in the library _. And with that low-life peasant nothing who obviously doesn't know her proper place in life._ She stomped her way to a chair and sat heavily down into it _. He should be grateful that I reduced myself to his level to lavish my attentions on him. And how does he repay me? By running around with that, that lowborn hussy! I can't let anyone find out_.

At that moment, a homely servant girl practically tripping over herself hurried in. She curtsied a greeting and hastily brought the towel forward. She turned to leave, but stopped mid-step, with wide eyes like a trapped animal, when her mistress spoke.

"Can you believe that he would do that?" Jezebel asked the girl, feeding off of the fear she could practically taste emanating from the maid.

"N-n-no, my lady?" the girl stuttered with a bewildered expression, slowly taking a step back into the room with obvious trepidation.

"Can you believe," Jezebel went on "that Lord Gryffon would have the gall to steal from me?"

The girl gave her an astonished look, and shook her head, but could not get a sound to escape from her lips. Her silence didn't matter; Jezebel ignored her and continued on blithely. "I have him here out of the goodness of my heart. Charitably taking him in when everyone else had deserted him. I even tried to make it look better for him by allowing him the pretense of courting me while he was here, even though I would never really be interested in a lower noble." She sighed, feeling a little better now that she was able to talk about it, formulating the lie as she spoke. "And what does he do? He has the nerve to take a cherished family heirloom from me. It must have been him because I know none of you," she waved a hand at the girl indicating that she meant the servants, "would do such a dishonest thing." Jezebel now turned to the girl and stretched out a hand which the girl took timidly. "Come, sit," Jezebel commanded, trying to soothe the silly little thing now. "What's your name?"

The girl sat gingerly on the chair, as though afraid her very touch could soil it. _And it very well might. Who knows how often these people bathe_ , Jezebel fleetingly thought to herself, making a mental note to have it cleaned. "Katrina, my lady," the girl answered in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.

"There now, Katrina, I couldn't very well let him blame it on one of you innocent people, now could I?" The girl shook her head and Jezebel smiled. "That's right, dear. You may go now."

The girl rose at once and made her way to the door, catching herself at the room's threshold, where she turned to give Jezebel a quick curtsy on her way out. Jezebel frowned at the door as it shut behind her. She'd tried to treat the thing nicely, and the brainless little ninny hadn't been able to keep her wits about her. Next time she'd know better than to bother treating the help as people. At least this one was quite mundane looking. That was some consolation. _Unlike that whore that Gryffon is paying attention to. I should have thrown her out the first time I laid eyes on her. I knew she'd be trouble._ She sat glaring into space _. Perhaps I'll have to arrange a little trouble for her...Yes, that would suit me very nicely._
CHAPTER 9

Layna was kept very busy the next few days as Jezebel had received an invitation to attend the coronation ceremony for the newly appointed King Nathair. She had ordered that all new dresses be made for her stay at the palace. Of course, each had to be made in several different colors so that no matter what color the other courtiers would be wearing, Jezebel would be ready with an appropriate outfit. Therefore, in addition to the normal upkeep of the manor, Layna and the other servants were frantically running around in a desperate attempt to keep up with their mistress's ever-increasing demands. Every time they felt like they had caught up, Jezebel would think of something else that needed to be prepared, only to change her mind once it was done.

Gryffon had been more subdued since their conversation, and other than a few stolen moments to exchange pleasantries, she had been mostly unable to see him. Though she knew that it was for the best, Layna missed him and couldn't deny that she had been disappointed when she had learned that he would be attending the coronation with Jezebel.

After what seemed like an eternity of running around to keep up with all of her demands, Jezebel and her party were finally off. As the carriages pulled away, Layna let out a sigh of relief and looked forward to a quiet manor. She sent a silent 'good luck' to the unlucky entourage that had been chosen to accompany them, and headed back inside.

That night, the servants gathered for their own celebration, and to gossip about the new King. Aaron attended with Katrina and seemed quite happy to dote on her, which amused Layna to no end. When Aaron wasn't looking, she gave Katrina a smile and a wink, and the girl beamed back at her. Both greeted Layna warmly as she made her way over to them and Katrina handed her a mug of cider wine, which she took gratefully.

"Good thing I like tea enough to make up herbs I need for one on the spot," she whispered to Layna, poking her in the ribs good-naturedly. While Katrina had found the time to run squealing into Layna's room to tell her the news that she had finally spoken with Aaron amidst all of the rushing around for Jezebel, apparently the conversation about why he had asked her what herbs she would need had only recently come up.

"You're welcome." Layna smiled and stuck out her tongue at her. Obviously the conversation had ended well.

They all huddled around the fireplace in the kitchen where the cook was making sweet pies for them. Layna listened idly to the conversations around her, chewing slowly on her pie, and savoring the flavor.

She caught Gryffon's name from the corner where Katrina and Aaron had migrated to sit with their heads together, and she directed a question to them. "What happened with Gryffon?"

Katrina looked startled as she looked up at Layna. "Wow, good ears. I was saying that for some reason today Jezebel felt the need to tell me that she thought that Gryffon had stolen something from her. She claimed to have such amazing faith in us that she just knew it couldn't possibly be a servant who had taken it."

Aaron snorted. "The day she gives any of us a sliver of respect when it doesn't satisfy some ulterior motive of hers is the day I'll eat my own boot."

Layna nodded in agreement, but Katrina suddenly looked worried. "You don't think she was trying to get me to confess to having taken it, do you?"

Layna shook her head. "She's probably just complaining about Gryffon when he didn't do anything. It seems to be a favorite pastime for her."

Aaron interposed, "Maybe he really did take it."

Layna shot back, slightly more nastily than she had meant, "Gryffon wouldn't do something like that; she's just a filthy liar." Aaron looked taken-aback by her conviction and gave her a strange look.

"We all know that most of what comes out of the lady's mouth is a lie, I'm sure it's nothing," soothed Katrina. Layna fell silent, listening to the rest of the stream of conversation and avoiding making eye contact with Aaron.

"I've heard that the new King Nathair is making all sorts of improvements to the system already, and he's not even coronated yet," said one of the gardeners.

The cook interceded, "Not that any improvements that they make are likely to improve our lives any." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Although, if they caused Lady I'm-too-good-for-everything to dine somewhere else more frequently, my life at least would get that much better."

They all laughed at this comment. This nickname for Jezebel was only safe to use when she and Devon were well away from the manor, but all the servants delighted in it. Luckily, such an important event at the palace was almost certain to keep them detained, so the servants could relax and vent their frustrations during that time.

Layna hadn't heard much about what King Nathair was doing except what she had happened to have picked up from conversations between Jezebel and her friends or her father. King Edward had died in a hunting accident, and it sickened Layna that Jezebel and her friends had seized upon the opportunity to gossip about it rather than mourn him. Since he did not have an heir, the throne was left empty upon his death, and the Council had been forced to choose the next-in-line. They had decided that King Nathair was a distant relative of the royal family and therefore considered him worthy enough of bearing the title.

Layna wasn't sure that she accepted the logic of naming someone King based on relations alone, but at least he supposedly was a good leader in his own right. Layna deduced from the snippets of conversation that the other servants were having that the King was busily proposing new laws. He was trying to give farmers tax-breaks; giving them the option of trading horses and oxen for back taxes. He wanted to fund some rather big projects like erecting buildings for improved food storage and wanted to re-open some of the ore mines which had been abandoned. Jezebel's father had made an off-hand comment about the improvements sounding an awful lot like war preparations. Layna felt a chill.

Jezebel's father was nothing like the woman. Jezebel was the epitome of evil as far as Layna was concerned, self-centered and completely dispassionate about anyone but herself. She was a very smart woman, but her arrogance was her greatest weakness. She seemed to be in her own fantasy world where she felt as though she could do anything she wanted, and no one could do anything about it because she was better than them all. This delusion seemed to make her less daunting as she tended to go about exacting her revenge in such a way that would only have worked if she really was the center of the universe as she had so convinced herself.

Jezebel's father, on the other hand, was a very smart man and unlike his daughter, his thoughts were also based in reality. His combination of intelligence and shrewdness made him even more dangerous to those who crossed him. But despite the unyielding force he was to most people, he fell for Jezebel's 'woe-is-me' attitude every time. He usually gave in and bought her whatever new item she simply had to have. _Like the new carriage she so desperately needed because the old one was too squeaky - and besides, Daddy, the neighbors have one just like it. Or when she had needed new curtains for the library because the color didn't compliment her eyes_.

Layna had noted that the conversations Jezebel had with her father tended to bring out a new Jezebel, a Jezebel whose world was entirely against her and only her father's money could fix it. Perhaps it was simply that love is blind. She was, after all, his daughter. Nevertheless, Layna was left dumbfounded by how glibly he bought her stories. Maybe he knew she was lying, but chose to ignore it, simply giving her what she wanted in hopes that maybe this time it would make her happy.

Layna wondered about their whole relationship. She had once overheard him shouting at Jezebel through the closed library door raving, "How could I have raised such a stupid daughter?!" Layna did not know what the rest of the conversation had been about as she had absented herself immediately, for fear of both their furious rages, but had almost felt bad for the woman in that instant. She couldn't imagine her own parents ever saying anything so hurtful.

Layna hoped that in the King's new improvements, he took a good look at the officials in the city and had the heart to care why their robes were adorned with gold while innocent people were punished. Layna didn't have much hope that yet another noble in power would care for the plight of the common people, but it was a nice thought. People like Jezebel's father were allowed to flourish because the system was so corrupt. If you had enough money, you could just about guarantee any outcome you pleased. It was what made it so dangerous to work for someone like Jezebel. She had the money through her father to get what she wanted, and the temper to ruin someone's life on a whim.

When Layna had first come to the city, she had imagined that it would be a more glamorous life than that on her family's farm. After all, Naoham was the capital of Gelendan, something interesting was bound to happen here. Her father had been very upset with her for even mentioning that she might leave and had not spoken a word to her for three whole days. He had eventually come around after much prodding from her ever-patient and coaxing mother, and grudgingly decided to let her go and try her hand at the big city life since it was what she really wanted to do. They were good, loving parents. Neither of them would ever have called her stupid as Jezebel's father had done - Layna had just found life with them smothering and simply had to get away.

She had packed up what few belongings she could call her own, and made her way to the big city. There, she had been directed by the guards at the gatehouse to a job agency where they matched people who were hiring with those looking for work. Layna had been completely out of her element and embarrassed when the clerk had asked her what she was applying for and she realized that she didn't have an answer. When the job appeared for the maid in Jezebel's household, she had jumped at the chance, despite her misgivings about her new mistress.

In spite of the downsides of working for Jezebel, Layna had managed to save some money and her dreams of becoming something on her own were still intact. She refused to go back home without making something of herself or she would never be able to live with her father's endless 'I told you so's'. Besides, if she went back he'd probably end up marrying her off to some boring old farmer and then she'd just be miserable for the rest of her life. Her parents were always so worried about her, and never wanted her to do anything where she might get hurt. But in her mind, that wasn't living. At least here it was somewhat exciting. She was in the midst of things, and though she rarely heard the whole story, she got tantalizing little snatches of court intrigue that fascinated her.

Layna let her thoughts drift back to the conversation around her and chuckled to herself as her own thoughts had nearly mirrored those of the current speaker, Katrina. She was asking if anyone had heard any of the new gossip about the nobles, their constant source of entertainment. Who was seen with whom. How relationships were going. Who and what was in style. It was such a silly little gossip train, but Layna couldn't help herself. She got sucked into it with the rest of them.

"I heard that Lady Renee may have actually found a suitor recently," she chimed in and explained as a flurry of excitement broke out at this juicy news.

When they had exhausted all avenues of who-knew-what in the lives of the nobility, Layna found herself stifling a yawn. She excused herself and squeezed past the gardener and stable boy, playfully batting at the hand of the former, which strayed puckishly towards her.

She paused just outside the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to find that Aaron had followed her out. "Watch yourself," he warned her.

"Excuse me?" she asked him.

"I may have been out of line the other day when I accused the lord of only using you. But all this joking and laughter," he waved his hand, indicating the party, "about the evilness of Jezebel is really not very funny. Servants actually do go missing and I'd hate to see you among them."

Layna's face grew hot. "There's nothing going on with me and-"

"-You don't need to convince me. It's none of my business." He glanced back into the kitchen and smiled at Katrina who waved back at him. Then he turned his attention back to Layna. "But I don't think it's just a matter of a broken heart anymore. If Jezebel found out..." he drifted off, giving her a meaningful look, "I promise this is the last time I'll bring it up, but please, just watch yourself."

Layna nodded soberly, and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks. Now, go enjoy yourself." Aaron reentered the party, and Layna made her way to bed, idly thinking that she missed Gryffon's company despite Aaron's warning. A strange pang of jealously twisted her stomach for a moment, thinking of them both at the palace, but she shook it off sheepishly. _Why in the world would I feel such a thing about Gryffon anyway? I simply enjoy his company. We're just f_ _riends_. In the back of her mind she knew that she didn't believe her own reasoning for a second, but she was too tired to argue with herself. She sank into the blankets gratefully; letting her body warm the chilled fabric until her cozy nest embraced her in sleep.
CHAPTER 10

Jezebel lounged on a luxurious couch adorned with gold ribbon. She stretched out her arms and crossed her legs daintily in front of her. "Isn't this wonderful?" she purred to Renee, who stood looking out the window.

The large woman turned towards her at the inquiry and gushed, "Oh yes. It would be so perfect to live here at the palace all the time. They have such beautiful gardens, and wonderful food, and everything is so," she paused, searching for the word, "perfect," she finished with a sigh, looking longingly around the room.

Jezebel smiled at her, amused by her obvious awe of their surroundings. Jezebel knew that this was really where she belonged, and no more than what she deserved. Her manor was far too small for a woman of her stature, and she was determined to move up into her proper place in life. That was why she needed to gain a Council seat, and had initially been looking for her father's support for one. Her mood soured slightly as she remembered the episode where she had asked for it. _His refusal soon won't matter though_ , she reminded herself. In exchange for loyalty and obedience, the Order would help you get what you wanted. _Or at least the semblance of loyalty,_ she amended _._ Frustratingly, that little rat of a man, Jonathan, had left before she could ask any questions. Therefore, she was currently stalled in her plans. Since she had no way of contacting him, she was left in a position of simply waiting until he chose to contact her again. She could feel herself getting worked up and fought down the emotions, stroking the soft fabric of the couch to soothe herself.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door and a flutter of excitement replaced her earlier anxiety. "Come in," she answered, cutting off Renee's acknowledgment.

Three maids entered, each carrying yards of fabric that threatened to overwhelm them. They quickly set the cloth on the unused furniture, and then curtsied to the two ladies. Once they had properly addressed the two women, the maids proceeded to unravel each of the lengths in front of Jezebel and Renee. Renee took a seat on the couch next to Jezebel and took a fold of the first yard in her hand.

"Oh, feel this one," she cooed, "it's simply divine."

Jezebel reached out her own elaborately adorned fingers towards the cloth and stroked it softly. The fabric was silky under her touch, and it shone where the light touched it. The deep red seemed to shimmer and flow across the fabric as if it were real wine. "Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I'll have to see the others though. Come along, dear," she said to the maid as she tossed the bit of fabric back up the length. "Let's see the next one."

The girl hastened to comply and brought out the next, a deep blue velvet. "What do you think the new King is like?" asked Renee, running her hands all over the velvet in a completely undignified manner. "I hear that he's some back-country royalty that laid claim to the throne after Edward's death. Somehow he got the entire Council to agree to appoint him even though he's from so far north."

"Yes," Jezebel replied. "As you know, my father is quite influential with the Council and he told me that Lord - excuse me - King Nathair was found to be a far distant cousin of Edward. The Council determined him to be next in line since his father, the Baron Asheron, just died last year. Plus, I hear he's made quite a name for himself on the battlefield. I expect he'll be looking for a bride soon as well. Do you think he likes green?" she asked, holding a delicate emerald fabric up to her cheek and batting her eyes.

Renee laughed. "Do you think he might be looking for one at the ceremony?"

Jezebel shrugged. "You never know. Men look for _it_ everywhere." She emphasized the word and gave Renee a conspiratorial look before saying effusively, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to snag the King? Just think of the power you'd get, and the allowance!" She trailed off, happily day-dreaming.

"Assuming he'd make a good husband, of course," added Renee.

"Of course," Jezebel answered agreeably. _A_ _s long as he's a good husband who knows to always listen to his dear wife_. Jezebel had heard quite a bit about the King from her father, but she didn't care to share the information with Renee. The woman was far too wrapped up in her domestic duties to have even an inkling of matters of real importance.

Jezebel had gotten her father to let her in on the secret that their new King might be amendable to loosening the priests' tight control on the use of talent. He was apparently already working to establish training facilities outside their supervision and there was talk of trying to open modes of communication with Treymayne to gather more knowledge about the magical arts.

Following the downfall of the Dark King, the people in Gelendan were initially too relieved to be rid of the tyrant to worry too much about what would happen to the future of magic-use following the mass book-burning that had taken place. The destruction of all this knowledge, combined with the depletion of talent that the Massacre had caused, greatly diminished Gelendan's ability to utilize this important aspect of life. And it was now further limited by the priests' constraints. The country had become far more handicapped in this respect than anyone had realized at first, and more so than many admitted even now. This handicap was made obvious, at least to Jezebel, by the magical barrier that had sprung up between Gelendan and Treymayne.

To Jezebel's knowledge, no one in Gelendan even understood the properties of the barrier, much less had any idea how to get past it or what kind of people were on the other side of it. Most of the commoners believed that Treymayne had just stopped allowing people to pass; they didn't realize that it was magic that kept it that way. If they knew, no doubt there would be a lot more unrest about their own country's lack of talent. Though their isolation made it difficult to determine what level of talent they actually possessed, there was whispered talk that their level and use of it was much greater than Gelendan's own. Luckily, they were much smaller physically so even if this were true, Jezebel had no doubt that Gelendan could crush them.

When King Nathair revealed his plans, there would be those opposed to the idea of bringing back more magic, when it was magic that had been so intimately tangled with the pain and destruction that the Dark King had caused. It had become the scape-goat for the Dark Age, and even now there were many who were afraid of its use in any form. However, there were many others who saw the importance of regaining this knowledge, and no doubt the commoners could be convinced as well, simply by reminding them that the status of talent in Treymayne was unknown and could potentially greatly outweigh what there was in Gelendan. With a few hints that Treymayne's greater magical talent would give them an advantage if the two countries ever had a conflict, even those who were against it would be sure to see the logic of regaining the information. Given these facts, Jezebel had great hopes that perhaps in her lifetime she would get to see the results of some real magic.

They had magic now, of course, she was trained to use it and did so from time to time, but using magic was like learning a language. If the teachers were lacking in their own vocabulary, it was difficult to attain any great level of proficiency as the student. She could activate surviving spells and perform a dozen petty tricks, but it was nothing compared to the magics of old. It was said that the old talents could call lightening with a flick of their wrist, transport objects and even people over large distances in the blink of an eye, and manipulate beasts into obeying their will. Jezebel couldn't imagine what it was like to have that kind of power, but she wanted to very badly. Though the Dark King was said to have fallen prey to madness, he was also known as one of the most powerful mages ever in history. In a way, she admired him despite his eventual failure. He had the entire country so in fear and awe of him that they actually killed their neighbors and friends as he named them unworthy. He had possessed the power of persuasion as well as being one of the most powerful mages of his time. Jezebel wondered if he had used mass mind control, which apparently was possible, or if he was simply that charismatic.

The priests had surprisingly taught them about mind control in their training, but even this lesson had only consisted with the basics. She had been rather astonished to learn that it would be included in their course, but her father had explained that it was because it ironically was one of the easier spells to do. People naturally tried to convince others to think like them, and when they did so while touching the power, oftentimes they could happen upon a spell which would carry out this wish. Therefore, the priests had learned that it was better just to tell people about it and how to prevent it, rather than dealing with the issues it was bound to cause after the fact.

Renee's nasal voice interrupted her wandering thoughts and she was abruptly brought back to the present. "Do you know anyone who's actually seen him?" Renee asked, forcing Jezebel to wrack her brain to remember what drivel it was that she was talking about with Renee. O _h, yes. The King's oh-so-important appearance._ She shrugged in response.

Renee went on cheerfully, "It seems as though no one knows what he looks like, but I'm dying to find out. One can't have a husband who doesn't inspire baby-making either," she joked.

Jezebel managed to give her a small smile, but the woman was beginning to irritate her. She was a harebrained fool with no motivation beyond finding a husband and doing her wifely duty of producing lots of offspring. _Not that offspring don't have their own uses as well, I suppose. Having young pliable minds that would listen to me above anyone else...hmm...maybe Renee has a point after all._ She brought her attention back to the fabrics and brought out a particularly hideous gold one. "Why don't you use this one," she suggested to Renee. "It would bring out your eyes."

Renee held it up to herself doubtfully, and a maid dutifully moved the mirror so that she could see. "You really think so?"

"Oh yes," Jezebel lied smoothly. "It's simply gorgeous."

*

Layna was shivering under her thin covers as a cold breeze found its way in through cracks in the window. Jezebel forbade them to use the normal amount of wood while she was gone. Since she wouldn't be there, the house would be empty according to her, and that meant that they should not need to use nearly as much wood to heat the place. Despite Layna's layers of all of the blankets that she owned, the chill bit through, and her nose ran with cold.

The sun was not quite up, but Layna was shivering so badly that it was impossible to sleep. She got out of bed, hoping that moving around would help to warm her. She did a little dance to avoid stepping on the cold stone floor, and hopped over to the wash-bin. The rug in front of it was a small comfort to her toes. Layna sighed as she prodded at what had been water last night. It was now a solid half moon of ice. She debated putting on some warm clothes and running out to the stream, but hated the thought of so much work before she had even had a chance to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes. _Too bad I can't just warm a rock like Gryffon can,_ she thought to herself regretfully, and then had a funny thought. _Maybe I'm really a high talent disguised as a maid so that no one will know that I'm here_. She laughed ruefully to herself. _Well, why not? Gryffon said it was like expanding your consciousness to become aware of the power around you._ Layna relaxed and cleared her mind of all other thoughts. She tried to become aware of a stream of power that she had always felt, but never known what it was.

She felt silly. Several moments passed and nothing happened. She was about to abandon her foolish charade when all at once a shock wave of understanding hit her. She grabbed for the power that she suddenly felt with both physical and mental being.

She was almost thrown backwards by the sheer force of the contact, and she let go instantly. She clutched her hand to her chest and cried out in pain. Eyes wide, she stared at the bowl in front of her. What had been ice just a moment before was now boiling water, bubbling wildly. Gingerly, she opened her hand and was horrified to see that her palm was red and blistering, as though she had just thrust it into a fire.

"Whoa," she whispered to herself, bringing her other hand up to rub her neck which had just started tingling.

Layna glanced around the room nervously as if expecting someone to have been standing behind her to witness what had just happened. As always, there was no one in the room but herself, and she quickly wrapped a piece of cloth around her hand. She'd have to make do with this makeshift bandage for the first of her chores and then sneak out to have it taken care of.

Layna couldn't afford a real healer, but there was a woman on the outskirts of the city who used poultices and herbs who was also extremely accommodating to those who had little to pay her with. Layna had visited her a few times and found her to be a peculiar, but very friendly, old lady. She concentrated on the pain in her hand and the need to hide it from everyone, not allowing herself to contemplate the enormity of the situation she had just caused.

Taking care not to further damage her hand, Layna sped through her morning chores, which were greatly diminished by her mistress's absence. Shock numbed her senses, and Layna found it difficult to think - and impossible to comprehend - the full consequences of the morning's event. As soon as she was finished, she popped into the kitchen and found the cook hard at work. He was catching up on making preserves and such that he normally had to forgo in order to meet Jezebel's outlandish menu demands. Laconic as usual, he simply grunted in affirmation of her statement that she was taking a horse to the healer's.

Layna hurried out so as not to give him a chance to ask where she had hurt herself and made her way to the stables. Thanks to Gryffon, she was now well versed in how to saddle up a horse. Though he often did it for her since it was easier for him to reach, he insisted that it was best for her to know how to do it herself, a fact for which she was now grateful.

She prepared Firefly for the trek and gingerly mounted, holding the reins with one hand. When she reached the gates separating the noble manors from the rest of the city, the guardsmen nodded to her and let her pass without incident. The streets themselves were almost deserted, most people preferring to stay inside on such a cold day. Because of the empty streets, Layna was able to ride Firefly almost to the door of the healer. A strange, yellow smoke snaked out from the chimney, spreading into a haze above the house as it fought through the bitter air.

Layna knocked gently on the door and waited. A moment later the door opened and a hunched-over old woman with mottled gray and white hair ushered her inside.

"Come in, child. It's freezing out there."

Layna followed the woman to a fireplace in the corner where a cauldron full of a bubbling yellow liquid hung over a blazing fire.

"There now. Warm your hands; you must be chilled to the bone."

Layna nodded gratefully and moved nearer to the hearth. The old woman puttered around, humming under her breath for a few moments, allowing Layna to thaw before turning to her and asking, "Now what can I do for you, honey?" She came over to sit next to Layna, and Layna offered up her palm wordlessly. The healer took Layna's hand in her own, examining the blackened mess. Her wrinkled fingers were firm but gentle, and surprisingly steady for one her age.

"Tsk, tsk. Perhaps I should not have told you to put your hands near the fire," she teased Layna good-naturedly, "though I don't think that's what happened here."

The woman closed her eyes, and Layna felt an odd sensation in her hand. The healer's brow furrowed. "These burns are from the inside," she murmured without opening her eyes. Layna waited patiently as the woman held the pose a moment longer, then opening her eyes to give Layna an appraising look. "Hasn't anyone told you not to play with fire, my dear," she asked, her voice a touch harsher than a moment before.

Layna began to disagree that she had not played with fire, but the woman cut her off, her tone once again soothing and soft. "I have no doubt you did not stick your hand in a flame, deary, but touching the power is no light matter. That's why people are trained to use it. And before you ask - no, I'm not going to make trouble for you."

She set to work spreading a huge glob of a foul smelling poultice on Layna's hand and Layna found herself saying defensively, "I didn't think it would work, my friend was trained and he explained to me how to - ow, OW!" she exclaimed as the woman forcefully prodded the worst part of the burn.

With a hint of sarcasm, the woman stated, "And obviously, he did such a good job." She sighed and released Layna's hand to go rummage in some cabinets. "Power is not something to be taken lightly. There's a big difference between being told how it is for someone else to use it, than to be taught how to use it yourself. That burn you have could have been much worse. Luckily, instinct caused you to release your hold immediately, and your level of talent allowed you to control as much of the force as you did, preventing the burn from being any worse. Many people would have ended up burnt to a crisp by the stunt that you just pulled."

Layna was aware that she was staring at the woman with a stupidly blank expression on her face, but she couldn't help it. She felt as though her body had gone numb as the shock of the realization of the full extent of the damage that could have been caused sunk in. She hung her head. _I could have killed myself. And now, I have no choice but to spend the rest of my life with the priests. What have I done?_

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, immediately ashamed. "Thank you very much for the healing and rest assured that I will go straightaway to the temple to report myself."

The woman fastened the last of the bandage on her hand and patted it with completion. "You most certainly will not," she stated firmly. "With the shortage of high talent around, I'm not about to let someone with as much potential as you go and waste yourself on the priests. I can feel something brewing in my bones. We're going to need people like you with their wits about them, not brainwashed into complacency by those charlatans." Her eyes crinkled as her weathered old face broke into a smile. "It seems as though you have someone watching out for you already. You mentioned you had a friend with trained talent?"

Layna found it difficult to speak, so she just nodded.

"Good. Think he'd be willing to train you, and keep it quiet?"

Layna's voice eluded her still, but her skeptical expression was enough for the healer. The woman bit her lip.

"Well, you just come back here if you find he won't. And do try not to let too much time pass before you ask him, whether it's him or me, I'd like to get as far as possible in your training before I have to go."

Layna's voice finally returned and she sputtered, "I can't just not tell the priests!"

"Why not? What are they going to do, kill you?"

"Yes!" Layna exclaimed with conviction, horrified by the very idea.

The corners of the healer's mouth turned downwards, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Good point. Not to worry, though, no one will ever know. A trained talent would have to actually take the time to examine you in order to detect it since your friend seems to have taken care of you in that respect. I assume you don't have much direct contact with the priests, with our lovely system the way it is, so that leaves nobles. How many nobles do you know that would inspect a mere servant for talent?" She gave Layna a piercing stare, and her tone grew more serious. "Believe me, girl. You don't want to go to the priests."

Layna was paralyzed by indecision. _All I have to do is go back to the manor and pretend like nothing happened. No one knows but me and the healer...but how did she know? Oh! What should I do?_

The woman broke into her downward-spiraling thoughts. "Things have a way of working themselves out, sweetie. Trust me. Just go home and go about your business. But do make sure that you contrive a reason to come see me again soon – one other than hurting yourself again. We need to find a way to get you trained."

Layna led Fly back towards the manor, warring with herself. Twice she turned the horse to the temple, and twice she redirected him home. She was too terrified to go through with it, and she soon found herself at the gates of the manor. She dismounted, feeling like a field mouse just waiting for a hawk to swoop down and snatch her up. Her uncertainty led her to stick with the norm, and she went back inside, trying her best to pretend like nothing had happened.

*

Jezebel smoothed the deep red dress she had finally decided on for the ceremony as she stood in front of the mirror appraisingly. She turned from side to side and wrinkled her nose. "Not enough in the back," she complained, irritated at the maid who was supposed to be helping her get ready. Jezebel was sure that the girl would not have been able to figure out how to even get the dress on her without Jezebel directing her every move. The girl moved forward to pin up more of the back and Jezebel looked it over, gazing over her shoulder into the mirror. "Better," she said grudgingly as the girl made another fold of fabric in one fluid motion.

Jezebel stared at her reflection. Her bright red lips matched her dress perfectly, though she had to send back two tubes of lipstick, and then had needed to resort to smearing the stuff on the dress to get it through the thick skull of the girl that they were not, in fact, the same color. Jezebel had given the girl one more chance and had been surprised that not only was the dress immaculately cleaned, but the girl had finally managed to get the right color lipstick.

Jezebel lifted her eyes and sneered at the maid. The twit didn't notice the expression, however, as she was trying to reaffix a flyaway strand of hair that had worked its way out of the elaborate masterpiece on Jezebel's head. Annoyed that her sneer had been lost on the girl, Jezebel instead scowled at herself in the mirror.

The maid finally got the problem strand back into place, but Jezebel still wasn't satisfied. She kept having the face of that floozy servant girl back at the manor pop into her head. She just couldn't shake the image of her beautiful deep blue eyes and gorgeous supple lips. _Damn her_! She swore to herself. _How dare she intrude even on my thoughts_. She turned her head from side to side in the mirror, inspecting the maid's work on her hair. _At least Devon reported that he hasn't seen her with Gryffon since that day in the market. And now Gryffon is here with me where I can keep a close eye on him_. She should just throw him out, but she couldn't admit even to herself that she had failed in her attempt to have him court her. Besides, he was stuck staying at the manor until he had fulfilled his debt to her. He had nowhere else to go.

His family had apparently lost their house and holdings in a vain attempt to find a healer who could save Gryffon's mother. Gryffon had then appealed to Jezebel's father who had worked out a deal to have him work for Jezebel in exchange for the money. Gryffon's mother had died anyway, and his father had soon followed. Gryffon was the last in line, and was left with nothing. He'd simply have to come around eventually. When he did, she intended to make him pay for making her work so hard for it.

She spent the next hour bullying the maid in an attempt to satisfy herself with her reflection, but it seemed that no matter what she did, she couldn't help but compare it to _that_ girl. Finally, fed up, she threw a tub of powder from the dresser. It slammed into the ground in a tiny explosion of white, and ceramic shards clattered across the floor. She stomped off, her shoes crunching into the pieces, and left the mess for the incompetent maid to clean up.

She stormed down the hallway to the suite that Renee occupied and briefly rapped on the door in a polite gesture before pushing it open. Renee was standing in front of her own mirror, her round face looking quite rosy from effort.

"Oof," she exclaimed as a maid drew the drawstrings of her corset. Jezebel smiled and felt her mood improving as she surveyed the hideous gold dress that Renee had squeezed her not-so-girlish form into. The gold accentuated her pale complexion and made her look washed out and sickly.

"Renee," Jezebel greeted the pudgy woman as she helped herself to an armchair. She sat carefully, so as not to ruin her own maid's handiwork, and watched with amused contempt as Renee's maid laced the rest of the dress and moved on to her hair.

"Jezebel," acknowledged Renee sounding out of breath. "You're looking lovely as always."

Jezebel nodded acceptance of the compliment, but refrained from commenting on Renee's own appearance, stifling a laugh.

A few hours later, the two women stood in a gigantic ballroom listening to endless speeches about the new King. As the ceremony wound down to a close, they joined the procession line to pledge their fealty to him. Renee kept standing on her tiptoes to peek over the people in front of them in an effort to steal a glance of the King. Jezebel held herself still in a more regal fashion, resisting the urge to look herself.

"You know," murmured a voice beside her, the breath lightly tickling her neck as it moved stray hairs across her skin, "we'll be electing a whole new Council soon."

Jezebel started to rudely comment that she was well aware of the customs, but stopped herself mid-breath as she saw who it was standing next to her, obviously on his way back to his table after having already been announced to the King. "My lord," she gasped, curtsying deeply to Lord Carlon, a man who was extremely influential in court. He had almost tripled his holdings with raids into the savage lands to the north, and consequently had tripled his power and prestige in court as well.

His lips formed a small smile and he continued, "I hear that you are interested in one of these positions. What makes you think that you are eligible for one?"

Jezebel ignored the implication that perhaps she was not qualified, knowing better than to upset someone like Lord Carlon. "My father has been very involved in court politics for some time, as you know, my lord. I took it upon myself to listen and to learn. Also, my father fully supports my claim, although he has not formally announced it."

"Does he now." His lips quirked again.

"I think that the rest of the Council would be quite pleasantly surprised to find that I already know what usually takes them years to figure out for themselves. My information network is quite well-established and very reliable." She added this last comment, gambling that the lord would not take offense. Normally the practice of having networks with the purpose of spying on other nobles was accepted, but not spoken of. Her gamble paid off, and she was rewarded with a broader smile.

"You are a bold one, and I agree that you are very well-informed. Be aware, however, that even with the most extensive networks, there is always more than what meets the eye." He arched a brow at her and gave her an appraising look before saying, "I shall look forward to supporting your candidacy once you formally announce it."

With that, he walked off, leaving her dumbfounded in the line of people. She felt frozen in place until Renee's voice brought her back to the present, and she realized that the line had moved up. The people behind her were starting to grumble.

She glared at them all before huffily stepping forward. She tried to force her excited nerves to be still. Inside, she was giddy, trying to remember the last time she had seen Lord Carlon, and wondering what it was that had caught his attention with her. Perhaps what she had taken for an appraising look was actually a look of interest – in more than just her ability to fill a Council seat. She laughed to herself, drawing odd looks from the people around her. She paid them no heed. _Well, if Lord Carlon is interested in me, he certainly is in a position to make it worth me bothering to return it,_ she thought to herself gleefully. _Maybe his wife is getting a little round in the hips after all those babies and she's lost her appeal_. The lord was substantially older than Jezebel, but that was all the better as far as she was concerned. It simply meant that he'd be out of the way sooner. A little subtle flirting and a few choice words, and she'd oust the old wife and become the new Lady Carlon in no time, to enjoy all the benefits and power that the position held. Then, when he finally met his end, she would reap all the rewards.

The line in front of Jezebel and Renee separated, and Jezebel was surprised to see that her musings had lasted all the way to the dais where the King stood accepting the fealty of his subjects. Renee made a low noise of appreciation as the crowd parted and the King came into view. Jezebel lost her train of thought for a moment as she gazed at him. He was the most perfect specimen of a man that she had ever laid eyes upon. Dark brown hair flipped out from underneath the jeweled crown, and his intense deep eyes brushed over her as he nodded acceptance of their pledges of fealty. Within his strong jaw, his mouth was set in a perfect smile that he held for all his subjects. The only mar to his features was a long scar that extended across his left cheek. In Jezebel's opinion, it only served to make him look that much more strapping. She could almost imagine the fateful scene as he bravely fought off his enemies and received the wound while holding back scores of men. Jezebel felt a small shiver run down her spine as she rose out of the bow and met his eyes briefly. Their dark depths held her for a split second before he looked away. Jezebel felt herself awed by their new monarch as she made her way off the dais.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Renee asked, coming up next to her along the line of buffet tables that had been set up for the occasion.

"Mmm," was Jezebel's only answer as she absently watched Renee pile a plate high with pastries. Jezebel's revulsion grew as Renee stuffed one into her mouth, and licked the frosting off her fingers. Jezebel chose a plate of fresh fruits and then moved into a group of people. She weaved through the crowd to find someone worthy of speaking with, leaving Renee behind to stuff herself.

She chatted with a few higher nobles before spotting Gryffon in the corner with a group of men. Devon had reported that he hadn't been seen with the strumpet, and no one had mentioned the incident, so she decided to give him one more chance. She made her way over to them and overheard a conversation about hunting. She put on her most dazzling smile as she swept in front of him, cutting him off mid-sentence as she came between him and the group. "Gryffon, dear, won't you come dance with me?"

Gryffon gave her a stern look and answered shortly, "I don't dance," before stepping to the side to resume his conversation.

Jezebel clenched her teeth and turned her attention to a man standing next to Gryffon. He was nothing special to look at, but not a total loss either. She batted her eyes at him flirtatiously and asked, "Would you do me the honor since _other_ people obviously have no class?"

The man was quick to respond which pleased Jezebel, but she felt like she had been slapped in the face when he had the gall to ask for Gryffon's permission. _A_ _s if Gryffon is in charge of me, ha!_ Gryffon barely even looked up and didn't even have the couth to be jealous. Jezebel did her best to flirt outrageously with the man she was with whose name she didn't catch, but Gryffon hardly gave them a second glance. Soon Jezebel grew tired of him and excused herself, feigning fatigue. She needed someone to vent to.

*

Jonathan's eyes scanned the crowded room, searching for Jezebel. Soon he spotted her, looking severe in a blood red dress. She was amongst a group of older women which included the wives of some of the Council members. He made his way over to her slowly, stopping to chat with people on the way to seemingly end up behind her by sheer coincidence. She was in the middle of bragging to them about some supposed merger between her lace shop and another store. Jonathan knew this to be a lie, and had a feeling that the ladies knew as well, if their bored and slightly affronted expressions were anything to judge by.

He stepped in closer and waited for her to take a breath and pause in her boasting. "And when will you be announcing your candidacy now that you have sufficient support?" he asked her when she finally stopped talking for a moment. He felt a tinge of satisfaction as she jerked around towards him; the motion betraying that he had succeeded in his attempt to surprise her.

"Ah, Jonathan," she greeted him, the venom almost dripping from her lips.

Jonathan noticed the distinct lack of title. She turned to the ladies she was with and held out a hand indicating him, "Ladies, this is Jonathan. He's been helping me to decorate my new sitting room. Aren't you, my dear?" She turned to him and gave him a sweet smile with laughter in her eyes. She obviously thought to embarrass him by implying that he was a decorating consultant and thereby a lower noble.

Jonathan let none of his inner anger show. He simply smiled back and took each of the ladies hands in turn as Jezebel introduced them. "Indeed, it's a pleasure to meet you all. Do you mind if I steal away Lady Jezebel for just one moment? I noticed a piece by the door that would look simply superb in her new sitting room, but I'm not sure if there's the budget for it."

Jezebel was not quite as quick to cover her anger as he had been. Her cheeks flushed brighter red than the blush that was applied to them. She excused herself through clenched teeth, and stalked off ahead of him, refusing to let him lead her. He gave a little shrug to the confused looks of the ladies and followed in her wake. "And just _what_ do you think you're doing?" she reared on him.

"Why holding up our end of the bargain, of course," he answered easily. "You wanted a Council seat, did you not? And what have you been doing on your end?"

She stopped in her tracks for a moment, and Jonathan realized that perhaps she had thought that the support from Lord Carlon came out of some real interest in her personally. He smiled, watching her squirm from this revelation. "I have a list of names in the room for you. You may stop by at eleven this evening to get them."

Jonathan was disappointed that he wasn't able to have gone farther with that particular line of insults. He was also somewhat annoyed at her deciding that she could order him around like some kind of lap-dog, but he decided not force the issue - _yet_. Master would be pleased to be given names, and Master being happy made Jonathan happy.

"Is Lord Carlon part of the Order?" Jezebel had the insubordination to ask.

Jonathan grabbed her wrist roughly, carefully shielding the action with his body, and then shoved her towards the wall with a smile carefully fixed upon his face. He leaned in close to her and hissed, "I don't know what you're talking about, _my dear_ , but it would do you well to remember that spreading lies could cost you more than you care to pay. It's not for you to know, and you will remember who is in charge. Don't forget that I too am influential with powerful people. One slip-up from you could be quite hazardous to your health."

He released his grip on her. She rubbed her wrist with her other hand, staring at him with haughty disbelief. He gave her a stiff bow before turning his back on her. _The stupid woman obviously thinks she should be privy to knowledge that is beyond her. I wonder if it is wise of Master to let her continue in this manner. Surely soon he too will realize the snake she really is, and will do what's appropriate._

The King had accepted the entire procession of subjects and was exiting the room, signaling the start of the celebratory ball. Jonathan was now able to leave, as the doors would be unbarred upon His Excellency's departure. He filed out with some of the older nobility who had had their share of balls and those who needed to start long journeys home.

He crept through the palace halls to a secluded room in back. There, he whispered a word of power to the tapestry hanging on the wall, and the woven picture rippled like water before re-solidifying into a very real door. He quickly opened it and ducked inside. The door shimmered behind him, becoming a solid stone wall on the other side of the tapestry once more. He took the torch that was hanging on the wall in front of him and lit it with a wave of his hand. The torch burst into flame and illuminated the long, dreary passageway ending in darkness where the torchlight couldn't reach.

He slunk through the passage, curiously glancing at the paintings that lined the stone walls. Many of them looked to be picture histories, but they were too cryptic for Jonathan's limited knowledge of art to make any sense of. He made several turns, following the map that had been ingrained in his memory. The hallways were far too similar and numerous to ever transverse without knowing the way, and Jonathan felt privileged to hold such information. He finally came upon a wooden door. He raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he touched it.

"Enter," invited Master from a chair across the room.

The small chamber was lit with candles whose light danced across the black mask covering Master's face. Jonathan moved forward and knelt before him, waiting until Master gestured for him to stand. Jonathan did so and reported, "He gave her the support, Master. She claims to have a list of names for me to pick up tonight at eleven."

"You let her choose the time?" There was a hint of laughter underneath the words.

"She is not very rational when it comes to trying to get her to do something any way but her own, Master. I figured it was better to get the list than to bother with details."

Master chuckled. "Yes, yes she does seem to be like that."

Jonathan took a seat across from the man, sitting on the very edge of the chair and asked, "Is it wise to let her gain too much power, Master? She is, after all, a potential liability."

Master spoke with a sterner tone, answering, "I have my reasons, Jonathan. Just as it is not her place to question your orders, neither is it yours to question mine."

Jonathan bowed his head humbly and responded respectfully, "Of course, Master, I didn't mean to question you, only to make sure that you realized her abilities. She is quite adept at making people think she is something that she is not. She lies even when there is nothing wrong with the truth."

"I appreciate your concern, but my sources are far greater than just you, and I am well aware of her instability." They sat in silence for a moment before Master chose to speak again. "I have noticed a flux in the power recently," he commented, "have any of the ones you've cataloged shown evidence of having caused this?"

"Possibly, Master, although it is hard to tell. I doubt that any of them would have been able to cause a flux in the degree that it would take for you to notice, but it is possible."

"Hmm." Master showed no other inclination to explain, but rather sat drumming his fingers on the table, so Jonathan showed himself out.
CHAPTER 11

Layna was busy scrubbing away at a particularly stubborn stain when she heard the front door open. The sound of Jezebel's voice filled the previously peaceful air. "You could have at least had the decency to dance with me."

She was presumably complaining to Gryffon since he answered, "I didn't want to dance with you. Besides which, as I said, I don't dance."

"You are such an insufferable pig!" she shot at him.

Jezebel began to rant incessantly about how inconsiderate and heartless he was. As they came towards Layna, she tried to blend in with the ornaments along the walls so as not to draw attention to herself. She discretely snuck Gryffon a pitying look, but he just shrugged, rolling his eyes at Jezebel's stream of abuse as she stomped down the hall in front of him. Jezebel turned into the library and slammed the door behind her, leaving a sudden silence in the hall.

"Well," Layna said to break the silence, "sounds like you two had a blast."

"I did," Gryffon responded cheerfully. "I thought it was actually quite fun. I got some tips on a great new hunting ground from Lord Rubin and got to spend some luxury time at the palace. There's just no pleasing some people." He grinned at her, jerking his head in the direction of the library. "And you?" he asked, joking, "Did you miss me?"

"I could hardly contain myself," she answered gamely, playing into the teasing.

Just then, Jezebel opened the library door and said calmly, "Gryffon, dear, would you like to join me for dinner in the library?"

Gryffon exchanged a puzzled look with Layna before answering, "No, thank you."

Jezebel followed his gaze, and her eyes narrowed as she noticed Layna for the first time. She didn't comment, but slammed the door shut again behind her. They could hear her muttering to herself on the other side.

"What was that?" asked Layna.

Gryffon simply shrugged again. "She's an odd one."

Layna waved him further down the hall and moved closer so she could whisper in his ear. Her cheek brushed against his and it sent a shiver down her back. "I have something to tell you," she murmured, "but we need privacy. Think you can spare a moment later and visit in my room?" She glanced down the hall towards the library door. "Discretely?"

Gryffon whispered back, his breath hot against her neck, "I can make time for you. I'll be there."

Layna stepped back and nodded to him, then hurried along down the hall, hoping that he didn't see the flush that was threatening to extend all the way down to her toes. She sped through the rest of her chores, relieved that she would finally be able to tell someone her terrible secret. She had almost told Katrina, but she was so wrapped up in her own happiness that Layna hated to burden her with it.

She still couldn't quite believe it herself and had been pinching herself periodically ever since to make sure it hadn't been a dream. She was desperate for Gryffon's advice, and fervently hoped that he wouldn't be angry with her, or worse yet, turn her in. It all seemed so surreal. It was one thing for Gryffon to do magic – he was a noble – but quite another to imagine that she had real talent. She still couldn't quite grasp the real meaning of it. She had debated the intelligence of telling anyone, but had to get it off her chest. _And I know it's stupid, but I'm intrigued by the possibility of him training me! Not that I'd ever be able to do it in front of anyone else. It would just be our little secret, and a reason to see one another again._ The thought gave her a pleasant tingle.

She made it through her chores in record time and sprinted back to her room to clean up. Just as she pulled a fresh tunic over her head, a soft knock sounded at the door. She ran her hands through her hair quickly before calling for Gryffon to come in. He opened the door and slipped inside, greeting her with his usual smile.

"So, what is it you have to tell me?" he asked, his tone hinting at impatience. "It's been driving me mad all day. I don't think that it was very nice of you to imply you had something interesting to tell me without then telling me what it was," he accused, still wearing the smile.

"Sorry. I just wanted to wait until we were alone and could talk about it." She drew a deep breath to steady her nerves. She had been unable to think of any better way to break the news, so she decided to simply spit it out, plain and simple. "I have talent. And I haven't told the priests."

He stared at her unspeaking for so long she began to wonder if he was going to drag her to the temple after all. She bit her lip in an effort to fight back the tears that threatened to start pouring out. _Oh no! He isn't going to help me! He's going to turn me in to the priests – and then I'll be in real trouble for not having gone myself. I wonder if they'll still kill me if someone else made me go? Maybe I can convince him to let me turn myself in._

"I suspected you might."

Layna was ready to unleash the torrent of tears and beg him to not let them kill her, but his unexpected response stopped her short. She stumbled over her words. "W-what do you mean?"

"I couldn't be sure; talent is only really evident after it's been discovered by the user. But I thought I detected it in you. And very strongly too." His eyes unfocused for a moment. "You have a lot of potential. How did you find out?"

Layna looked down guiltily, "I was really cold the other morning, and you know how you always heat up rocks for me? Well, I was lamenting the fact that you weren't there to do it for me...and I just sort-of tried it myself. The water in my wash bowl had frozen so I tried reaching for the 'river' you explained to heat it." She hurriedly added, "I didn't think there was any chance that it would actually work! But it did. Even burned my hand," she held it out for him so he could see the rapidly healing scar on her palm. He took her hand in his and she inhaled sharply.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, concern plainly written on his face.

Layna's face flushed and she looked down, saying vaguely, "It's fine." It was more than fine, she'd missed his touch.

"Does anyone else know?"

"A healer in town. I think her name is Mila. I didn't tell her...she just knew somehow."

"Mila." Gryffon echoed absently, trying to place the name. "Charles – that's the woodsman – has mentioned her. He swears by her herbal remedies. What did she say?"

"That she wouldn't waste any talent on the priests and that I shouldn't go to them. She also said that maybe you would be able to teach me?" She looked up at him with wide eyes, hope creeping back.

"Teaching you wouldn't be the problem," he said slowly, "it would be keeping it a secret that would cause us difficultly. When it's dormant, talent is hard to see unless you are specifically looking for it, but once you start disrupting the power..."

"Someone is bound to notice the ripples," Layna finished for him. She tasted blood in her mouth, and realized that she had bitten straight through her lip. "Do you think I did the right thing not going to the priests?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "Mila's right, enough talent has been wasted on them. We need to figure out what to do."

"We?"

"We," Gryffon repeated firmly. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her an intense look. Layna was touched by the conviction in his voice, and she gave him a small smile.

"What are we going to do? Run off into the wilderness together?" She said it jokingly, though the idea actually did sound appealing.

Gryffon grinned. "Maybe something like that, though hopefully we won't have to resort to something quite so drastic. It certainly would be smarter to get a little farther away from the temples." He paused a minute. "I have something that I need to take care of, but we really need to talk about this and decide what to do." He must have seen the concern on her face. "Try not to worry too much in the meantime. As long as you don't try doing any more magic-" his brow furrowed, "-you haven't, have you?"

"No."

His forehead smoothed. "Good. As long as you don't, you shouldn't attract any attention and we'll have some time to figure this out."

He gave her shoulder a reassuring pat, and left her to her thoughts. She found her thoughts much too confusing to deal with, however, and reached for her book to distract her. The bookmark was only a few pages from the end. She sighed and cracked it open. _Well, at least I'll have a minute or two of distraction._

*

Jezebel called Devon into the library after catching Gryffon consorting with that little snippet of a girl. She raged to him for the better part of the afternoon.

"How dare he?" she sputtered. "How dare he talk to that whore right underneath my nose! After everything I have done for him!" She paced the room, her skirts swinging wildly about as she turned. "And the damned ball. He didn't even dance with me. In front of all those people. And then there was _him_." Jezebel felt the heat within her rising at the thought of her confrontation with Jonathan. _Who does he think he is being so rough with me and acting as though he's more important than me? Me! I can hardly believe it! How can that fat little slug of a man dare to presume such a ridiculous thing? I deserve to be at the palace and have little puppets like him at my beck and call, not have them running around acting like they're worth something_. This thought train reminded her of Lord Carlon and his support, distracting her from her rage. She paused in her pacing. Although she had been embarrassed by failing to realize that the support was a result of the Order's influence, it didn't change the fact that she had the support for a Council seat! She felt her anger dissipating slightly and she dismissed Devon.

He left without a word. She poured herself a glass of wine and saluted herself with it in the mirror to celebrate her imminent Council seat. _Who cares about Gryffon anyway? Soon I will be on the Council and moved into the palace. There, I'll have my pick of the highest nobles, rich and powerful men throwing themselves at my feet. Not good for nothing, wandering_ ...she felt herself spiraling back into her rampage once more and instead focused on Lord Carlon. Although his support alone did not guarantee her a seat, it certainly would give her an excellent chance. _If I can just get Father to see the light. And it just might be possible with Lord Carlon backing me_. Her father would have to see that she had a chance to get the vote with Carlon behind her. Once he realized this, he wouldn't risk her gaining the seat without his support. Backing her also implied he was giving her permission. _And he wouldn't want his little baby girl to gain anything unless he says it's okay._ She sneered mockingly. _Once I have that power_... _I'll make_ him _beg for things_.

The little wench had the misfortune of entering the room just then, obviously under the impression that it was empty. Jezebel jumped at the chance to disabuse her of this notion. "Well, well, well," she sneered. "If it isn't the little Golden Girl, hard at work."

"My lady," she squeaked out in a surprised voice and then stammered, "I was just returning this book I borrowed." She held the book out to Jezebel instead of placing it on the table where she had been about to put it.

Jezebel took the book and, never taking her eyes off the girl, proceeded to rip page after page out of it. The girl stood there dumbfounded, watching her stupidly as she tore the book apart. "You call this taking care of a book?" Jezebel demanded when there wasn't a page left intact. "How dare you mistreat my property like this after I was so nice to let you read it? You probably can't even read. You probably just look at the pictures. No doubt you have absolutely no concept that this book," she shook the offending item, "was worth ten thousand coppers. Do you have ten thousand coppers to repay me with?" The girl stared at her with eyes so wide Jezebel thought that they might pop out of her head, but other than opening and closing her mouth a few times like a fish, she seemed unable to respond. Jezebel shook her head at her in disgust, and snorted. "Typical. You lowborn sluts are all the same. Devon!" She screamed this last word shrilly and waited, watching the growing fear of the girl.

"Yes, my lady?" he queried after looking the situation over with interest upon his arrival.

"Ah Devon," Jezebel purred. "I need you to lock up this miscreant before taking her to the Hall of Justice to be judged. Just look what she did to my book that I so nicely let her borrow. Can you believe that one of my own servants would do that to me after all I do for them?" She held out the book for him to see.

He took it carefully, eyeing the torn pages strewn about on the ground. "But I didn't do it!" the girl burst out in an appeal to Devon, looking completely bewildered. He simply shook his head at her.

"No one is going to listen to you," Jezebel told her in a quiet voice, "and now you'll find out what they do to whores like you. Get her out of my sight, Devon."

Devon took the girl by the arm, ignoring her protests, and led her out of the room. Jezebel smiled to herself, listening to the pleading of the girl as Devon led her away. She took another sip of wine, and the tingling sensation as it slid down her throat added to her general feeling of satisfaction.

*

Devon led Layna down the hallway towards the staircase that led to the lower levels. The lower levels that were off-limits so that no one would know what went on there. Layna didn't want to find out first-hand what did. She implored Devon to let her go, but he remained deaf to her plight, and continued stoically down the stairs into the dank dungeons below. Layna had never before set foot in the lower level, and had never wanted to. This had been where the bar fight man had been led not so long ago. She spared a split-second to wonder what had become of him, but his past hardly seemed relevant when her own future was so uncertain.

As they descended into the bowels of the manor, the walls seemed to close in around her. Terror spread through Layna, and her breathing became shallow and wavering. When they reached the bottom, Layna tripped over the uneven ground and landed heavily on the floor. Gasping in horror at a deep red stain there, she snatched her hand away from it and hastened to right herself. Devon shoved her against a wall and ordered her to put her hands up onto it.

Slowly, with shaking hands, she complied. She closed her eyes tightly as he groped her in the guise of checking for anything that she could use to escape. He brought his body close to hers, and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply. She could feel him pressing against her, and a tear squeezed out. She braced herself for whatever he planned on doing next.

Loud footsteps echoed down the stairs, and Devon turned hastily to see who was intruding. "Don't you touch her," Gryffon growled at him.

Devon took an involuntary step backwards as Gryffon continued his momentum from his descent straight towards the smaller man. "You have no right to be down here," Devon shot back at Gryffon, but he made no forward advance.

"And you have no right locking up innocent girls when we both know what really happened," Gryffon retorted, shaking his finger inches from Devon's face. "We both know Layna didn't do anything and if you so much as lay a finger on her I will rip you apart. You hear me?"

Devon's gaze darted to Layna and back to Gryffon. Layna could almost see the wheels turning, debating whether or not it would be worth it for him to start something with Gryffon. Evidently he decided it would not because he dropped his eyes and said gruffly, "She needs to be locked up until she can be taken to the Court of Common Pleas."

"Fine," Gryffon spat out. "But I'm not leaving you alone with her. I don't trust you any more than that witch upstairs."

Layna stood glued to where she was standing. The wave of relief crashing over her from Gryffon's sudden appearance was so great that she suddenly felt lightheaded. Blackness washed over her view. The last thing she saw as her eyes rolled back into her head was the ceiling rushing away from her.

When she awoke, she was curled into a ball on a bed of straw facing a stone wall. Slowly she turned, and her fear returned in full as she realized she was inside a cell. She scrambled to her feet and let out a strangled cry of despair. Her outburst startled Gryffon, who was sitting on a chair next to the cell. He reached out a hand, and rested it on her shoulder through the bars.

"Shhh," he soothed. "You may have a bit of a bump on your head. You caught me off-guard there when you fainted. I was only able to break your fall a bit rather than catch you as I would have preferred." He gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder once more.

"Thank you," she whispered, hoping that the two simple words could relay to him just how much his coming down here and saving her from Devon had meant to her.

"It's the least I could do," he said his lips tightening around the edges guiltily. "After all, your troubles no doubt are a result of my seeking out your company. Besides, you owe the thanks to your friend Katrina, she saw you being dragged down here and rushed to tell me."

He smiled ruefully at her and she tentatively smiled back. "What's going to happen to me?"

Gryffon's eyes darkened and he growled his distaste at having to relate bad news to her. "Unfortunately, Jezebel is a higher noble, and for some reason the court equates nobility with rightness. Their words carry weight with the Justices. But in this case especially, her word is no better than any other two faced liar's, noble or not. Which is why," he glanced around quickly, "I'm going to break you out of here instead. Devon has made it clear that Jezebel didn't give him any specific date that he had to bring you to the court by, nor a condition you had to be in when he brought you, and he's commented more than once that he intends on," he paused, apparently unsure what wording would be least upsetting to her, "playing with you first."

She sank to the ground of her cell and held her knees, rocking back and forth. "Oh god."

"Don't worry though," he added hurriedly, "I have at least enough influence that I demanded he bring you to court immediately, and depending on the outcome of that will determine my next plan. Going to court actually brings with it a level of safety, having you in their books will document the situation. It will be much harder for them to say you just turned up missing. And while I'm here, at least, Devon won't dare touch you."

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, staring straight ahead. She tried hard not to think about what could happen to her if he did, or what might happen to her in the future even if he didn't.

"Never," was his answer, and they passed the rest of the night in silence.

Layna awoke the next morning, surprised that she had been able to sleep. She saw that Gryffon was bent over the chair at an odd angle and was snoring loudly. Despite her predicament, Layna couldn't help but smile at him, and she reached an arm out to poke him awake. She did not envy him the stiffness he was going to have from sleeping in such an awkward position.

He let out a grunt and jerked awake, immediately reaching a hand up to his neck. "That's gonna hurt," he moaned. He rolled his head from side to side, and grimaced. "What am I talking about, it hurts now. Ow." He gave her a lopsided grin and asked gently, "How'd you sleep?"

"Surprisingly alright," she answered with a shrug, "but now I'm awake and yesterday wasn't just a bad dream." She lapsed into silence for a moment, wallowing in her sorrows, and then whined, "How can she do this to me when I didn't do anything wrong?" Tears threatened to spring to her eyes again and she fought to control them but couldn't. She burst out sobbing and Gryffon tried to comfort her through the bars of the cell.

"Shh," he consoled her, "it'll be okay. Most likely they'll just give you a fine and then she'll have to release you. We'll just have to make sure that you disappear before Devon can get his hands on you again once we're out of the safety of the courthouse."

Layna tried to ease her sobs and finally gave a great big sniffle. She rubbed her nose on the back of her sleeve and sighed heavily.

Devon came down the stairs just then and stopped on the bottom step, looking ready to bolt if Gryffon caused any problems. "Time to go," he stated flatly, watching for Gryffon's reaction. When all he got was a curt nod, Devon came forward and pulled a key off of his belt. He undid the lock to Layna's cell and pulled the creaking door open. "Come on," he said gruffly to Layna. He reached out a hand to grab her arm.

Gryffon intercepted it and said warningly, "She can walk just fine."

Devon grunted noncommittally, but pulled back his hand and moved aside so Layna could come out. She did so hesitantly, trying not to even brush up against the awful man. They made a solemn procession through the halls, and Layna caught sight of Katrina, who gave her a sympathetic smile and mouthed, "Good luck."

It was some consolation to Layna that at least the other servants seemed to know the truth, or even if not, supported her regardless. She still felt as though she might throw up at any second.

They rode in silence to the Hall of Justice where Layna and Gryffon followed Devon to the court official. Devon checked her in, "Layna Nyx; damaged her mistress's, Lady Jezebel's, property and her mistress seeks compensation." The man scribbled this down on a slip of paper, and then briefly turned to Layna to ask how she pleaded.

"Innocent," Gryffon cut in for her. At Layna's nod, the official made another note before waving them towards the next room. Layna was taken into custody by the court's guards, and Devon left her in their hands while he went to let Jezebel know when she would need to make her claim.

Layna sat nervously, feeling her whole body shake uncontrollably despite the warmth of the room. Gryffon put a reassuring arm around her and she melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder, oblivious to its societal inappropriateness. After what seemed like hours, they were told it was time for her to enter the courtroom. Layna was led to a small table before the Justice, while Gryffon was asked to sit on the benches behind.

Jezebel swept into the room carrying a folder full of papers, not bothering to look at Layna or Gryffon. She took her seat at the other table, ignoring the attendant who tried to pull out her chair for her. She tapped the folder on the table twice before setting it neatly down and folding her hands on top of it.

The robust man who served as the Justice of the Peace sat in a throne-like chair on the dais in the front of the room. He peered up at them through his spectacles at Jezebel's appearance, having previously ignored Layna's own entrance.

"Ah, Lady Jezebel," he acknowledged in recognition. "How wonderful to see you. You'll have to pass along my thanks to your father for having me to dinner the other night." Jezebel beamed at him, her arrogant stance seeming to intensify. Layna's heart sank.

The attendant rushed forward to hand the Justice a document. He took a moment to review the contents, and then addressed Jezebel. "Please state your grievance."

Jezebel stood and opened the folder. "I have a list of books that the accused has borrowed from me. Not one of them has been returned in the same condition that she took it in. I let the other incidents slide because she seemed, at the time, to be a good maid and I do have a soft spot for the lesser fortunate than I. However, the latest - which I have in my possession for your viewing - was returned to me with every page ripped out. I take this as a blatant disregard for me and my belongings. This was the last straw which has caused me to have to take more aggressive action towards her. There have been previous incidents as well, including extensive damage to the furniture in my sitting room. These damages ultimately resulted in me needing to replace the whole set. I have just recently done so, and the cost to me personally was quite significant. A large wine stain has appeared on my library carpet as well, which I suspect she is also responsible for – probably from wine stolen from my stock for her personal use as she has seemed rather inebriated on many occasions. Several witnesses will concur that I rarely drink wine myself, and I certainly wouldn't do so in my library." Layna looked around and noticed for the first time that three of Jezebel's friends, including Renee, had taken seats in the back. Jezebel concluded, "I have here a list of damages and their costs, which I respectfully ask the court to make her pay."

The attendant moved forward to take the offered paper up to the Justice who looked this over as well. "This is quite a list," he commented before turning his attention to Layna. "And what is your response?"

Layna's throat had closed up and she was barely able to squeak out, "I didn't do any of that, she replaced the furniture on a whim, I-"

"-And did you borrow these books?" the man interrupted, reading a few of the titles to her.

"Well, yes," she answered truthfully. "But I didn't ruin them!"

The Justice did not respond but instead asked, "And are you responsible for the cleaning of these rooms?"

"Yes," Layna confirmed again. "But nothing was wrong with them."

"So you're saying that this lady - who, let me remind you, is your superior- is a liar?"

Layna knew better than to answer 'yes' to that question and simply hung her head, awaiting the Justice's decision. He thought for a few moments. "Hmm," he said finally. "This is a rather large sum of money you realize, Lady Jezebel. One of her stature cannot possibly be expected to come up with it. Are you interested in keeping her in your household as repayment?"

Jezebel answered at once, "I wish to terminate her employment, but would compromise by being able to make an example of her to the other servants. I would accept a ruling of thirty days in my cell as punishment to deter the other servants from similar behavior if she cannot come up with the sum. I would be taking a substantial loss monetarily, but I think it's worth it to see that justice is served to those who are deserving. And have it be a lesson for her and any others who would so disrespect me."

The man nodded and pounded his gavel. "All right then, Ms. Nyx, I order you to pay the Lady Jezebel a sum of fifteen hundred silver coins or serve thirty days under her supervision." The Justice gestured for them to leave the room.

The moment that the door closed behind them, Jezebel turned to Layna and gave her a nasty smile. "You stupid little slut," she said vindictively, "I hope you enjoy Devon's hospitality." She laughed at her and whirled away from them, basking in her glory.

Devon moved forward and handed a paper to Gryffon who had come up behind Layna to support her, and then followed his mistress out. Gryffon unfolded the note and read it quickly. "Apparently you're not the only one who's overstayed their welcome. Jezebel is requesting that I remove myself from her household at once and has asked the court to confiscate my belongings to repay what I owe her."

"You owe her money?"

"Why else did you suppose I was still there? It didn't take long to figure out the type of person she was. But by then I had agreed to repay her by acting as her liaison for the manor's trading. Along the way she convinced herself that I was courting her, and that's the story that she spread around. I eventually just got sick of correcting people."

The ride home passed in a blur, though at least one of the court's guards accompanied them instead of Devon, giving Layna some respite from thinking about him. Gryffon kept up a stream of optimistic comments, but they fell on deaf ears as Layna continued to contemplate her bleak future. She found that Gryffon had nowhere else to go either, as he filled her in on the events leading up to his becoming Jezebel's houseguest. Unless they really did just run off into the wilderness, their options were very limited. And that was assuming that she survived her thirty days at all, which seemed like a lot to assume. Maybe Gryffon really would be able to break her out. She didn't see how though. And if and when he did? She could return home, but disliked the idea. Especially as it would put her parents in danger. If her talent was ever discovered, no doubt her parents would be punished along with her if she was living with them. She had no desire to bring trouble to their door.

They reached the manor just then, and Layna noticed a commotion at the gates. Her mood dropped even lower as she realized what it was. Devon dropped a bag of what she assumed were Gryffon's belongings outside the gate in the dirty snow and gave him a smirking look before heading towards them to escort her back to the cell.

Then suddenly the world around her exploded. Smoke billowed up from nothing and enveloped the entire front yard. Layna heard a loud smack behind her followed closely by a grunt and a thud of something heavy hitting the ground. Layna put her hands over her head and ducked, peeking out around her arms to try to see what was happening. She thought she caught a flash of someone who looked very familiar racing around the manor to the right. Devon followed closely on their heels.

Someone grabbed her roughly by the arm and her heart froze in her chest until she heard Gryffon's urgent whisper, "Come on, let's go."

She followed him obediently around the opposite side of the manor that Devon had just rushed around, and he ushered her inside a waiting carriage. He threw two suitcases in after her and then slammed the door. Layna heard the slap of a hand again the horse and it neighed its indignation. Its footfalls echoed off the cobblestones, slowly at first and then faster and faster.

"Are you alright deary?" asked a voice. As Layna's eyes adjusted to the dim light in the carriage, she could barely make out a figure sitting opposite her. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"I think so," she answered, taking a moment to take stock of her situation. Physically she was alright...

"Excellent. I would imagine you might have quite a few questions at the moment." Layna finally placed the voice. "Mila?"

The woman chuckled. "Don't sound so surprised child, I'm not too old for a good escape yet!"

"How –" Layna started, but wasn't even sure how to form the questions.

"It turns out your benefactor there is quite resourceful, and it didn't hurt that you have no few friends within the manor. Your Gryffon contacted me as soon as he realized what was going on and we made plans to extract you. Luckily, your friend Katrina is a very remarkable young lady, and it was her who came up with the distraction idea for Devon. I could easily create the smoke which made seeing difficult while Gryffon knocked out the guard, then we concocted an illusion to make Katrina momentarily look like you – long enough to get Devon to follow her around the corner where she had already planted tracks for him to follow. When he came around the corner, all he'd find was one of the maids pointing him in the direction the fleeing girl had supposedly gone. Then it was a simple matter of me picking you up while Gryffon went back to tend to the guard, as if you had eluded him as well, and leaves Katrina looking like she aided in your attempted capture. She did ask that I pass along the sentiment that she would miss you terribly, but promised to visit when it was safe. She also that she packed as many of your things into Gryffon's bags as she could fit without being caught."

"Wow," was all Layna could respond at first, until part of what Mila had said hit home with her. "Wait a minute, you said that Katrina said she'd come visit me? Visit me where? I have nowhere to go."

"But of course you do, my dear. You'll be coming to stay with me. I have lots to teach you."
CHAPTER 12

Jezebel lounged in her new chair in her sitting room and smiled at the lovely way this morning had gone. She was quite pleased with herself that she had thought to add in that bit about the sitting room furniture. The look on the strumpet's face had been priceless. It was a shame that she had to ruin several books for the occasion, but she already had Devon procuring new copies from her father.

Perhaps she'd have to fill her father in on this little scheme. But no, he'd probably tell her that she should have done it differently, that she could have gotten more out of the girl. _As if he could have done it better, hah!_ No, she'd simply have to amuse herself with it. Besides, she did get more out of it than it seemed, the rest just happened to have come from her father's purse. _And that's almost as good_ , she thought happily.

There had been that little incident with Gryffon taking the girl's side and then Devon allowing her to escape, of course, which put a small damper on the day. The news had cost her several expensive vases, thrown in her temper. She had eventually calmed herself in the knowledge that it wasn't over yet, and the stupid little creature had actually made things worse for herself. The whore may not be enjoying being Devon's entertainment just yet, but she had no doubt that she soon would be. And besides, having refused to repay her debt to Jezebel meant that the girl would automatically be returned back to her if she was picked up by the officials. And if Devon found her, no one would have to be the wiser that he had her at all – the girl really had done herself an injustice. Rather than only thirty days at Devon's hand, she had now possibly sentenced herself to a lifetime of his whims – no matter how short he may make that lifetime. And Gryffon – well, she had warned him what would happen if he crossed her, and soon he would find out. She chuckled to herself. Oh no, she wasn't done with the two of them just yet.

She had sent out several letters, including one announcing her candidacy for a Council seat, as well as a blacklist for the whore, so that she would not be able to get work even if she did manage to elude the guardsmen. She would wither away on the streets. Maybe the slut would have to turn to a brothel house and actually become one of the Golden Girls. _No, not the Golden Girls. That's too high class for one of her ilk. She'd have to make do with one of the many street whorehouses, and maybe she'd even get into that Sparkle Dust I've heard is the newest rage and overdose on it. Or, better yet, sell her body into slavery for a supply of it_. Jezebel sighed happily at that satisfying thought.

A knock sounded at the door and Jezebel gave permission for the person to enter. It was Devon, who slipped inside to hand her a letter, announcing that it had just arrived. Jezebel took the note from him and slit open the seal. It was marked with a family crest that she did not recognize.

Inside the note read, "Lady Jezebel, I have recently been informed of your candidacy for a Council seat, and have a proposition for you. I have been working on a project, details of which I will fill you in on if you will accept my invitation for dinner. If you agree to help me with said project, I will add my support to Lord Carlon's for your inclusion in the new Council. If you are interested in hearing more, please accept my invitation to the enclosed address at six o'clock sharp this evening for a further discussion of the matter. I look forward to seeing you there. Sincerely, Lord Farthen."

Jezebel handed the letter back to Devon and told him, "Let the cook know I will be absent for dinner tonight, and make arrangements to have the carriage bring me to that address for six o'clock sharp." Devon nodded and exited without pause; she certainly was keeping him busy lately. Maybe she'd have to arrange a reward for him for all he'd been doing to ensure his continued loyalty. She made a mental note of it and pondered Lord Farthen's invitation.

Lord Farthen was a lower noble, but one still worth mentioning. He had organized a group of traders and now held a monopoly on certain foreign goods through these personal traders of his. Mysteriously, any other merchants who had tried to import the same goods were invariably attacked by bandits. _Bad luck for them_ , thought Jezebel sarcastically. Perhaps his project had something to do with keeping the other traders at bay. But at far as she had heard, no one had tried in some time to interfere with his monopoly, so it seemed unlikely. She would just have to wait until tonight and see. Maybe it would be a good end to such a good day.

She decided to spend the last few hours in her suite trying on dresses. She couldn't remember if Lord Farthen had a wife or not, but it wouldn't hurt to look her best either way, men were so easily swayed by women's looks.

Shortly after six o'clock, she strolled into the sitting room of Lord Farthen. She waited while the young girl who had shown her in went to fetch her master. The room was decorated garishly with a hunting theme. Massive heads were mounted all over the room and weapons were hooked to the walls. _I'd say, no wife_ , thought Jezebel, and as Lord Farthen entered the room behind the girl, he pinched her round bottom, and she added mentally, _and that's probably why_. She tried not to let her distaste show on her face as she was presented.

"It's a pleasure to formally meet you, Lord Farthen," she said as he took her hand and kissed it with obvious flirtation. "Though we've never spoken, I've heard quite a bit about you."

"The pleasure is mine," he answered and got straight to business. "I hope now that we have met, that we'll have a long future of association between us." He dismissed the girl with a nod and a slap on her rump. Then he turned his full attention to Jezebel. "How much talent do you have?" he asked her bluntly.

Jezebel stared at him, taken aback by this direct question. She took a moment to weigh the pros and cons of telling him this information, and decided on a vague half-truth. "I have a fair amount with some additional training. Why?"

He nodded, apparently pleased, and continued. "That is what I had heard about you as well. Your talent is why you will be a perfect addition to the project. What I'm about to tell you is to be kept in the strictest confidence whether you decide to join us or not, understood?" She nodded her consent and made a motion for him to get on with it. "Well," he said with growing excitement, "through an excavation of one of the ruins, we have come into possession of an ancient text."

"We?"

He ignored her question. "We've spent months studying it, and have finally managed to translate a good portion." He paused for dramatic effect. Jezebel stared at him, expressionless. He looked disappointed in her lack of enthusiasm and she congratulated herself on her patience, payback for his ignoring her. "We've discovered one of the spell books that somehow managed to survive the book burnings. And now that we have translated it, we have access to several spells that were previously thought to have been lost forever."

Jezebel couldn't contain her excitement at this bit of information, though she tried. "What kind of spells?"

Lord Farthen smiled now that he had caught her attention, showing pointed canines. "The first few were trivial," he waved a hand unceremoniously, "but there is one that we have yet to try. It involves the use of the forgotten runes."

"Runes? You mean like bloodrunes?"

"Indeed."

"Blood-magic!" Jezebel exclaimed with feigned outrage. "What makes you think that I would support anything that has to do with a forbidden art?"

Lord Farthen simply smiled at her again, unfazed. "You are not the only one with an informant network, love. And not everything you do is done behind tightly enough closed doors." The last was said in a warning tone, and Jezebel took heed. She wondered how much this man actually could have found out. Perhaps she would have to hold off on that reward for Devon, and instead have a chat with him about his secrecy. Lord Farthen wasn't finished, however, and he went on, "And besides, you want a Council seat, and I can help you get it. We both know that times are changing; we can only benefit from getting a head start on our peers."

Not that she was expecting an honest answer, but she asked the question that burned in her mind anyway. "How exactly will I be doing you a favor by you sharing this information with me?"

She was surprised to get one that seemed sincere. "Why Jezebel, with you on the Council, you can speak out in support of the ancient rituals and perhaps reinstate things. I think we both know that our fine new King will be amiable to this suggestion, and with his Council nudging him towards legalizing the use of blood-magic...I'm sure you can find an angle to properly convince him. And since part of what we want from you in return is the use of your talent to perform a trial of these runes," he paused again, "well, let's just say that you'll be more motivated to want it to be legalized."

Jezebel wasn't sure that she enjoyed the bluntness of this man. Getting involved in something like this could ruin her if it got out before she was able to convince the King to change the law. However, she always had her father to get her out of any trouble she got in, and besides, who would dare do anything to _her_? "I find it hard to believe that I could convince the whole Council to go against established rules," she told him, fishing for information, though she was quite sure of her abilities.

"Oh, I have faith in you," was all he said.

Jezebel caught a hint of something that he wasn't saying. "And if I refuse?" she asked.

"Then this conversation never happened." This time there was an unveiled threat behind words.

"Very well," she said after a pause. "I accept your invitation and look forward to further communications with you on the subject."

Lord Farthen smiled broadly, reminding her of a weasel, and he answered, "Good! I've already given orders that the text would be copied for you and it will be arriving to you shortly." He held out his hands in an apologetic manner. "It's protocol that it go through certain channels to reach you or else I would have entrusted the book to you personally. However, this," he said handing her a bit of parchment, "is the key to reading the text, and this I can give to you directly. I also look forward to our continued acquaintance, and will enjoy hearing all about your successes both in this matter and in the political field."

She found it slightly obnoxious that he had been so sure of her acceptance, but much too intrigued to take it back out of spite. They exchanged a few pleasantries while they ate the food that the servants had brought for them before Jezebel took her leave of him. She was eager to get home to read this new book and begin formulating her plans for it.

When she arrived, Devon was waiting for her in the library, a large wrapped package in his hand. She took it from him greedily, and tore it open. She shooed him out of the room, and then set the book reverently on the table before taking a seat beside it. She ran her hands over the cover, delighting in the soft feel of the leather bindings, and carefully cracked it open. She had a split second of puzzlement as she started reading about horse-breeding, before catching herself and digging the bit of parchment out of the hidden pocket in her dress. The parchment was a single word in the old language, a command of power, and Jezebel read it aloud. The bit of parchment spontaneously combusted, and the words on the page in front of her shimmered and rearranged themselves to a new pattern. "The ancient art of blood-magic," it read, "was first used by..."
CHAPTER 13

Layna sat in front of the fireplace, prodding at the thick concoction that Mila had been adding odd ingredients to all morning. "What exactly is this going to be?"

Mila chuckled at her and answered, "It's a plaster for setting broken bones, specifically for the little boy who will be coming in to have his broken leg set after breaking it underneath a wagon wheel."

"Are you a seer now too?" Layna asked incredulously, causing the woman to laugh again.

"Hardly, child. But I do make it my business to know what's going on."

Layna sighed. Mila was a pleasure to be around, and she had a wealth of knowledge stemming from years of research and experimenting. Despite her old age, she was as witty and sharp as ever, and could still remember every ingredient to any potion or poultice she had to mix up. But she was cryptic. Layna found it difficult to get a straight answer out of the healer. Most of the time she would make Layna guess what ingredients she thought should be added to a potion before telling her what it really was supposed to be. At least Layna was improving her own knowledge, and the guessing game had become slightly less frustrating as she learned what each of the individual ingredients was for.

Layna had been learning a lot about the world in general during her stay with Mila. She had never realized how sheltered she had been in a noble household – even with all the rumors of what really went on there – and before that at her family's isolated farm. Her troubles now seemed minuscule compared to what some of the patients who came through here had to deal with on a daily basis. Many could not afford to pay Mila conventionally for her services, and Mila ended up with all manner of unusual substitutes for her fee. She was happy to accept whatever form of payment they were able to make; even, in one case, a song by a traveling minstrel who had nothing else to offer. Mila had accepted it as though it was the most valuable gift he could have given her, and the healing inside had matched the healing of his body when he left.

Contrary to Layna's former belief, Mila actually did have talent, and she used it without reservation for any that traditional medicine wouldn't help. How Mila had managed to hide the fact that she healed with talent from detection, or learned how to use it in the first place, was one of those secrets she refused to share with Layna. Even without the use of her talent, Mila was able to fix almost any ill, and made it her mission to heal anyone and everyone who needed it.

It was more than could be said for the temple healers. They had healing talent for sure, but were much stingier in their use of it. Like most things, it cost a small fortune to have them use talent to heal you, so again only the nobles could afford it. Layna had seen one of the temple healers performing on a Miracle Day, and it was incredible what they could do. She had seen them cure a man of the final stages of the plague, right before her eyes. His lesions had visibly shrunk to nothing, and his grey pallor had disappeared. By the time he left, he looked as though he had never been afflicted. _If they would just offer that to everyone, imagine the suffering they could end!_ But they didn't. They had free clinics that would use the type of healing Mila did, but they were nowhere near her proficiency, and without a steep fee, talent was never an option no matter how dire the situation.

A knock sounded at the door, and Layna hurried to answer before Mila could lift her stiff body out of her chair. Layna opened it, and was surprised to see the woodsman – Charles - carrying a small boy. The boy's eyes were red and swollen from crying and he was whimpering softly.

"Move aside, young lady," ordered Charles gruffly.

Layna complied, holding the door so he could carefully maneuver the boy in without bumping his leg. He carried the boy to the bed next to Mila's chair and set him down gently, brushing a stray blond hair off his forehead.

"There you are laddy, Mila here'll take real good care of you, don't you worry one little bit."

"That's right," said Mila comfortingly. "You'll be back to frolicking about in no time." She handed him a steaming mug. "Here, drink this." At the boy's hesitation she added, "It's a simple sleeping potion so that you won't feel it as we set your leg." He took it from her and sipped it carefully, with a look that said he was expecting it to be disgusting. His eyes brightened as he tasted the sweet liquid, and he gulped it down. Soon he was sleeping soundly, looking peaceful despite his leg, which seemed to be lying at an odd angle.

"His leg's all puckeroo," Charles informed them needlessly.

Mila pulled back the boy's pant leg, and felt around at the bone. "Hmmm, good good," she mumbled to herself. Suddenly, with an audible snap, she popped the bone back into place. She held out a hand to Layna, who offered her a rag after dipping it in the plaster they had just made up. With expert hands, Mila wrapped the rag around his leg, and held her hand out to Layna again. They repeated this process to create a cast for the boy so that his bone could heal.

When the cast was in place, Mila held her hand above his leg for a few moments, and Layna knew she was beginning the healing process by creating webs with her talent. She wouldn't heal the whole thing, as doing so would require a great deal of strength to actually grow new tissue. It would also result in needless pain to the boy, whose body would have a harder time adjusting to it being healed so quickly. In short order, Mila had finished, and she pulled the covers up tight around the sleeping boy. He snuggled into them, a peaceful smile playing on his sleeping face.

"Don't know how to thank you," the woodsman said brusquely to Mila.

"It's nothing, Charles; you would do the same for me."

"Hmph," he grunted in reply. He then asked, "Do you mind if I let him sleep here a bit? I've gotta be someone's factotum, and then I'll come back to fetch him?"

"That would be fine."

The woodsman nodded his thanks as he stepped out. "He's a little strange, don't you think?" Layna commented to Mila as soon as Charles had left.

The woman looked at her sharply. "You'd best hold your tongue when speaking ill of others. Poor Charles can come off a bit strange, but he is one of the noblest men I've ever met and he has his reasons. His life hasn't all been pleasant. You should be careful to reserve judgment until you understand the reasons behind people's seemingly odd actions. More often than not, first impressions are false impressions." She paused, and her tone took on a lighter note. "Though he does sometimes practice a bit of epeolatry." She winked at Layna, who shook her head and wrinkled her nose, having no more idea what Mila had just called him than she did when talking to the man himself. "I think most of it is an act to keep people from asking questions," Mila added as an afterthought.

"What happened to him?" Layna asked, curious to know the whole story despite her embarrassment.

"It's not my place to tell you," Mila answered with a shrug. "If ever he decides you should know, you will. Until then, just keep in mind that you have no idea what has happened in anyone's life but your own."

Some time later Charles returned for the boy who gave him a joyful hug upon his arrival. "Won't you stay for a while and have some tea with us?" Mila implored the two.

After glancing at the round eyes and pouting lip that the boy gave him, Charles laughed and gave in, "Alright," he consented, "I s'pose we could play the quidnunc a bit, but just for a minute."

They all settled themselves around the fireplace, and the woodsman regaled them with stories from the wilderness and tales he had been told in his travels. After a while, they heard the sound of boots being banged against each other outside the door in an effort to rid them of snow. A moment later Gryffon entered, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Layna had been happy to realize that Gryffon would be staying close by after having been kicked out of Jezebel's manor, and though he had to be careful about his visits so as not to give away her location – _how strange to be a fugitive!_ – he did come by as frequently as he could.

He looked around at their little group, and smiled 'hello' to everyone, going over to shake hands with Charles. He shook snow out of his hair and removed his wet clothing, taking care to hang them where they could drip as the snow melted off them. He grabbed himself a cup of tea and took a seat on the floor, cradling his cup to warm his hands.

"You didn't finish your story!" the little boy accused the woodsman, whose latest tale had been interrupted by Gryffon's entrance.

"Right you are." Charles smiled down at the boy. He took up the narration where he had left off. "So out on the edge of the North Woods I was, lookin' out over the Ferryn Plains. I swear upon my dear old mother's grave, that what I saw was a dragon god." He saw Layna and Gryffon's looks of disbelief and he held up a hand to them, "I ain't bein' no quipster here, it was plain as day. It spread it great ol' wings and took to the sky. Too far off to tell much about it, but no doubt in my mind that it was indeed a dragon. They used to walk among us as dragons, the gods did. There have been other strange occurrences out there as well. Like I was telling ya in the market about the magical beasties returning. Though it may sound like crazy talk, it would be wise to not dismiss it out of hand. This is a strange time we live in, I can feel it in my bones getting' stranger as we speak." He lifted himself up out of the chair and bent down with a grunt to pick up the boy. "Come along David, it's high time we got you home."

After they had said their good-byes and headed out the door, Gryffon turned to Mila. "Do you believe in all these sightings?"

Mila simply shrugged saying, "There are many things in this world that we are unaware of." She wouldn't say any more, no matter how they begged. Finally they gave up, and Layna and Gryffon moved upstairs to chat in Layna's room.

"How'd court go?" Layna asked him as they settled themselves on the pillows she had put in front of her fire. Today had been the hearing where the court decided whether or not Gryffon's debt to Jezebel had been paid off.

"Not bad," he answered. "Pretty much as expected. I managed to keep Fly and Axe, but she got the rest of the horses. Luckily, the Justice agreed that I had provided adequate service in repayment for the debt, so other than the horses and a few other minor possessions, I am now completely untied to the devil lady."

"That's very good news."

"For sure. You should have heard the lies that she spewed out though. It was almost funny. Her entire speech is so riddled with fabrications, it's incredible. According to her, I'm both involved in all sorts of side businesses that are making me all this money that I should be able to give her in interest for her 'kindness'; but then in the same breath, she calls me out as a lazy bum that does nothing all day. Go figure."

Layna shook her head in disbelief. "What a horrible person."

"I did manage to get your note to Katrina though, and she looked well. Obviously no one has been the wiser as to her involvement."

"That's good, thank you for doing that." Layna looked down, feeling shy. It was odd to be sitting in her bedroom talking to him. She picked at her nails uncomfortably, trying to find something else to say.

"Well," he said, getting up from his chair, "I guess I should be getting back."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly, rising from the bed to walk him out. She opened the door and held it open for him, and he brushed against her softly as he passed. He paused and looked back at her, and she waited in anticipation as he leaned closer. His lips brushed briefly across hers for a moment, almost a kiss, as he moved his head close and he whispered sensually in her ear.

"Goodnight."

Layna clicked the door shut behind him, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes in bliss. She pressed her lips together, remembering the sensation of his lips dancing across hers, and sighed.

She missed him already.
CHAPTER 14

Jezebel was all jitters as she sat outside the Council room. Inside, they were discussing the candidates, and voting on the new members. As a candidate herself, she was not allowed to enter the discussion, but she had wanted to be present for when the decision was made.

She had been very busy lately. Between everything else, she had been scheming relentlessly with Devon to do whatever they could to discredit the other Council hopefuls. She also had spent hours poring over the book from Lord Farthen, and was already in the process of applying the knowledge that she had learned. She had confiscated one of the family's country manors for her project, and even now her own little pack of hellhounds roamed their carefully contained paddock there. The book had suggested starting with a small animal, like a squirrel, but she had decided to skip this stepping-stone and proceed straight to dogs. Dogs would be much more useful. Plus, she liked the term 'hellhound' that they were given once transformed into her own creatures. She had rescued the lot of them from a merchant in town who kept them tied out behind his shop all day. _Poor things had nowhere to run, and now they have whole acres to stretch their legs_. _Not to mention a new purpose in life, much more important than guarding that man's store. The purpose of serving me_.

She had been delighted by the volumes of information that the book had contained, and was even more convinced now that she would indeed become all-powerful. Just in this one little book there was more knowledge about magic than all of her teachers combined had been able to teach her. It spelled out what incantations and what tools to use in order to best cause pain as you drew out your runes upon the beasts to bend them to your will. The more pain you caused, the more blood-magic flowed from them into you.

She greatly enjoyed working with the hellhounds. Their runes needed to be retraced regularly to ensure their continued loyalty to her, and it was a pleasure when one showed disobedience and she had to correct it. It was pure enjoyment having that kind of power flowing into her. The book also described other spells that Jezebel was dying to know more about, but frustratingly it only mentioned that they were possible, not how they were done. Many of them involved potential improvements that could be made to your creations, like adding poison in their fangs. _Who would dare cross me with a pack of poisoned hounds at my beck and call? None of my suggestions on the Council would be countered then._ Perhaps she would have to arrange another meeting with that Farthen fellow to try and persuade him to part with more of the valuable documents.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, a servant came to fetch her. The decision was about to be announced, and therefore she could enter the room to hear the results. She slipped inside and looked for her father; his expression would tell her what she needed to know. He gave her a quick smile and a nod hello, and was looking very smug. Since he had switched his stance and decided to back her claim after finding out about her other supporters, his happiness could only mean that she had gained a seat. She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and gave a bright smile to everyone in the room, taking care to make eye contact with any that looked her way. The current Council members were being handed a piece of paper, and the speaker stood to announce the names of those who would be taking their places. Her smile widened as her impression was confirmed when they read her name as one of the members.

"For those of you who were just voted to replace us as Council members," said the speaker, "please remain to get your instructions on how to proceed. Everyone else, thank you all for coming and sharing your input. We shall be sending out invitations to the seating ceremony very shortly." He rapped on the table dismissively and people slowly started filing out. Jezebel sat impatiently, watching as hopefuls left with forlorn looks. Lord Carlon and Lord Farthen both met her eyes to give her waves hello and quick congratulatory smiles.

Her father made his way past her and patted her on the back. "Excellent work Jezebel, we were successful. Now we will have many more opportunities for further advancement."

Jezebel found it hard not to scowl at him for assuming that he was involved in any way, either in her being elected, or that she would let him benefit from her new stature. Now that she had put her foot in the door to the royal treasuries as it was, there was no reason to go back to his measly fortune. She was moving up in the world and had every intention of leaving him in her dust.

Once the room had cleared out, except for the former Council members and the new, the speaker once again addressed them. "First of all, I would like to congratulate each of you for earning these positions. Remember, you are now the advisors to the King and have the utmost responsibility to uphold what is best for King and kingdom. That said, each of you will be given a suite here at the palace where, as my partners and I concur, you end up spending many of your waking hours and many sleepless nights as well. We recommend that you outfit it with everything you may need in case of extended stays. Staffing will be provided by the palace, so unless you have specific servants that you would prefer to bring, you may leave your manor staff in place. If you do have a special request, please talk to Elise, who is the palace overseer." Elise gave them each a bow in turn, and then proceeded to pass out packets to each, which the speaker explained. "These contain the information you will need in your transition to full Council members. In short order we shall hold the official seating ceremony where you will be presented with the keys to these suites. As we have been aware of this change, most of us have already emptied out our suites, so although you can't officially move in until the ceremony, you are able to start sending things over immediately. Just please check with the current occupant before doing so." He gave them all a smile. "Lastly, we recommend you all make an effort to get to know one another if you don't already, as you will be working with each other quite closely and it will be imperative for you to work as a cohesive whole. Again, congratulations, and you will receive your invitations as guests of honor to the seating ceremony presently."

The rest of the former Council rose as one and exited out the back door of the room. Jezebel looked around the room at the other new members. Surprisingly, none of the former Council members had been reelected. Given the generous stipend that they were given for their service and abrupt changeover, she wouldn't doubt it if they hadn't tried overly hard to do so. Therefore, there were six new Councilors including herself, and only one other that she recognized by face. She knew of them all by reputation, of course, having made it her business to know what was going on in an election she was so closely a part of. They were each from separate regions of the country so as to provide a fair representation of the country as a whole. She did not envy the ones who would have to make the long treks back and forth from their home manors to their palace suites, but she supposed that they had known what was to be expected of them. _Besides, who wouldn't give up what they had for a chance to be on the Council?_ She was now one of the six people who were directly below the King, and would soon be privy to the innermost workings of the government. Her elation was threatening to bubble over, and she cheerfully invited the other Council members to her humble home so that they could all get to know one another. Each one in turn accepted the invitation, and soon they found themselves sitting comfortably in Jezebel's library where she entertained them with her ideas for the improvements that needed to be made.

*

"The new Council has been elected, Master, and she is on it," reported Jonathan, kneeling before Master.

"Thank you, Jonathan," the man acknowledged. "Any other news?"

Jonathan hesitated, debating how best to relate his information. "I have found several of the symbols that you asked me to watch for," he explained slowly, "all of which on those I have been tracking."

Master sat up straighter in his chair. "Several?"

"Yes, Master, two higher nobles – one from the country and another from Avonmora. And," he paused again, "as we already knew, Jezebel."

His master sat back slowly, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and holding his hands out in front of him with just his fingertips touching. "Were any of them of notable talent?"

"Jezebel is the most powerful, Master."

"Pity," Master responded. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret. This symbol represents a specific bloodline. A bloodline that could potentially be very important for our god's return. I want you to keep a close eye on all of them, let me know immediately if any show signs of being more powerful than they seem at first glance. Check in with Jezebel as well, about her project. I need to know if there are any high talents filtering in from Treymayne. The King is gearing up for a war, so this information will be doubly important as he takes his new position. Let's have her get Devon more involved, and interrogate any suspicious people rather than just watch them." Jonathan was taken aback by Master's sharing of such sensitive information, and pleased that he had found him worthy of hearing it.

"Of course, Master. And what of her hellhounds?"

"Make sure that she knows we know about them, but leave her to deal with them as she will. However, I want to know where she found the information to produce them."

Jonathan made his way out of the temple where Master had arranged the meeting. He weaved through the throng of people in the marketplace to his carriage. After giving the driver his orders, he sat back to ponder how best to proceed. By the time the carriage jerked to a halt he had come to a decision, and he squeezed out through the carriage door and went up to the house to have his arrival announced.

When he was shown into the library, Jezebel was looking pleased with herself, surrounded by the five other newest Council members. Jonathan had a momentary twinge of annoyance that she would receive him with so many witnesses present, but pushed it aside and instead begged their forgiveness while he borrowed Jezebel for just a moment. He motioned for her to follow him into the sitting room, and out of the range of prying eyes and ears. Despite the look of irritation she gave him, she obliged.

"And what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked when they were out of earshot.

"Your man Devon," Jonathan said, "I understand is quite adept at getting people to open up to him."

Jezebel smiled and let out a short laugh. "Why, yes he is. What kind of information would you like him to obtain?"

Jonathan was pleased to note that she immediately assumed her responsibility to do whatever task he set forth for her. "Of the latest list of suspicious names you have, have Devon choose a few to interview. See what he can find out for us about the talent in Treymayne. And congratulations on winning the Council seat, by the way." He acknowledged her accomplishment with a nod of his head and a conspiratorial smile. She accepted with a smile of her own, ignoring his slightly mocking tone.

"Indeed," she answered. "I will set Devon to the task as soon as my guests leave. Is there anything else, or may I return to my entertaining?" She inquired politely but with a hint of superiority. _She's letting her success go to her head already_ , he thought to himself. _But she'll learn soon enough that while the Councilors are the advisors to the King, the King still has the final say. Their primary function becomes keeping the King informed and really they have relatively small amounts of personal power themselves to actually make decisions_. Not to mention that each of them were someone else's puppet. Which was why people like Lord Carlon were perfectly willing to support people like Jezebel to occupy the seats. Lord Carlon remained free to continue his own projects, which gained him much more than pursuing a Council seat himself would. But to people like Jezebel, the palace was the ultimate position of power, and power and status were what motivated them.

"That is all for now," he answered, refraining from enlightening her on her situation. "I'll be back sooner than usual as this matter is pressing, so please tell Devon that it has precedence."

"Fine," Jezebel said shortly and held out a hand indicating he should depart before her. He did so, but stopped at the door.

"Oh, and Jezebel," she turned back towards him and arched an eyebrow. "Do make sure your little country project doesn't sink you before you've even officially been accepted. Having you get caught with them is not part of the plan." She didn't comment, but her other eyebrow joined its companion, and Jonathan was given a sense of satisfaction at having surprised her once again. He returned to his own home, disquieting thoughts of Jezebel plaguing him.
CHAPTER 15

Layna was cleaning up the dishes from lunch, when suddenly the door to Mila's house burst open and a young girl stumbled inside. The girl collapsed, barely a foot within the door, and Layna rushed to her side, calling out for Mila. The poor thing had hardly a rag on her, and her skin was already red and raw from wind and cold blistering.

Mila came running into the room and immediately got down to business, ordering Layna to lift the girl up onto the bed and to get her out of the wet and shredded clothes. Layna did so without question, ripping at the rags in her haste to comply. She was horrified to see the condition of the body beneath them. There were scars all over it. The white lines traversed her length, and newer red ones, still scabbed over with dried blood, criss-crossed her body.

"What happened to her?" Layna asked Mila in horrified bewilderment.

"I don't know," answered Mila regretfully. "Hopefully she'll be able to tell us when she wakes." Mila paused, a look of real concern on her face. "That is, if the poor little thing's mind hasn't been damaged as well." They wrapped the newer wounds with salves and bandages and re-dressed her in warm dry clothes before leaving her to sleep.

She still had not woken several hours later when Gryffon returned. Mila was starting to get worried as the girl's forehead was beginning to become feverish. They explained to Gryffon what had happened, and he listened with interest, and then went over to check on the girl.

"I recognize her," he exclaimed suddenly. "I've been trying to figure out from where. She's one of the Golden Girls." He paused. "Or at least she was."

Mila gave him a look and answered, "I'm not even going to ask how you know that, but assuming she is, I wonder if any of the other girls would know who did this to her."

"I could go ask," Gryffon offered.

Layna added, "I'll go with you." She wasn't about to let him go there alone.

They saddled up Axe and Fly, and rode deeper into the city to the Golden Girls brothel. As they entered, Layna was happy to note that none of the girls greeted Gryffon by name or seemed to be overly familiar with him. Several who were lounging in the lobby eyed him with interest, however, and then looked her over as if trying to decide what they were here for. A particularly bold one came right up, brushing past Layna and draping herself on Gryffon.

"Here for a good time?" she asked, batting her eyes at him.

Gryffon gently extricated himself from her. "Uh, no. Thank you. We just want to know about one of the girls here."

"You want someone special?" the girl asked putting on a pout as if hurt. "I can be better than whoever it is, and she can even come too," the girl lifted her chin to indicate she meant Layna, and then blew her a kiss.

"I'm sure you can," Gryffon acknowledged politely, "but we really just need to talk to the Madame here. If we could. Please." He seemed to be grasping for words and Layna felt a little claustrophobic as several others girls moved forward to surround them.

Someone clapped, making Layna jump, and the girls scattered back to their couches. A new woman, significantly older than the rest of the girls and garbed elaborately with a mountain of hair piled high on her head and a large mole on her upper lip stood in the curtained doorway to the back.

"I am Madame Blanchet," she introduced herself, moving towards them gracefully. "What can I do for you?" She looked at Layna appraisingly. "Are you interested in joining our ranks?" she asked her.

Layna blushed and shook her head negatively.

"Pity. So to what then, do I owe this pleasure?"

Gryffon cleared his throat and explained, "A girl collapsed at our doorstep this morning and I thought that I recognized her as one of your-"

He was cut off by gasp, and a young brunette with big brown eyes ran forward, ignoring the harsh look from Madame Blanchet. "Is it Carolyn? Is she alright?" the girl demanded.

Gryffon answered truthfully, "We don't know who she is, she's been unconscious since this morning. We're currently in the employ of the healer, Mila, who is caring for her."

"Mila," sighed the girl, "she's alright. Why is Carolyn unconscious?"

Gryffon hesitated, unsure how to break the news to a girl so obviously close to this Carolyn. "We don't really know what happened, but she basically collapsed at our doorstep. She's obviously been mistreated."

The girls had all crowded forward now, and at this, they all started talking at once. "She's been missing forever!" exclaimed one.

Another said, "I bet it was that Farthen fellow, he's always been a little too interested in pain for my liking."

Madame Blanchet clapped her hands once more for silence and was met with an immediate response. "I'll have a meeting with you in the back room," she told Gryffon and Layna. Then she addressed the rest of the girls. "Go about your business as usual, rest assured I will do everything in my power to find out who committed this outrage upon one of our own, and they will come to justice." She swept the curtain aside and ushered Layna and Gryffon in.

Once inside, she sat at a large desk and indicated that they should take the seats in front of it. It struck Layna as amusing to have such an official looking office in a brothel, but she made no comment.

"What Helena said was true," Madame Blanchet started as they settled into the chairs. "Carolyn has been missing for quite some time now. I have had my people checking into the last couple clients she had, but none of them have seen her, nor seem to have had anything to do with her disappearance. I thought that maybe she had run off with one of them. That happens sometimes with the younger ladies," she paused in her narration to explain, "they think that they fall in love with one of the clients, that his amorous talk is serious, and they disappear for a few weeks. They usually end up right back here crying their eyes out over broken hearts. I thought she had a better head on her shoulders though, Carolyn did - does," she corrected herself. Her eyes darkened and she said in a low voice, "I will add whatever resources I can to her hopeful recovery and when she is able to tell us what happened, have no doubt that I will make sure that whoever hurt her will pay for it."

They agreed that Carolyn would stay with Mila until she was healed, and Megan begged leave of Madame Blanchet to go with them to visit with Carolyn. She was granted it.

Megan climbed up behind Layna on Fly, exclaiming in girlish delight at riding a horse. The girl's mouth went a mile a minute on the short ride back to Mila's, talking about everything from Carolyn to the city in general, to how pretty Layna's hair was - even if it was getting all in her face.

Layna suddenly felt Megan let go of her waist as she ran her hands delicately through Layna's hair, twining it around and setting it over her shoulder so that it wasn't blowing in her eyes.

"Hey," she observed, "what a pretty picture you have on your neck. What is it?"

"What?" Layna asked, puzzled. "I don't have anything on my neck."

"Yes you do," Megan corrected her mischievously. As Gryffon reined Axe back so that he was beside them, she pulled Layna's hair away from her neck again to show him, and Layna felt her cold finger pointing just behind her right ear. "See?" she asked Gryffon.

Layna looked to him for confirmation and was confused when he nodded that 'yes', indeed she did have some sort of mark on her neck. "It's too small for me to tell what it is though."

"How odd," was all Layna could think of to say.

Gryffon gave her a look of 'we'll discuss it later'.

Megan continued her barrage of words, hardly slowing even as they dismounted and entered the house. The moment that she saw Carolyn, however, the flow abruptly ceased, and she let out a strangled cry. She ran to the unconscious girl's side. She very carefully took a limp hand in her own and started whispering encouraging words to her, the rest of the world gone from her mind.

Mila yelled out from the kitchen that she was making muffins that were just about done, so she'd be right out. Layna and Gryffon took seats by the fire, and starting talking softly in low voices.

"What does it look like?" Layna asked him.

He glanced over at Megan, but she had her back towards them and was still intent on Carolyn. He leaned closer to Layna and brushed her hair away from her ear, craning his head around to look at the strange mark. She hoped he didn't notice the goose-bumps that his touch caused. "It could almost be taken for a hive or an irritation. It just looks like the skin is raised a bit," he remarked. "But it's very obviously a symbol of some sort. Have you burned yourself with anything maybe?"

Layna made a face. "I don't think so, not on my neck anyway. I would think that I'd remember doing something like that."

"Hmph," shrugged Gryffon. "That is odd."

Mila came bustling out of the kitchen, and Gryffon rose to take the tray full of muffins from her. He set it on the table by the bed. "How's she doing?" Layna asked her quietly.

Mila looked over at the two girls and smiled. "I was a little worried about her because I was having trouble staving off the fever, almost as if the poor child's body didn't care to fight it. She was up and flailing about a couple times, mumbling something about 'not the unicorn' or some nonsensical babble. But there's suddenly much more positive energy coming from her. I think you two did a good thing bringing this one back with you. I have the feeling that now she'll be all right."

She handed each of them a muffin, which they took with thanks, and Layna took a small bite of hers so as not to burn her tongue. "How did your business this morning go?" Mila turned to Gryffon to ask. Mila had taught him how to weave healing charms into stones to then be embedded into swords and other weapons. It was both a way to earn some income, as well as providing a legitimate reason for their being so much power in Mila's house and his frequent visits as he was running part of it through her. She had many stones for her official healing, the kind that the authorities knew about, and their presence wouldn't be questioned. Stones radiated power as well as people, so it would be difficult for anyone to distinguish which was which.

He shook his head side to side in a gesture of 'so-so' and answered, "It went pretty well. What worries me is how many people suddenly are interested in them. There's fear running through the people and I'm not sure why. Several of them made comments about the forest being a more dangerous place recently, but none would elaborate."

"Charles couldn't have been serious about their being bloodbeasts in the forest could he? Everyone knows that they were eradicated when the Dark King fell, and the knowledge to create them was destroyed in the fires, don't they?" Layna asked almost pleadingly.

"They could only burn the ones they knew about," commented Gryffon noncommittally. "I suppose there might be someone who knows about them and would use them."

"What kind of person would bring back a creature or creatures that went down in history as being destructive and bringers of death? Not to mention using a lost art of blood-magic to create them?"

"What kind of person would completely make up a story about an innocent girl to get her in trouble, and then try to throw her into a cell with no one but Devon as company?" Mila interposed.

"You think that Jezebel has something to do with this?" Layna asked incredulously.

Mila chuckled. "Not necessarily, child. I don't think that woman is nearly as smart as she thinks she is. I'm simply pointing out that there are a lot of people who don't believe in right and wrong as we do. To them, 'right' is what gains them the most and 'wrong' is anything that doesn't. Your Jezebel is like that. You were someone who made her feel insecure, so she got rid of you to make herself feel better. In her own little warped mind, that makes it right because she feels better, with no regard as to what she's doing to others."

A moan sounded from the bed and Megan exclaimed, "Carolyn? Carolyn, sweetie, wake up."

The girl on the bed moaned softly again, and then blinked open her eyes, her dry lips cracking into a smile when she saw Megan. "Megan," she whispered. "It is you, I thought I was dreaming."

"Shh, shh," soothed Megan. "It's not a dream. I'm here, and you're going to be all right now." Relief seemed to wash over Carolyn and she broke down crying, her sobs wracking her broken body. Megan took her in her arms gently and rocked her back and forth as the tears flowed. Mila motioned to Layna and Gryffon that they should leave the girls alone, and they quietly retreated upstairs.

The next morning when they went down to check on them, Carolyn was looking much better. The color was back in her cheeks, and a smile was permanently affixed to her face as she gazed at Megan. Megan was hand-feeding her bits of bacon, while Mila sat watching them contentedly. She let them enjoy one another's company a while longer before regretfully breaking in, saying, "I'm sorry to break up the party, girls, but I have to change these bandages." Megan suddenly looked concerned and possessive of Carolyn, and looked as though she was going to stop Mila.

"It's alright," Carolyn told her. "She's trying to help." Megan reluctantly moved away from the bed so that Mila could reach Carolyn more easily. Mila proceeded to undo the bandages that she and Layna had applied last night. Layna grabbed more salve and fresh bandages and stood by, waiting for Mila to indicate that she needed them.

As the bandages came off, Megan gasped and demanded, "Who did this to you? I'll, I'll kill them with my bare hands!"

Carolyn reached out a hand to her, looking forlorn, and Megan took it, forcing herself to calm down with obvious effort. "I don't know who he was," whispered Carolyn, not meeting anyone's eyes. She paused, and no one made a noise, waiting for her to continue. "I remember I was coming home from a house-visit and then...I don't know...suddenly everything was in a haze. I think maybe I was being drugged. I was chained up and there were a bunch of people in black and then, _he_ came and..." she closed her eyes shuddering "He came and did horrible things to me, I must have blacked out or something because I can't remember more and when I woke up I was in a cell for I don't know how long, and then moved to the chamber where I have been since. Tied to the bed, I don't even know how long I've been gone."

She wailed and Megan soothed her. "It's all over now." She petted Carolyn's head affectionately and Carolyn nodded at her, trying to smile.

"It's over," she whispered as if trying to make herself believe it. She rested her head on Megan who had squeezed her way back onto the top of the bed so she could hold Carolyn.

"It's over," repeated Megan firmly.
CHAPTER 16

"My lady," Devon greeted Jezebel as he knelt before her.

Jezebel gazed down at him. "I think perhaps you should start referring to me by my new title; Councilor," she said, rolling the word over her tongue.

She smiled and Devon stood. "As you wish, Councilor. I come bearing interesting news involving your Lord Gryffon."

Jezebel snarled at the name. "Unless it's that he's rotting in the gutters, I don't want to hear anything about him." Devon had not had any luck finding that whore of a maid, and Jezebel's attempts to make Gryffon's life miserable kept falling short.

Devon hesitated before going on, obviously weighing his options. "His current situation is irrelevant," he decided on evasively. Jezebel felt a flash of annoyance as this probably meant that the man was not rotting in any gutters, but she let Devon continue anyway. "Besides which, he soon will find himself being pulled rather rudely out of it." Jezebel gave him an impatient look, and he went on hurriedly. "You see, I've been following him since that day in the market." Jezebel raised her eyebrows at him, warning him that he was in dangerous territory if he wished to bring her back through that again. Once more, he hastily continued, stumbling over his words. "He's lost my tail on several occasions, which is not easy to do, and not something that normally happens to people who don't know they're being tailed, and especially not more than once. So I put more people to the task of checking up on him, and guess what we found out?" Jezebel licked her lips at him and shook her head, sighing impatiently and tapping her fingers against her folded arms. "Apparently, our little friend Gryffon was not completely honest about where he's from. No one from the town he claims to have come from has ever heard of him," he announced triumphantly, gaining confidence as Jezebel's look of irritation turned to one of interest, and she stopped drumming her fingers. "Not only that, but my sources believe that he is actually from Treymayne. They confirm that he has had several secret meetings with others who were followed heading east before we lost track of them, and he has once been spotted at a known drop spot."

"Really," Jezebel said slowly, drawing out the word as the wheels started turning her in head. "Perhaps we should bring him in as one of the latest bunch," she mused, her lips curving into a smile.

"That was my thought as well," confirmed Devon, returning her smile.

"That's why I like you so much, Devon," Jezebel purred, running a finger over his jaw line. "We think so alike."

Jezebel thought she saw a hint of an uncharacteristic blush, and Devon turned his eyes downward a moment, before bringing them back up to meet hers. "With your permission, Councilor, I'll see to it right away. Would you like it to be a private or public affair?"

Jezebel thought about it for a moment. "Why don't you make it private for now. I'd like to be able to have a little chat with him myself before we turn him in to the proper authorities." She laughed. "Not even seated, and already the newest Councilor has brought a spy to justice. Good work, Devon. I look forward to seeing you once this task is completed. Let me know the moment he arrives."

"As you wish," answered Devon, his dark eyes sparkling in their shared laughter, and then he left her to her thoughts. _Well, well, well_ , she thought, _how fun this little reunion will be._ She imagined all the wonderful things she would do to him. _Well, it will be fun for me anyway_. Her lips parted in a sinister smile.

She called a Council meeting later that evening, unable to contain such a wonderful turn of events, and she put together her presentation for the other members. When she had collected all the papers she thought she would need, she stacked them neatly into a folder and carried it out to the waiting carriage.

She glanced at the time as she entered the palace, and noted that she was running late. _A_ _h well, they can wait_. She strolled into the Council chamber and immediately made her way to the speaker's podium. It was a spot that she planned on spending much of her time as the official speaker for the Council.

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pointed looks from a few of the members who made obvious gestures of impatience due to her tardiness. Rather than acknowledge this, she took note of which members needed to be taught a lesson on who was running the show here. She started right in on her speech. "Thank you for coming on such short notice," she began, and then paused a moment to glare at one of the men who made a rude comment about having hurried to get here and then ended up sitting around for half an hour for her to arrive. She did not rebuke the comment, deciding instead to simply continue on with her information. "I have been made aware by my extensive network of informants - details of which does not concern you - that we have had a traitor in our midst. In fact, right under our very noses."

She paused again for dramatic effect, amused when several of the members glanced around as if expecting her to point the finger at one of them. She let them mutter amongst themselves for just a moment before enlightening their pitiful attempts to divine who it could be. "Lord Gryffon, who until recently I so charitably gave house to has been found to be a traitor of this country and, in fact, a spy from Treymayne!" Her mouth twitched into the tiniest of smiles at the outburst of reaction through the Council. Gryffon had been well-liked, though why Jezebel could never figure out.

She caught her thoughts wandering as to why he was so liked when he spent so much time talking to people that weren't worth the effort, and she pulled them back to the meeting. The cacophony had died down, and they were once again looking to her for direction. _As it should be_ , she thought smugly. "I have already dispatched one of my own guard troops to bring this traitor to justice. It will be my extreme pleasure as my first act of an official Council member to carry out an inquisition into his clandestine behavior." She smiled at them all and continued, "Also, I have reason to believe that he may have a co-conspirator in his spy dealings. One of my own maids, a girl named Layna. It shames me to think that I had traitors under my own roof and therefore played a part, though indirectly, in exacerbating our spy troubles. I suppose that's what I get for being so generous and so trusting. Now that I have discovered this betrayal, as a concerned Council member and a loyal citizen, I would be remiss to ignore the alarmingly real and substantial evidence against them which could result in dire consequences for our country if their actions are not forcibly and immediately ceased."

The Council members broke into a flurry of voices once more, and one member spoke up with a tone that did not properly display his subordination to her. She narrowed her eyes a trifle.

"Lady Jezebel, we are all aware of your current problems with Lord Gryffon and the girl Layna." Jezebel's eyes narrowed further, becoming mere slits, and she inadvertently let out a hissed breath as he continued. "As Council members, we are responsible for the safety and proper maintenance of the country. Not carrying out your personal vendettas."

Jezebel fought hard to control the anger that threatened to boil over at his words, and in her mind she burst him apart with fire. _Who has been spreading that kind of talk?_ She silently raged, and made a mental note to take a good look at the so-called friends she had been speaking with lately. _I_ _may just need to find a new circle if this is the way my current friends are going to treat me_.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that convincing them was only a formality as she was the one of real importance. "I have here," she responded as sweetly as she could manage through clenched teeth, and patted the bulging folder before her, "reports of Gryffon carrying out secret meetings with known operatives, being present for no apparent reason at a known drop point, and there is also this tiny little detail that no one in the town he claims to have come from has heard of him. Is that enough proof for you?"

The man gave her a grudging nod but impudently insisted, "We will want to see these reports for ourselves and have time to have our own people look into it before we could possibly decide on the proper action to take. He is a noble after all."

The rest of the Council members were nodding their heads in agreement, and Jezebel again had to douse her anger. _I really must find a way to work around having the whole Council agree on actions that I should be able to just command at will_. She was glad now that she had had Devon take it into his own hands to bring Gryffon in rather than having left it to the authorities.

"Fine," she told them, trying her best to sound nonchalant. "While you all are talking about taking care of the country, I will put my people to work on actually locating the fugitives and really taking care of it. And if anyone would like to hear my personal accounts of the illicit contact that Layna had as well, I would be happy to tell you. I saw her with my own eyes speaking with him in low voices over pieces of paper that I later noticed to be suspiciously like delicate documents that I had had on my desk while she was cleaning, which would suddenly show up in a different spot than where I left them." She wracked her brain for another piece of seemingly damning evidence that she could use against the girl, but couldn't on the spot think of another so she said, "Well, the list goes on and on, like I said, I trusted them and only now am beginning to put the pieces together to find what was going on right under my own roof."

The Council discussed this revelation for some time while Jezebel took a seat and tuned them out. Their insignificant talk did not concern her. Eventually their dull brains would come around to the realization that she was right. She let her thoughts drift instead to what she would do with Gryffon once Devon found him. It would be wonderful to get that little whore charged as well, but even bringing her in for questioning Jezebel had high hopes that perhaps she'd simply keel over from fright – like they said happened to sheep when they were being chased by wolves. She remembered her face during the short little trial over the book incident. She shifted her weight slightly in her chair to cover the grin that was threatening to spread over her face as she thought of it. She did so hope that he was able to find the girl too. _But Gryffon...oh, Gryffon would be such a treat..._
CHAPTER 17

Layna and Gryffon waved good-bye to Megan and Carolyn as they disappeared into the swarm of ladies that had converged on them the moment they stepped into the Golden Girl's lobby for their happy home-coming.

The two had barely stepped back onto the street, when suddenly a group of men separated themselves from the crowd, intent on her and Gryffon. Layna sent a frightened look towards Gryffon and he pushed her roughly into an alley.

"Run!" he commanded. She shook her head at him, silently begging him not to ask her to leave him. "Go!" He gave her a stern look. She gave in, turning on her heel and fleeing. Tears sprung to her eyes.

Shouts rang out behind her as they came upon Gryffon. "Get him, men!" one of them yelled. "He's the one all right." Layna stopped running and turned, horrified at the scene she saw behind her.

A man was fighting with Gryffon, who held him by the hair and was landing blow after blow on his bloodied face. Though Gryffon had the upper hand, there were too many of them. Layna raised her arm towards him in a futile attempt to stave off the blow she saw coming from behind, but her warning shout was lost amongst the din.

Gryffon fell and was roughly kicked in the side by the man who he had been punching. The man spat out a mouthful of blood onto Gryffon's now-limp form.

Before she could sprint back to his side, they had him slung over a horse. They rode off with him into the crowd, scattering people as they went.

"No, no, no," moaned Layna as she pushed her way through the people who stood around, looking dumbly between her and the wake of the retreating horse. She glared around at them, and cried out, "Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't anybody stop them?!" People simply watched her outburst, or hurried off to avoid being caught in the scuffle.

She raced through the streets, making her way to Mila's house. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she sprinted, the cool air biting at her lungs. She came up short as she rounded a corner and saw that there were several men standing outside the house she shared with Mila.

She whipped back around the side of the building and plastered herself against it, breathing hard. Quietly she made her way around the back, and carefully climbed up the side of the house. She cracked open a window after peeking inside.

"All's clear up here," said a voice at the top of the stairs, and heavy steps descended. Layna held her breath until the boots thudded onto the stone floor at the bottom, and then she heaved herself through the window. She tiptoed to the doorway so she could hear what was being said downstairs.

"Where is she?" demanded another voice, and Layna shuddered as she recognized it as Devon's.

Mila's calm voice answered sweetly. "Why, I don't believe I know who you're talking about." Layna heard a loud thwack of flesh against flesh and a faint grunt.

"Oh I think you do know, Mila," said Devon. "And I think you're going to tell me because you know what will happen if you don't."

Layna heard Mila spit at the man and inwardly cringed for her.

Devon paused, obviously angered by the insult as he growled, "You shouldn't have done that."

Layna heard a dull thud, a sharp intake of breath, and then a moan as something heavy hit the floor.

Devon barked an order to the rest of the men, "Burn it. Burn it to the ground."

Footsteps banged into motion and Layna heard furniture being overturned and liquid splashing on the ground before the front door slammed shut. Layna listened carefully for any sounds that anyone was still inside, but heard only the faint crackling of a fire.

She carefully made her way to the stairs and peered down them, scanning the room for the men. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned farther out and caught sight of a foot lying sideways on the ground.

As she bounded down the stairs towards Mila's sprawled body, she broke into tears. The woman lay on her back, a puddle of blood slowly seeping out from a knife wound in her chest. Mila gasped for breath and smiled weakly at Layna.

"Well," she wheezed, pausing as a fit of coughing overtook her. A dribble of blood started at the corner of her mouth. "That was not a very polite visit." Layna held her hand over her mouth, blinking away tears. She reached her other hand towards Mila in an effort to do something, preparing to reach for the power despite her lack of training.

Mila saw her pain, and even in her own agony tried to soothe her. "Hush, child, it simply was my time. Please don't bother trying to heal me, unfortunately the little snake has good aim. You can't do anything. Not yet, anyway." She smiled, a bright red stream flowing down her cheek. "Don't worry about me, I'm off to a better place..." Her voice faded out, and her head fell limply to the side as the life left her.

Layna sank to her knees in anguish beside her, oblivious to the fire which had started raging around her. She let out a long wail, weeping for the loss of a friend and an innocent person. _It's all my fault, she never would have been in danger if it hadn't have been for me. And Gryffon..._ She rocked back and forth, her hands over her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Flames started to lick at her dress and her sleeve caught fire, painfully jolting her back to reality.

She stood unsteadily and took hold of Mila's arms gently, trying to drag her outside, out of the fire, but she could not. Even if she could get her outside somehow, what would she do with her?

Layna stood amongst the roaring flames in indecision, not wanting Mila to bear the injustice of having the burning house crumble around her. The table caught on fire as flames licked the oil that had been poured there, and Layna was reminded of a funeral pyre. She gathered her wits about her and gave Mila a parting kiss on the cheek before struggling to lift her body from the floor to the burning tabletop.

Once Mila's body was up on the table, Layna carefully arranged it, folding her arms on her chest. Taking a deep breath, Layna opened herself to the power. They had not had time to get very far in training her talent, but she knew enough that she could manipulate the fire. She very carefully imagined dipping her fingertips into the stream of power, and siphoned off a tiny amount. She used this to focus the flames on the table to incinerate Mila's body in a proper cremation. Tears flowed freely as she watched her friend and mentor slowly burn until all that was left was a pile of ashes on the table. Layna gathered these up in a jar that had so far escaped damage, and vowed to spread them somewhere that Mila would have liked.

Her panicked mind took over then, and she bolted upstairs, banging open drawers to hastily put together what few possessions she had. She flung open the window she had come in through, and glanced outside to make sure no one was watching. Once it was clear, she threw the bags down and then climbed down herself. She raced to the stables and thanked the Three that Axe and Fly were still there. Carolyn and Megan had wanted to walk this morning. She readied the horses in record time, putting their bags on Axe before hopping up onto Fly herself, and leading both out the back.

She paused just outside the gate and stood there for a long moment, watching as the flames engulfed the house that Layna had begun to think of as her home. _Poor Mila_. Layna's vision blurred as fresh tears welled up and her throat closed. She choked back the whimper that threatened to escape, and clung tightly to the jar of ashes. Smoke was pouring out of the windows, and the sounds of shattering glass filled the air. Thunderous crashes sounded as the roof rafters starting giving way. A black cloud of smoke rose to the cloudy sky above, a dark mar on the white horizon.

Layna watched in agony as the flames engulfed the house, and then jumped as suddenly a bright flash surprised her, causing her to step back involuntarily. A wisp of light came through with the smoke, rising slowly towards the heavens. Layna watched the light ascend and felt a calm spread over her, allowing her paralyzed mind to slowly creak back into motion. She realized with a panic that the streets were beginning to fill with shouting people as news of the fire spread. Layna took a step, and hesitated, indecision halting her once more. A voice seemed to whisper in the wind, _Go_ , and Layna burst into motion.

She didn't know what else to do, so she led Fly towards the outskirts of the city, slowing to go through the side gates. She held her breath, praying for the gate guard not to stop her. He simply nodded at her crossing, however, and she nodded back tensely. She led the horses slowly for a good distance, forcing the appearance of calm, before allowing her terror to overtake her, and she gave them the reins.

They galloped off into the wilderness as Layna cried hysterically, dropping the reins altogether and allowing Fly to take her where he pleased. She was lost in a flurry of wild thoughts as panic totally overcame reason, the cold wind biting at her neck as it whipped her hair wildly around her in Fly's swift flight.

In a short while, the horses slowed to a trot, and then a walk. Fly lowered his head as he sniffed around on the ground, pawing through the snow to try and find some food to forage. Axe had followed them as well, being battle trained as he was, and Layna sighed in relief at that small piece of good fortune.

Her breathing slowly became more even, and she forced her mind to pull herself together and think rationally. She had just let the horses go where they pleased, and now she was out in the middle of the woods on her own. The sun was getting lower and the temperature, though heading towards spring, was still dangerously cold at night. Layna prodded her thoughts in the direction of making a shelter and a fire and nothing else.

She hopped off Fly and tethered him loosely where he had been grazing, and then went to find wood. Luckily, the snow in the forest was thinner because of the trees and Layna was able to gather together an adequate pile of relatively dry wood. She put her hand over the pile and whispered the word that Mila had taught her, staving off a tear that threatened to form in her eye at the memory, and carefully reached for the power. A tiny flame burst into being within the pile, and soon her small fire was solidly burning. A far cry from the first time she had tried to make a fire she thought proudly.

She yanked her thoughts away from the painful direction they were once again trying to pull her in, and set about to find a bunch of pine boughs to lay on to sleep. As she was searching, she found a bunch of small rocks and she gathered these as well, setting them on the edge of the fire to warm. Soon she had enough boughs to make a relatively comfortable bed and she went to Fly's saddlebag. Inside, there was a portable water bag that Gryffon had thought of to always carry with them in case they needed water but couldn't get close enough to it themselves. She unhooked it and shook it out, the oiled leather forming a large bowl shape, and she stuffed it full of snow. She sat down with it next to the fire, holding it close to melt the snow while warming her hands as well.

She stared into the fire, finding its dancing flames mesmerizing, and she numbly took stock of her present situation. _So, basically, I am all alone in the middle of nowhere with only the few belongings I was able to quickly grab while my former house was burning, my mentor brutally stabbed to death, and my best friend kidnapped by probably the same murderers who were doing who knows what to him at this very moment._ _Well, it couldn't get any worse, right?_

Layna cringed at the thought, and looked up at the sky waiting for the Three to curse her with sleet or snow or _something_ , but the night remained calm. She sighed. She would have to try and save Gryffon - she couldn't just leave him in the hands of those people. Not when he had already saved her from the same, and she... _and I just can't leave anyone in their hands,_ she finished the thought.

No matter how hard she thought about it though, she had no idea how she was going to help him. She couldn't just walk into Jezebel's manor, she would be caught immediately. She knew the way around, of course, but she was sure that the other servants were under strict orders to report it at once if they caught sight of her. Despite their inclinations towards her, she was unsure that they would risk their own lives for her sake. All her imagined schemes ended with death or imprisonment, and soon Layna found herself yawning uncontrollably, her earlier hysteric energy completely drained.

The snow in the water bag had all melted and she offered some to each of the horses who drank it with relish. She took off both saddles and commandeered the blankets beneath them for her bed. She rolled the sleeves of her coat over her hands and used them as mitts to pick up the now hot rocks, and put them underneath the pine boughs for added warmth. She then coaxed the horses to lie on either side of her and she cuddled between them, wrapping her coat and the blankets tightly around her.

She lay staring at the bright stars in the sky above her and named each of the Three, sending them a tiny prayer to help her. She also sent out a silent apology to Mila for so crudely burning her body, and then whispered a prayer of peace for her as well. Again, a soothing calm overtook her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She was shivering when she woke, but no worse than when she had been back at Jezebel's. She saw that both horses had already risen, and were looking around for food. Fly noticed her movement and came over eagerly. He lipped at her hair, asking for food.

"I'm sorry, Gorgeous," she told him regretfully, "but I only have a handful of grain or so from your bags. I don't know what we're going to do." She fished out what she could, and they ate it greedily, looking for more. When they realized they weren't going to get anything else, they abandoned her to search for a patch of something edible on the ground. Layna looked around her, and sighed hopelessly. She had to pull herself together, but it was so overwhelming.

The quiet morning air was suddenly interrupted by the crunching of snow, and Layna spun around in alarm, searching for the source. A figure separated itself from the forest. As it became visible, Layna gave a cry of happiness and rushed forward to hug Charles. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you!" she exclaimed to him, choking on the words.

"What the blazes are you doin' out here all by yerself?" he asked her, perplexed.

She broke down, words bubbling out of her as she recounted yesterday's events.

Charles listened silently, and lowered himself to the ground, staring straight ahead. "They killed Mila?" His voice was hardly audible.

"Yes," whimpered Layna, "and I'm afraid they're going to kill Gryffon too. I don't know what I can do. Can't you help me please?" she pleaded.

Charles sat in silence for so long that Layna fidgeted uncomfortably. Out of desire to do something while Charles stared off into space, not answering her, she stood.

"Do you," Layna stammered, struggling to open her saddlebag and retrieve the jar of ashes, "Do you know what Mila would have liked to have happened to her remains?"

Charles looked at her appraisingly before taking the offered jar, holding it as one would a new-born child. "Aye, I believe I rightly do," he said softly. He carefully tucked the jar away with his own belongings and sat looking thoughtful a moment. After a time his expression hardened and he nodded shortly. "Mila would've wanted me to help you. No doubt we can come up with some sort of finagled plan to get ya in, but once yer there it'll be up to you to find Gryffon and get him out while I takes care of this Devon fellow." He paused for a moment before adding gruffly, "I hope you realize, young one, that we're gonna be right regular outlaws if we do somethin' like this to a noble woman. Layna swallowed hard, but nodded. _I am one already anyway._ "Good," said Charles, "then here's what we're gonna do..."
CHAPTER 18

Jezebel smiled at Gryffon, who stood shackled to the cell wall, and watched with pleasure as he spit out another mouthful of blood. She could feel the power emanating from him every time she caused him pain, and it made her shiver with pleasure at the sheer ecstasy of feeling the power flow into her.

It was ten times what she got when working with the hellhounds, and she made a mental note to make sure that she had Devon invite her to these chats more often from now on. _Now that I know how to use the power to get the full pleasure out of them_. The book hadn't mentioned using the pain spells on people, but she found they worked much the same as with animals. _Except that it doesn't seem to make him obedient, only cause him the same pain. But that is satisfying in and of itself. I will just have to work a little harder to get the good little puppy to obey._

Devon had found the shackles for her, supposedly they dated all the way back to the Dark King's era, and Jezebel was happy to be able to try them out. They had a magical binding on them which prevented the wearer from touching the power, and if they tried they got a lovely little jolt of pain. Jezebel had found it quite entertaining to watch when Gryffon had discovered this special property.

Gryffon lifted his head and glared at her through puffy eyes. "You're despicable," he insulted her.

She rewarded his insolence with another slap on his face. His head jerked sideways with the force, but he brought it back around and met her eyes again.

"You really are the most disgusting woman I have ever had the displeasure of knowing."

She hit him again, balling her fist this time so that a large gash appeared where a ring tore out part of his cheek. He infuriatingly turned back to her and stared her down again.

"You mean, rotten, hateful, little liar."

Smack!

"You don't deserve the air you breathe."

Smack!

"Nasty, manipulative, ugly whore." He spat out another mouthful of blood and Jezebel felt the heat of her fury rising.

She hit him again and again, using hands and feet and strengthening each blow with her talent, until she was panting with the exertion. Then she stood back, and watched as he coughed up blood and winced with pain at a large welt that was already appearing where she had kicked him in the ribs.

"Let me show you this neat little trick I just learned," she purred at him breathlessly and pointed a finger at him. Her whole hand started glowing with power, and Gryffon's body writhed in pain, as lightning bolts shot from her finger and were absorbed into his body through his chest.

As she drank in the power, she threw her head back in pleasure. After a long satisfying moment, she angled her chin back down to face him once more, enjoying the agony etched plainly on his face. She watched with rapt attention as a dark spot appeared slowly, ever so slowly, burning itself onto his chest. Darker and darker it grew as she held the stream steady, dropping it only when she was starting to sweat from the exertion of maintaining the contact.

She cocked her head to the side. "Isn't that interesting," she commented, poking harshly at the rune that had shaped itself from the burn. _That was an unanticipated side-effect. I wonder what it means._

Gryffon's head lolled against his chest, and his lips were cracking as they swelled. Still, he raised his head with obvious effort, and coughed at her, "Stupid bitch." His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp against its chains as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Revive him," she ordered Devon who came forward with a bucket of cold water, but then hesitated.

"I admire your endurance, mistress, but you may want to consider that if we kill him, the rest of the Council won't be nearly as pleased with you for bringing a spy to justice. Especially since that spy is also suspiciously someone you may have a grudge against."

She saw the reason in his argument but was in no mood for it with the power still flowing through her veins. The frenzy of her anger threatened to overpower her tenuous control, but she fought hard to control it anyway. _He is right, after all. And besides, I have all night to play with Gryffon_.

With effort, she took a deep breath and then another, dissipating the power that still sparked on her fingers. She nodded. "You're right, of course." She reached out instead to stroke the rune which had welted on Gryffon's chest. She brushed off a charred chunk of flesh before turning to Devon. "Come. Let's take some tea in the library while we rest."

As they sat in the library sipping their tea, a soft knock sounded at the door and the little mousy-haired servant girl peeked in, looking scared. "There's a minstrel at the door, Councilor, begging an audience. Would you care to be entertained?"

"Why not," Jezebel said cheerfully. "I'm in the mood for some music. Show him in." The girl nodded and retreated, returning with the minstrel in short order.

The minstrel was an old man, with a withered face that told of years of hard work under the brutal sun, and he used gnarled fingers to unsnap a case that held a beautiful lute. He settled himself onto a pillow on the floor provided him, and he started to play. The knotted fingers proved to be surprisingly flexible as he wove out a tale, adding his voice to the music, and though it was coarse with age, it held a strong baritone quality.

The music slowed, and Jezebel found herself relaxing. She sank deeper into her chair, her earlier excitement forgotten. That is, until suddenly a tremendous crash sounded from below which startled her into sitting straight up.

She looked wildly about for the source of the commotion, and at the same time Devon jumped out of his seat and took a step towards the door. Then he stopped abruptly and made a small grunting noise.

Jezebel watched him curiously. He turned back towards her slowly, and she saw that a knife was buried deep in his stomach.

Her gaze flew to the minstrel who had a sadistic grin on his face and his arm outstretched in a throwing motion. Another knife left his hand and hit Devon, who staggered backwards, blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. He looked down uncomprehendingly at the handles, bringing up a hand as if to brush them off and then took a step towards the minstrel, a pained grimace on his face.

Jezebel finally regained her self-possession and she reached for the power. Anger at the minstrel's offense gave her strength and she saw the old man's smile falter for a moment as he noticed her movement. She gave a triumphant shout as she felt his fear.

He turned on his heel and fled out the door. She followed, sure of her victory, but skidded to a halt when she saw what was happening in the hallway.

The little harlot of a maid that she had had thrown out was sprinting down the hall, clutching something to her chest. Fury raged inside Jezebel at the sight of her, and she unleashed the power she had been gathering for the minstrel at the girl instead. It sped towards the hussy like a gigantic ball of electricity, but then bounced off some unseen force, ricocheting into the wall and shattering a vase there.

Jezebel howled in frustrated anger, and she reached out a hand to claw at the girl as she passed.

The girl tripped as Jezebel's hand made contact, and she was swung around with the force of her momentum. Jezebel caught hold of her hair and yanked; causing the girl to lose her balance and she tumbled to the ground, bringing Jezebel down with her.

They landed in a pile of sprawling limbs, the girl exclaiming in pain as Jezebel's elbow jammed into her stomach. The box she had been holding tumbled out of the girl's hand as it hit the stone floor roughly, and she scrambled out from under Jezebel to make a grab for it.

Jezebel brought her foot around, kicking the box away from her, and resumed her attack. She balled a fist and smashed it into the girl's side.

The girl grabbed at her ribs reflexively and then whirled around to face her, bringing up her fists as she did. Her expression held pain, but behind it was an intense anger that Jezebel had never thought possible on the innocent-looking face.

It distracted Jezebel for a moment, allowing the girl to land a shot on her jaw. It hit off the mark as she was still off balance from her turn, and it was only a momentary setback. Jezebel whipped her head back around to laugh at the girl, but was taken by surprise when she was hit again.

She blinked her eyes as stars danced in front of them, and she grabbed for the girl. Her fingers closed around the blond hair once more as she pulled the girl forward to interrupt her barrage of punches.

The girl countered this by bringing her head forward sharply, connecting with Jezebel's nose in a tremendous burst of pain and blood.

Jezebel's fingers loosened their grip, and the girl turned to crane her neck around, searching for the object she had lost.

The last thing Jezebel saw before darkness overtook her was a strange symbol behind the girl's right ear.

*

Layna let Jezebel's limp body to fall to the floor with a satisfying thud, and looked frantically around for the box. She spied it in the corner and hurried forward to grab it, cradling it to her chest. She looked up and down the hall, but it was deserted, and an eerie silence had descended over the manor. Layna followed in Charles' wake out through the back entrance and found him waiting for her, already mounted on Axe and holding Fly's reins ready for her. She jumped on and they spurred the horses, urging them to gallop as soon as they were out in open land. The horses seemed to pick up on their riders' excited states and matched their pace to fit with it.

"Did ya get him?" asked Charles once they were a good distance away and they had allowed the panting horses to slow.

"Yes," answered Layna breathlessly. "Are you sure he's okay in there?"

Charles shrugged. "Better than he was with the demon lady. He might be agettin' a bit banged up, but he'll live."

Layna didn't answer. Gryffon had been in pretty bad shape when she had slipped down into the cellar dungeon. Charles' plan had been that she would stow away with him as he was allowed into the manor under the guise of a minstrel by riding in his magic barrel.

He had shown her that not only was it the barrel she had seen him with in the marketplace, but it had another form as well. It could take on the appearance of a small box which could be concealed easily, and would hold just as much. Charles had tried to explain to her the mechanisms of the box, but it was beyond her realm of understanding. He attempted to liken it to a storage building somewhere else that the box was a dimensional hole to. He said that once she was there she would feel no different from simply being in a storage shed. Not particularly comfortable, but survivable. Layna had been doubtful, and hesitant to try and place her body into a magic container, but she had been assured that she would be fine. She had finally just flung out her hands in surrender, and decided to take his word for it.

She had ridden in this manner into Jezebel's house, and upon Charles' knock, had emerged while Katrina went to tell Jezebel of her visitor.

She had slipped unnoticed into the cellar, and found Gryffon in the same cell that she had occupied not all that long ago. Layna felt a twinge of guilt that she had not saved him as he had her.

He had been slumped against the wall, bleeding and bruised from dozens of injuries, his clothing in strips around him. A blackened and blistering wound was festering on his chest.

Layna had cried out at the sight of him, which had roused him. He had peered at her through one eye, the other too swollen to even slit open. His lips had cracked into a smile and he raised his eyebrows in a brief salute.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he had said, "and when I say sore, I mean sore." Layna had rushed to his side as soon as she had the door open, after melting the lock with magic fire. She had applied the few rudimentary techniques for dulling pain and speeding healing that Mila had shown her.

As soon as she was able to get him to move, she had urged him into the box and hurried back up the stairs to meet Charles outside. That's when Jezebel had tried to intercept her.

She shuddered, wondering what Jezebel would have done to her this time if she had gotten her hands on them again.

They reached the spot where they had hidden their belongings, and they dismounted to collect them up.

"We'll hafta take him out now," Charles told her, "It's not really meant for an extended stay, you'd hafta spend the extra money to get a tent box for that." Layna wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but decided not to ask and simply brought out the box to retrieve Gryffon. She reached inside, searching for his hand and she caught hold of it. She gently pulled him out.

He gasped for air and Charles winced, a guilty smile playing on his lips. "Whoops, might've left him in there a smidge too long."

Layna stared at him wide-eyed. "I thought you told me it was perfectly safe!"

Charles shrugged. "Well, he's alright now so no biggie. Sheesh, you're captious. I'll take that back." He snatched the box and turned his back on them, so Layna turned her attention to Gryffon.

"We have to ride out a bit farther in case she mounts a hunt for us. Do you think you're up for it?" she asked him compassionately.

Gryffon gave her a weak smile, marred by the condition of his face. He closed his one good eye briefly before opening it again to answer. "Well, not much choice. I think there's little doubt that she'll send someone out after us." He sat up and winced. "I hate to say it, but I think I'll need to ride with one of you. I might pass out on the horse by myself, and I don't think there's an inch left on me for another bruise."

Layna nodded. "We were going to have you ride with me so I can help you heal as we go. Mila wasn't able to teach me too much before she - but I can help you some." She caught herself before mentioning Mila, she didn't want to add to Gryffon's pain just yet. She paused in thought a moment and then added, "I don't suppose you'd be alright with being tied on to the saddle? I'm not sure I could hold you if you passed out on me."

Gryffon groaned good-naturedly. "Well, if I'm going to be tied up, at least it will be next to a beautiful woman." Layna flushed and rose to cover her embarrassment, and dug out the rope from their bags.

She took a few extra minutes, despite Charles' annoyance, to clean and bandage Gryffon's wounds. Healing or no healing, she didn't want them to get the chance to get infected. Besides, it would make him that much more comfortable and easier to handle during the ride.

Gryffon's moan of pleasure and relief as the healing salves absorbed into his wounds and the numbing effect took hold was reward enough for her, and she ignored Charles' smart remarks on the delay.
CHAPTER 19

Jonathan raged in the hallways of his house, grabbing up decorations and hurling them at the walls. Once he almost hit a cowed servant, who stood frozen in place, too scared or too stupid to move out of the way. The statue had just missed her head and it banged into the stone wall behind her, crumbling a large chunk before she gathered her wits about her and fled.

He screamed his anger at the top of his lungs, and continued his rampage for several long minutes before he wore himself out. Then he surveyed the destruction, panting. _How could she have gotten away? My greatest source of pleasure and she is gone! Was I lying to myself when I thought she had cared for me too? No, of course not, she had to have been taken, she had to have been. She wouldn't have just left me like this. We had something special._ He had been forced to travel for business, and had come home to find her chambers empty. The servants had been too terrified to even tell him, they just led him up.

Jonathan glared around, looking for the servants now who had all mysteriously absented themselves. He marched towards the bedroom again, and looked down when his heel crunched on something as he stepped. Tears sprung to his eyes as he realized it was her favorite glass figurine, a tiny pink unicorn. He gruffly rubbed a sleeve over his eyes and fought down the emotion as he swept into the room, searching about for her means of escape. _I mean kidnapping._

A sharp fragment of mirror was bloodstained and discarded on the bed, next to the ripped remains of the silk bonds that she had worn to please him.

A blast of cold air chilled him as the wind picked up outside. It caused the curtains to flutter into the room, and revealed that the glass in the window was smashed as well.

Jonathan pushed the curtain aside to peer out. Glass shards littered the ground below, and red drops of blood could still be seen standing out against the white snow. He raised an eyebrow. _That must have been quite a fall. Perhaps someone pushed her_. The footprints were distorted as if the person was staggering, and were soon lost amongst the packed snow of the street. Jonathan cursed his frustration and went to search out a servant to have them clean up the mess.

Some time and many unhappy servants later, Jonathan was in his carriage on his way to meet Jezebel. Though he was not in the mood for her attitude, he needed to make a report to Master which could not be delayed.

He drummed his fingers on his knees and twitched nervously. He closed his eyes in an effort to be still, but the urge could not be denied. He took out a small metal box and pried a fingernail under the edge to pop it open. It flicked up, and Jonathan dipped a finger in the white powder inside. He rubbed it along his gums and sat back slowly, sighing with pleasure as the drug took hold. The stress of dealing with Jezebel had grated his nerves so badly that he had turned to his old habit of relief.

A calming sensation spread through him, and he spent the rest of the ride in bliss.

He was so lost in his private euphoria that he didn't notice when the carriage stopped. The driver had to climb down and knock on the carriage door to alert him to their arrival. The driver eyed him with trepidation as he opened the door, but Jonathan ignored him, and brushed him aside on his way to Jezebel.

The door opened before he even reached it, and a hysterical girl came flying out of it. Forgetting her manners in her panic, she grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Sir," she exclaimed, "we've been attacked! The lady and Master Devon are," she broke down and started sobbing against him, sniffling on his shirt. She suddenly seemed to remember herself and hastily backed away, removing her hands from him as though she had suddenly been burned. "I'm so sorry, sir," she stammered. "Please, please won't you come and help?" she implored him.

He smiled at her languidly, wondering what this was all about. "Of course," he drawled. "Do show the way."

He followed lazily after her as she led him back up towards the house and in through the front door which had been left wide open as she had come flying out of it. She motioned for him to come in, and then moved aside in the hall, pointing to a crumpled shape on the floor.

Jonathan moved closer and saw that it was Jezebel, lying unmoving in an undignified heap. He gave a soft chuckle and ignored the confused look that the girl gave him. _I wonder what the stupid woman got herself into?_ He knelt down, feeling for a pulse. He found one, and it was strong, so he told the girl to fetch some water and she hurried off, glad to have someone to tell her what to do.

He strolled down the hall to where the library door stood ajar, and he pushed it farther open. He stepped into the room cautiously. There on the floor lay Devon, looking even worse for wear than Jezebel, with two knives sticking into him up to the hilt.

"Tsk tsk," Jonathan commented. "I never did like you anyway," he told the body, and was turning to leave when movement caught his eye. "Well, would you look at that," he said, amazed, as Devon's hand moved towards him. He caught the man's eye, which had opened with great effort. The look he gave Jonathan was enough to make him turn on his heel and leave him there to die, but Jonathan sighed and rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should help you then."

He strode over to Devon, muttering a few healing words to help stave off the flow of blood as he roughly pulled the two blades from the man's body. Devon convulsed as he did this, and Jonathan watched him with interest while he writhed. He then put a hand over Devon's forehead, and whispered another word to put him into a healing trance.

Despite the relief it would have been to have the need for visiting Jezebel removed by Devon's death, Jonathan supposed it was for the best. Master did enjoy the access to Devon's network. Jonathan picked himself up and brushed his hands together, convinced that the rest of the healing was up to Devon now.

He made his way back into the hall to see if the girl had returned. She was just getting back and looked relieved to see him, as if afraid she might have to pour the cold water on her mistress herself. _Well_ , he admitted, _I suppose if Jezebel was my mistress I wouldn't want to upset her either_. He took the bucket from her, and dumped it unceremoniously over Jezebel's head. She coughed and sputtered, but did regain consciousness.

She sat up and started right in on complaining. "Where is that little slut? How dare she come in here? I'll kill her!" Jonathan half-listened for a moment before clearing his throat. She looked at him for the first time and demanded, "What are you doing here?"

Jonathan snorted. "That's a nice way to treat someone who just saved your precious little lap dog's life and revived you from unconsciousness. That is, unless you put the two knives in Devon and then came out here to take a nap on the floor?"

"Of course not," she snapped at him. "You saved Devon? He's all right?"

He licked his lips, which were suddenly dry, and answered, "I did. For the moment anyway. He's in a trance right now so his body can heal without putting any more strain on itself. I didn't have a chance to look closer though, so he could still die." He waved a hand with an air of uncaring.

Jezebel wiped at the water on the front of her dress and gave him a pinched look before heading into the library to check on Devon. She knelt beside him and put her own hand over him, adding her strength to the web of healing that Jonathan had woven and Jonathan was impressed by her power despite himself. Although he did note in the back of his mind that while Jezebel was lending Devon her strength through power, a tiny flow of energy was also flowing back into her. As Jonathan looked curiously at it with his mage sight he saw that it looked blood red.

"So," Jonathan said, bringing her attention back to him, "what the blazes happened here?"

Jezebel's face twisted in rage and she spat out, "That little slut that I had thrown out was here and she stole something. A little box. She had an old man with her posing as a minstrel who got Devon." She nodded to Devon.

"And what was in the box?" Jonathan prompted, trying to get the whole story out of her.

"I don't know," Jezebel said irritably. "It wasn't anything that I recognized. But why else would she be here..." She paused for a moment, thinking, before a shadow passed over her face. "Unless..."

She stood and pushed past Jonathan, ignoring his queries. She quickened her pace as she came to the top of the stairs that led to the cellar. She took these two at a time, and Jonathan followed, keeping pace.

At the bottom, Jezebel roared in fury at the sight of an empty cell. The lock on the door looked to have been melted away. Jonathan saw tiny wisps of flame dancing off her fingertips, and he wisely chose to shut his mouth, stepping aside so that he was blending in with the wall and out of Jezebel's way. He knew the dangers of touching the power when not in control of one's emotions and had no desire to be what Jezebel took her overload out on.

Luckily, she was still facing the cell when she lost control. She screamed belligerently, and threw her hands out with fingers wide. Great balls of fire shot out from them, blowing through the cell wall and leaving a huge blackened crater on the other side.

Jezebel turned towards him, breathing deeply and he waited for her to regain control. He could see the fight she had within herself, but admirably her breathing slowed in a relatively short amount of time, and Jonathan took a tentative step towards her.

"Well," she said tranquilly, "Shall we take some tea in the library?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her abrupt change of character, but didn't comment. He simply moved aside, and indicated that she should lead the way. She did so, carefully lifting her dress which was now completely dry, and made her way back to the library. She told the confused servants to bring them tea as she stepped around the unconscious body of Devon.

When the servant returned to hand them tea, Jezebel ordered in an off-hand manner, "Do something with that, would you?" She waved at Devon's limp form, and then turned to Jonathan. He was started to feel a bit anxious again, and he started tapping his foot on the ground as she asked him, "What can I do for you today?"

Jonathan scratched at an itch that was spreading over his arm and answered. "I need a report on your progress, and you may as well tell me who it was in the cell down there too."

Jezebel wrinkled her nose at him, but complied. "Devon chatted with a few of the people as you suggested, but none could tell us very much. Either they were very well trained or they really just don't know." She gave him a few details of the interviews and he conceded that no real information had been obtained.

"And the cell downstairs," he prompted.

"That had Gryffon in it. You may remember Gryffon as the ungrateful urchin who was here a while back until I kicked him out after I caught him harassing one of the maids."

Jonathan nodded, though this was not the story that he had heard.

She went on, "Well, Devon had been watching him and had determined that he was under suspicion of being from Treymayne – since he lied about where he came from. Not only that, but he had met with contacts at several locations thought to be drop spots with men who then rode off east before shaking their tails."

Jonathan leaned forward intently, and scratched his other arm now which had started to itch as well. "And what did you learn from him?"

Jezebel shifted in her seat. "Well, he was very uncooperative and he didn't want to talk."

Jonathan felt his own anger returning. Not only had he had to deal with his own personal loss today, but now he would have to report that they had learned nothing to Master. He would be most displeased, and unlikely to want to help Jonathan recover his lost prize.

"He was carrying a piece of parchment, but it's nonsense, just some drivel about hunting."

Jonathan stopped scratching and demanded, "Where is it?"

Jezebel waved towards one of the tables that were piled high with books. "I think I threw it into one of those books, but really it's nothing."

"Maybe to you," snapped Jonathan ungraciously as he rifled through the books until he found the parchment. He waved it at her accusingly, "But maybe not to everyone." She looked at him curiously, and he wondered if she would cause a scene to take it back. The thought seemed to occur to her, but then she must have changed her mind.

"There was something strange about the girl," she commented nonchalantly, "a mark on her neck. Does that mean anything to anybody?"

Jonathan looked at her, trying to feign boredom while ignoring the itch which had moved down to his side. "What kind of mark?" he asked a bit more excitedly than he intended. He watched for her reaction.

"Oh, some kind of symbol, similar to the runes used for spells. Probably nothing, but I thought I'd mention it just in case since you got so excited about the hunting letter." She said the last with more sarcasm than Jonathan would have normally cared to take without retaliating, but he let it go. He opted instead for a quick exit, his mood much improved by this unexpected news.

Once in the carriage, he took another tiny bit of the white power and scrubbed it on his gums. The effects were starting to wear off faster than they used to. He made his way to the meeting point and was pleased to see that despite the fact that he was running late, he had still arrived before Master. The man was barely two steps behind him, however, and he greeted him curtly before waving him to report.

Jonathan gave a brief description of all that had transpired at Jezebel's and handed him the parchment. It read:

"T **h** e hun **ti** n **g** **h** as **be** en **l** ea **n** her **e**. I ha **v** e se **e** n ve **ry lit** tl **e** **i** n t **h** e way o **f si** gn. **I** di **d fin** d o **n** e smal **l** ru **b** on a t **re** e, but **n** ot w **el** l **pr** on **ou** nc **ed a** n **d** the **r** e wa **s n** o s **crap** e ne **a** rb **y no** r **we** re **the** tr **ack** s ve **r** y **l** ar **g** e **a** t al **l**. T **h** e **d** eer **s** e **em** t **o** b **e t** a **k** i **ng** t **h** e wi **n** te **r** h **a** rd **th** is year."

His master nodded in approval. "You were right to think that this may be more useful than it seems. And the other news?"

Jonathan continued. "The servant girl that defied Jezebel has a mark. Jezebel said she saw a strange rune-like symbol behind her ear, the same place that all the others have been. And, the level of power it would have taken to have burned away the metal of the lock indicates that she's fairly strong. She has a mark." He repeated it in his excitement.

"Does she now," commented Master, his curiosity aroused. "Well, that is interesting news indeed."
CHAPTER 20

The three riders finally stopped for the night, and Layna dragged her aching body off the horse. She was sore all over, both from riding and from trying to support Gryffon in front of her while he slipped in and out of consciousness. She felt drained, and barely had enough energy to help Charles set up camp before collapsing into one of the pine bough beds and falling instantly asleep.

The next morning, she felt much more refreshed and was surprised to see Gryffon sitting up by the fire with Charles. He looked much better than he had yesterday.

"Ho there, sleepy-head," greeted Charles as he noticed her movement and she grinned sheepishly.

"I guess I was a little exhausted from yesterday."

"As well you should be," said Gryffon. "I feel ten times better than I did and I know Charles' cooking here is not the cause," he joked, jerking his head towards Charles who made a face at him. "You used up quite a lot of energy, physical and magical."

"Hmm." She eyed the eggs that Charles was frying. As soon as he handed her the plate she wolfed them down, burning her mouth in her impatience. She licked her fingers clean and sighed happily. "I don't know, Gryffon," she told him blissfully, "I think his cooking just could be that amazing."

She giggled, and Charles grinned widely while pointing the spoon at Gryffon. "You see? Someone 'preciates my cookin'." His expression suddenly dulled.

"Are you alright?" Layna asked him, concerned.

Charles looked taken by surprise as he came out of his lost little moment. "What? Oh yes, I was just remembering Mila's cookin'." He paused and then said in a pained voice, "I can't believe she's gone." Layna glanced at Gryffon and realized by his lack of surprise that Charles must have filled him in on Mila's passing. Charles' voice took on a firmer quality. "She saved me you know." They listened quietly as he told his story. "I got caught out in a big ol' snowstorm some years back. It had come on all of a sudden like, as if one of the Three took a great big bucket and dumped it down right atop of me. Took a bad step on the pass, and I went down. Buried alive." He paused for a long moment and Layna wondered if he would continue. "Then she was there, even now I'm not sure that I know how she found me. But find me she did. She took me in and cared for me, healin' me even as the fever took hold and I was ravin' lunatic mad. For weeks I was in delirium, caused quite a bit of a ruckus at her house there, I did." He chuckled. "She was one fine woman," he mused adoringly. Then a shadow passed over his features. "And to have her snatched away from this world by someone as slimy and hateful as that slug of a man hurts me. I'll help you two youngsters much as I can to get back at them. I don't like that awful woman any more than the slime who held the knife. No doubt she was behind it." Charles turned to Gryffon and asked him, "Why did they kidnap you anywho?"

Gryffon fidgeted uncomfortably, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Finally, he seemed to come to a conclusion and he answered. "She found out something about me. She thought that by torturing me she could get me to betray more about it. Not to mention the fact that she's a truly evil individual who revels in causing pain to any who aren't blindly obedient to her demands."

Charles watched him, expressionless. Layna looked from his face to Gryffon's and asked, "Well, what did she find out about you?"

He paused and wouldn't look her in the eye. "She found out that I'm really from Treymayne. I'm an agent here sent because we believe that someone is collecting high talents, and now there's been information that your government may be planning a war." He rambled it all out quickly, as if hoping that by breaking the news swiftly it would soften the blow to Layna's pride at being deceived.

"You're what?" she sputtered, and Gryffon repeated himself, almost verbatim. "So everything was a lie?" she shot at him. "And you were just using us all to milk us for information, trying to make us betray our own homeland? How could you?"

"I wasn't-"

"No!" she cut him off. "I don't want to hear it. All this," she waved her hands in front of her in a circular motion, "is way too much for me to handle right now." She felt tears welling up and she impatiently brushed them off. She stood from the fire and stalked off.

"Layna, wait," Gryffon called after her.

Layna heard Charles advise, "Let her go," and no footsteps followed. Layna was devastated. _How much of what we did together had he then gone and reported to his countrymen? Was it some big joke that Gryffon got all this information from a silly little girl who didn't know any better?_ Layna laughed shortly to herself. _As if I have any information that was worth reporting. To think that I just risked my life for that, that_. Layna couldn't think of an appropriate word for him. She wanted to hate him. But she didn't. After a while the cold started to seep in through her clothes, and she forced herself back to the fire where Gryffon and Charles were speaking in low voices.

"So," she said coldly, only meeting Charles's eyes, "where are we going to go now?"

Charles looked to Gryffon and back at Layna who still refused to look in Gryffon's direction. Gryffon remained silent, so Charles answered, "We were thinkin' it'd be right smart to head down to that there Avonmora. There's enough people there that we shouldn't be noticed, and Gryffon can get a message to his people to ask for help."

Layna nodded curtly. "Fine." She moved her bed farther around to the other side of the fire and she curled herself up into it to warm up, resolutely turning away from the two men.
CHAPTER 21

Jezebel adjusted her hair, pushing stray wisps back away from her face. She listened with feigned interest to the speaker who was going on and on about the importance of the Council members. Normally she would have been pleased to listen to someone rightly talk about how important she was, but at this particular time she was quite anxious to return to her room. She wanted to see if Devon was well enough yet to be sent on a mission, and was therefore growing impatient with the speaker's long-windedness.

Devon had been healing rapidly since she had added her power to his trance. She had set three different healers to the task of fixing him up to get him back in peak condition so he could get back to work for her.

As she pushed the strand of hair away from her face, her fingers lingered on her neck a moment. She felt the rough surface of raised skin, tracing her fingertip over the mark she had there. Devon had tried once before, when the mark had first appeared on her neck, to try and find out what it was. He had no luck, and eventually his attentions had to be employed elsewhere, leaving the mystery of her mark unsolved. But perhaps now that they knew about the Order, he could make some progress into the matter by adding their contacts to his own. From the information contained in the books from Farthen, Jezebel had ascertained that the mark was a variant form of the rune for 'blood'. But more than that she couldn't fathom. After seeing the same mark on that hussy, she was not about to let the matter drop again. She knew, despite Jonathan's attempt to cover his excitement, that the mark she had mentioned seeing on that little slut had meant something to him. Jezebel wanted to know what it was.

The speaker was just finishing up about the Councilor's roles in the kingdom, and he called each one of them forward one by one. As her name was called, she rose gracefully from her seat and waved to the applauding crowd. She smiled at them, watching their faces as she glanced around the room. Most here were lower nobles, excited to have received an invitation to the palace, and they cheered her with abandon. She noted that both Carlon and Farthen were here as well. She gave them each a short wave. She also nodded to her father who was clapping politely, sitting within a group of older men who were mostly chewing on cigars. He gave her a small smile in return.

As the ceremony ended and people started meandering towards the refreshments, Jezebel excused herself from her throng of admirers, saying she was worried about Devon and wanted to check in on him. She made some idle chit-chat with people on the way out, not wanting to appear rude to her future subjects, and then demurely excused herself from them as well.

She quickened her pace as she left the main hall, winding her way through the palace halls towards her personal suite. She sighed happily to herself. _My own suite at the palace! I always knew that this is where I should be, and though the King's bed would be even better, this is another step towards my eventual rule. Now that I've gotten this far, nothing can stop my advancement to garner even more power! The Order has been a useful stepping-stone to help gain my rightful place within the palace. Between the power I can gain from rising in their ranks to use those below me and the power I already now have as a Councilor, no one will be able to stop me._

She unlocked the door to her suite, and pulled it shut behind her after entering. Devon was sitting up on the bed, gingerly sipping at a mug of something steaming that a healer was holding. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as she pushed it towards him, urging him to finish it. With a resigned sigh, he gulped it down.

"How are you feeling?" Jezebel asked him, dismissing the healer with a look. The woman quickly removed herself from their presence.

"I'm feeling much better, Councilor. I may be up for that little errand you wanted tonight as long as my contact is available." Jezebel nodded, pleased. The sooner she found out about the mark the happier she'd be.

"What about our other project, any news back on that yet?" she asked anxiously. As soon as she had gotten rid of Jonathan the other day when - _when the unthinkable happened and my prize was stolen out from underneath my nose_ \- she had gone straight to the country manor and taught her hounds there a whole new little trick.

She had been pleasantly surprised to find that she had still been gripping a tuft of hair that she had ripped from the girl's head, and she used this to ingrain upon her pets who to kill. That particular rune shone blood red when she was done, having poured her anger into the shaping of their training. She had no doubt that when they found her - and find her they would \- they would rip her gorgeous little body to shreds. It was a moment that she wished she could be there for, but she would not risk the whore getting away again. Twice already her quarry had escaped her, and she did not intend to give them another chance.

She had alerted her own militia, as well as the city guard, that the renegades were dangerous traitors to be caught and brought in by any means necessary. _I do so hope that the hounds find them first though_. Devon had guessed that the renegades would be out in the wilderness, and out there you never know what you might run into. Whereas in the city a death would have to be explained, in the woods when you come across a pile of flesh, you just move quickly on, especially with all the rumors floating around about the reawakening of the dark beasts. Jezebel smiled, imagining the girl reduced to a bloodied pile of flesh and bones. Gryffon, on the other hand, she had told them to drag to her. To drag him within an inch of his life if they needed to, but him she wanted to see. She wanted him to look into her eyes as he died and know that she had been the cause of it.

A bell rang at the door and Jezebel jumped at the piercing sound. She quickly recovered herself, and called out that whoever it was may enter. Jonathan came strolling into the room and took a seat before Jezebel could offer him one, spreading himself out over it.

"Won't you sit down," she said sarcastically at the door where he should still be standing, and then rolled her eyes to turn towards him.

"And how are we doing after our little escapade the other day?" Jonathan asked Devon, who simply glowered at him. "Well," admonished Jonathan, giving his eyebrows a quick raise. "He's a talkative one isn't he? You'd think he'd show a little appre-shiation." His words slurred slightly.

"He did just get stabbed twice you might remember," Jezebel defended Devon. "Not to mention that it is only thanks to him and his work, despite his wounds, that we have something to report to you."

Jonathan yawned. "Oh? And what is that?"

Devon finally spoke. "I had an informant report this morning that two men were caught just inside the border from Treymayne."

"And what did they tell the informant?" Jonathan asked in a voice one might use when talking to a small child.

Devon's glaring eyes reduced themselves to slits and he continued, though his tone was barbed, "Only one of them would talk, the other killed himself before they could interrogate him. But the one who did indicated that there were more like them coming through and that they were aware that the King was planning something."

Jonathan stared off into space, looking past Devon, and didn't say anything. Devon looked askance at Jezebel, but she simply shook her head and shrugged.

Jonathan seemed to come back to himself and he shook his head as if to clear it. "What was that?" he asked. Devon gave him a strange look, glancing again at Jezebel who nodded for him to repeat it. He did so, and this time it seemed to sink in for the man. _What is going on with him?_ Jezebel wondered, annoyed at this change in his behavior.

"Devon, could you excuse us for a moment?" she asked Devon, her eyes never leaving Jonathan. Jonathan followed the other man with his eyes as Devon stood and walked out of the room. They had taken on a rather glazed quality, and Jezebel felt the urge to snap in front of his face.

"What is the mark, Jonathan?" she asked, acting on a hunch that perhaps Jonathan's faculties were not running at full capacity today, and prepared to take full advantage of that fact.

Jonathan's mood swung around again, this time anger replacing the fascination with which he had watched Devon leave, and he sneered at her. "Why should I tell you? It's none of your concern. You know what we choose to tell you and nothing more."

"But I know of someone else who has one too, and you didn't tell me that," she goaded him. She was rewarded with another surge of anger and an outburst.

"If you mean yourself, my dear, think again. We've known about you for some time. In fact, if it wasn't for Master taking an interest in you, the gods only know why, you'd still just be Specimen 32, a number, nothing more. And not only that, but-" Jonathan seemed to suddenly come to reality once more and cut himself off mid-sentence, falling silent.

"What do you mean by that?" Jezebel demanded, infuriated that he would make such a strange and unflattering-sounding claim. He clamped his mouth tightly shut, however, and without another word rose and walked past her out of the room. He didn't pause in the hallway when she yelled after him either. She stood there watching him get farther and farther down the hall, and shouted obscenities at him all the way.

"That's hardly any way for a lady to act," said a voice from behind her. She turned, and her father stepped out of the shadows towards her. She nodded to him and shrugged. She fought down the flush that annoyingly tried to overtake her face.

She asked him in and he acquiesced, saying that he had come to beg an audience with the new Council member and ask her how it was all going.

"It's all going wonderfully, Father," she gushed to him, putting the little twerp, Jonathan, out of her mind. "The other Council members are completely in agreement with my plans."

"I'm happy to hear that. And your rooms here, they are satisfactory?"

Jezebel tried to read his tone. Had he asked that because he too, knew that she deserved even better than these, or was this a snub at her, that her rise to power was only because she wanted more girlish things. She couldn't make up her mind so she answered simply, "They will be for the time being."

Her father exchanged a few other pleasantries with her before departing; shaking her hand in an uncharacteristic parting gesture and leaving her wondering what his real reasons were for coming by. Perhaps he was jealous of her new status and had come in an attempt to discover something bad about it. Or maybe he hoped to use it somehow to gain himself something. _Ah well, I've obtained my seat on the Council and now I intend to use it to my benefit, no one else's._ She found herself losing interest in her father rapidly, not even bothering to hold onto the anger that she had first felt.

She picked up her wineglass and took a sip, noticing as she set it back down that a smudge of blood had appeared on its body. She looked down at her hand and saw that there was a tiny nick on her palm. Perhaps she had gotten a paper-cut. She grabbed a towel from next to the wash-bin, cleaning it off while sealing the cut with the power. Since using the hounds, she'd felt much more confident in the use of her talent and she reveled in the sense of satisfaction it gave her in its everyday use.

Now that she was officially seated and moved into the palace, she needed to formulate new plans. Being one of six on a Council where they had to agree on things simply was not going to cut it for her. She needed to find a way to be more influential to the King and the kingdom's happenings than by being just one of the members. _Hmm, perhaps I should get the King to marry me and then he could have an unfortunate accident._ She considered this possibility for a moment. _No, he's far too handsome to just dispose of. I'd like to keep him around. He'd just need to be more agreeable._ Her feminine charms may not do the trick, though she was quite good at using them, but there were always other methods of convincing people. Perhaps she'd have to set Devon to the task of finding out things about the King that he may not want shared. After all, he was from the outskirts of the country, and who knows what sort of uncivilized things they did out there. There was bound to be something she could uncover that would persuade him to join her.

Doing some more research on the other Councilors wouldn't hurt either, it may be a good way to sway them towards her cause if she could dangle a little tidbit of information that she knew about them in front of their noses. She'd also have to have Devon look into this 'Specimen 32' business. She hadn't the faintest idea what Jonathan had meant by it, and it only further fueled her curiosity about the mark. Perhaps the two were connected. Her mind made up, Jezebel went to draft some possibilities for Devon.
CHAPTER 22

Layna walked Fly along slowly as he picked his way through the snow covered ground. She didn't bother to wait up for Charles and Gryffon. Reason kept telling her that it was silly of her to be angry with Gryffon. After all, he really didn't do anything to her personally. He had whispered to her last night that he had been there to watch Jezebel and through her, her father. That Treymayne's interest in her family was the reason that he got caught up with the awful woman anyway. This had only further upset Layna, however, since he had just told her that the reason had been money. And maybe it was both somehow, that money had ended giving him a good excuse, but it still hurt her to know that he had been keeping things from her. _And so easily and with such a straight face_.

It made her wonder if they should trust anything that came out of his mouth. He had lied to her. Lied about who he was, and where he was from, lied that he was even a citizen of the country. Perhaps he was leading them towards Treymayne so he could sell them off as slaves. Old wives tales painted pictures of Treymayne as a cannibalistic, barbarian country whose occupants would eat your babies for breakfast. Layna rolled her eyes. She didn't really believe anything like that, but she –

Her thought was cut short by Fly suddenly lurching to a stop below her.

She realized with horror that while she had been daydreaming, they had walked out onto a waterway. She could see below where Fly's hooves had skidded, the snow had been scraped off to reveal patches of ice. And not very thick patches. As she watched, a spider web crack started beneath the hoof, and slowly spread outwards in little spurts. Fly whinnied, his eyes round and wide, and he swished his tail nervously.

She gently urged him to walk backwards, and he took one step and then another. Terror rushed through her with every cracking sound.

Then suddenly a hoof splashed through and Fly panicked, throwing her off his back as he turned heel and ran. He made it a few steps before crashing through the ice. Luck was with him, however, and the bottom was only a few feet down where he broke through. He used this to leap out to solid ground, limping along the shore.

Layna wasn't so lucky. She skidded across the ice where she had been thrown, unfortunately farther onto the frozen river. Her muscles all seemed paralyzed in place, and she watched Fly on the edge. He held his head low, and his breath came out in great billowing clouds of steam. She tried to keep her weight spread out, while keeping low to the ice, and she held her breath, waiting for it to give way beneath her.

After a few moments it still held, and she let out the breath, analyzing her situation. She was only about twenty feet from the edge, but it was already cracked, and water was beginning to seep up through at an alarming rate. Layna decided that the water underneath was likely moving at a good clip. _Great_ , she thought to herself. She briefly thought about using magic, but since her only training so far had dealt with making fire and healing, she didn't see how that was going to help her. _Well, I can't just lay here forever._

She started slowly belly-crawling towards the edge. She only made it about a foot before it suddenly gave way beneath her. Her breath was knocked out of her by the shock of the cold water enveloping her body. The last thing she heard as she slid backwards into the cold abyss was her name being called. _I'm sorry Gryffon_ , she thought, slipping into unconsciousness.

When she woke she was snuggled deep in furs, and warmth was emanating from a body next to hers. In her semi-conscious state she cuddled up to it, and wrapped her arms around the warmth. She was surprised when skin hit skin. She jerked fully awake and realized that she was just about naked, and next to another body – which she now identified as Gryffon's – who was also scantily clad.

She lay frozen, unsure what to do when he spoke. "Layna," he said softly turning his head to look at her. "Are you alright?" Layna nodded mutely and he started to move. "I'm sorry. I'll get out of here now. You were just so cold and you weren't warming up, I was afraid that if you didn't get warmed up soon..." he trailed off.

She put a hand on his shoulder, halting his movement. "Stay," she said, giving him a weak smile, "you're warm."

He settled back down awkwardly and they lay in silence for a minute. "I'm really sorry, Layna," he said finally. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think it would matter that I couldn't tell someone the whole truth. Lying to Jezebel and trying to find out what she was up to didn't matter. She's an evil person, I couldn't have cared less about betraying her. But I wanted to tell you so many times, I just didn't know how..." he trailed off again before repeating lamely, "I'm sorry."

Layna hesitated, wanting to yell at him, wanting to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much pain he had caused. But she didn't, she couldn't, because deep down she knew that the only reason it had hurt her so much was because she had cared about him. And she still cared about him. So she said nothing. Instead, she put her arms around him again, this time purposefully. He put a tentative hand on the small of her back.

They lay there, taking comfort in the closeness of each other for some time. Layna sighed, and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. He shifted and turned to face her. His hand on her back drew her closer, and his lips found hers. He kissed her gently, and a rush spread through Layna, every nerve tingling in a burst of excitement.

She kissed him back, and he gave a small happy sigh. "I was so worried about you, beautiful." Layna felt another rush at this nickname, and she snuggled farther into him.

"Where's Charles?" she suddenly asked and Gryffon laughed.

"That's nice pillow talk," he teased. "He went to go see if he could get us some pheasant for dinner. We thought that some meat after your little swim would do you good."

"My little swim," she repeated, and shivered, though not from cold anymore. "Thank you for saving me," she said gratefully. "Again. I assume that was you who pulled me out." Gryffon simply nodded and she settled back down. He held her close and they lay in silence.

"Am I interruptin' something?" a gruff voice asked from behind them. Gryffon grabbed for a knife that lay next to the bedroll, spinning around in the covers.

He sighed. "Charles."

The man chuckled. "Aye. It is me."

"How went the hunting?"

In answer, Charles held up a large pheasant dangling upside-down from his hand. He nodded at it. "Nice, yes?" He dropped the bird unceremoniously next to the fire pit, and turned his back to them saying, "I'm off to get some more firewood. I'll expect you two lollygaggers to be decent when I get back. I won't be doin' all the work whilst you two wrestle undercover." He headed off without looking back, trudging along into the forest.

Gryffon shook his head and looked at Layna who felt herself blushing. He leaned down and kissed her lightly once more. "You are beautiful you know," he told her. He pulled their clothing off of the sticks he had propped them on to dry, and he handed her hers. She dressed quickly underneath the covers to stay as warm as possible, and then joined Gryffon by the fire where he had picked up the bird that Charles had abandoned and had proceeded to start dressing it out.

"So tell me about what you've been doing," Layna said after a pause.

Gryffon looked up from his messy work and nodded. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Anything," she answered and then she amended, "Anything real."

Gryffon let out a short puff of air. "Um, okay. But you realize that what I'm about to tell you is highly classified information." She raised her eyebrows impatiently at him and he went on. "I'm here as part of an extensive network of spies," he held up a hand to stave off the angry response he must have seen coming from her and went on, "not because we're trying to do anything bad to you, but for our own protection. Our borders are closed to you for good reason, and we're not about to ignorantly stand by and let you repeat history all over again. Remember what we talked about before, about the Dark King?" At Layna's nod he went on. "Well, in our histories you see the enormous amount of lives that were lost or ruined because of one madman's rise to power and influence on your country – well, back then _our_ country. We've been aware of a secret organization which has run rampant in your government since that time and we've been watching for any signs of covert activity that could indicate that they may be preparing to act out against us - Like I said, not because we're interested in taking you over or anything like that, but for our safety. It would be awfully easy to turn your people against ours since we have been separated for so long. And even though it's commonly referred to as the other half of the country that became Treymayne, Gelendan is actually much bigger. Even with our greater talent and more widespread use of it, your sheer mass and population would likely give you the upper hand should it ever come to a dispute. There were rumors that we sent an envoy over and he was brutally rejected, but I am not high enough up in our government to know whether or not that is true. I do know, however, that your current King is acting suspiciously similar to the Dark King and could potentially cause us some real problems."

"How so?" Layna asked, beginning to be more worried now that her initial anger had worn off.

"Well, he has said he wants to put together a lot of programs which could help your country like the research into talents and so forth, but that's also what you do when you're gearing up for war. If you were about to send a bunch of people off to battle wouldn't you want to conveniently gather them all together under the pretense of training them, and then have the added benefit of really training them to your own purposes? Plus there are the reports of ancient magical beasts being resurrected which, if the rumors are true, could mean that he is reinstating the blood rites and using them to create armies of magical beasts."

"I guess I could see how you might think that he's getting ready for a war. I heard similar conclusions by the other nobles at Jezebel's, but I'm not sure I can quite grasp the whole blood-magic part. I know there have been rumors and all, but there are always rumors about something. That doesn't necessarily mean that it's true. Blood-magic has been gone since the fires destroyed the knowledge, hasn't it? And if that's the case, why would your borders still be closed? Hasn't enough time passed? And haven't we stayed away from blood-magic here too? We disapproved of what the Dark King did just as much as you do. So why?" Layna asked curiously.

"Well, look what you did to us," Gryffon said defensively.

"I didn't do anything," countered Layna.

"Alright. So perhaps we have been holding a grudge for too long," admitted Gryffon. "Nevertheless, there are forces at work here that don't care about you or about me, only about power and they'll step on anyone they need to on their way to getting it."

Layna sat in silence and pondered this for a while, absently running the charm around her neck back and forth along its chain. A movement caught her eye, and she saw Gryffon wince as he brushed his arm across his front while he lifted a saddlebag off the branch it was laying on. "Come here," she said in her best commanding voice and Gryffon looked at her, a tiny hint of an amused smile playing on his lips.

He didn't comment on the tone, but simply set the bag down and came over to her. She motioned for him to sit beside her and he obliged, carefully lowering himself onto the log. She reached over before she lost her nerve and unbuttoned his shirt.

Her fingers trembled slightly and she ran a finger down his chest. He watched her, his eyes lowering from hers to her finger as it touched the burned portion. Layna fished in her bag for more healing salve, and though the supply was running low, she dipped her hand in and brought out a generous amount. Gryffon opened his mouth as if to protest that he was fine, but she ignored him and pressed it against the burn. He let out a hissing breath that slowly transformed into a relived sigh as it worked its magic on the wound. Layna whispered her own magic, willing him to heal.

He closed his eyes, enjoying both sensations and Layna allowed her eyes to take in the sight of him. His toned muscles rippled underneath her touch, responding to the healing. Though still covered with now-greenish bruises and slightly disfigured by the horrible wound on his chest, he was a gorgeous man. The most gorgeous man that Layna could imagine and she enjoyed her own little shiver of pleasure at the closeness they had just shared.

Gryffon opened his eyes and gave her an odd look. Layna had the embarrassing thought that perhaps she had put some of that emotion into her healing. She abruptly broke contact, but Gryffon continued to give her that penetrating stare for a moment longer before glancing down at his battered body. Several more of the bruises had speed-healed to a more normal color, and the burn had reduced its swelling substantially, becoming more of a recognizable shape. Recognizable as some sort of shape anyway. Layna had no idea what it was, and had no recollection of having ever seen the symbol before. It was a definitely defined something, grotesquely outlined in blackened flesh in the midst of the red burn around it.

"Some new trick she learned," Gryffon murmured, lifting his finger to prod at it mercilessly. Layna had to raise her own hand to bat away his. His relentless poking could not feel good, and certainly would not be good for the healing process. He caught her hand and held it. "Thanks again for the healing. You probably shouldn't touch the power much more, though. We don't want to call attention to ourselves by influencing it."

Charles came crashing through the woods just then, a wild look on his face. "We have trouble," he told them shortly. He looked at Gryffon. "What is that?" he asked, staring at the mark on Gryffon's chest.

Gryffon looked confused for a second, and then annoyed at Charles' alarming statement and following distraction. "It's a love token from Lady Jezebel," he growled, "and you were saying," he prompted.

Charles gave Gryffon's chest another fearful look, but seemed to realize that whatever trouble he had just announced should take precedence. "We are being followed," he stated, "and not, by any human."
CHAPTER 23

Jonathan inhaled deeply, and wiped the white powder from his nose. He sat back against the chair, looking forlornly at the empty bed. He had tried to use one of the servant girls, but she had put up such an awful fuss, and even threatened to report him to the authorities, so he had given up. It just hadn't been the same anyway. He needed his little plaything back, without her he didn't know what to do with himself. And then there had been that incident with Jezebel.

He knew he shouldn't have gotten so strung out on the Sparkle Dust before seeing her, but he was on a deadline. And he had gone and slipped to her about her number. _Damn the stuff!_ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Maybe she didn't catch it_ , he thought hopefully. The little voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let him off that easily though. _You know she caught on_ , it admonished him, _and now she will be sending her little lap dog Devon off trying to find out what it is_.

Master would be most displeased when he found out about his carelessness. If _he finds out about it_ , Jonathan thought with a sudden revelation. _I should have let the little rat, Devon, die in the first place. Seeing as how he's already hurt, however, perhaps I can arrange to have some more damage occur, seemingly naturally. That way, he can never find any information to report to Jezebel, and she will have nothing more than a meaningless number._

He thought about Devon's injuries and how he might be able to worsen them without raising any suspicion. _The man really shouldn't be back at his old games yet anyway, even if I wasn't thinking of planning something._ Jezebel already had him out running her errands when he wasn't even fully healed. Even she should know that you can't trance-heal a body and expect it to be able to perform the same as before right away. Regardless of her disregard for human life, she still must see that Devon was the key to many of her sources of information. Without him, she would lose much of what she had worked for. _Perhaps I won't have to take any action at all, she may run him into the ground herself._

A knock sounded at the door and Jonathan rose to meet the servant. "Yes?" The man stepped aside to reveal a brunette girl standing behind him who gave him a shy smile. Jonathan ran his eyes up and down the length of her, and took in her slender form. She was quite young, but dressed provocatively, and Jonathan could guess what she was here for.

"Come in," he said, smiling back. His mood lifted considerably. He dismissed the servant with a wave, and the man left them alone. He led her into the bedroom and she looked around in awe.

"Gee whiz," she said cutely, "this is some bedroom you have here." He reached out to fondle her perk little bottom, but she batted his hand away playfully. Jonathan smiled tolerantly, soon she would learn proper manners in front of him, but he would relish teaching her. _Slowly_. First, however, he'd have to find out how she came to be here. Most of the brothels tended to be upset if their girls went missing, it was only by Master's intervention that he had been allowed to keep the last one.

The girl had made her way over to the refreshment cart and looked coyly back over her shoulder at him. "Wine?" she asked. "They say it's an aphrodisiac you know." She giggled and covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

"My dear," he answered, "one hardly needs an aphrodisiac with you here. But yes, please do." She turned her back to him and poured two glasses.

He moved closer, taking in her supple form showing through the lacy fabric of her dress. He pressed against her and she spun away, expertly swinging her arm around to put the wine under his nose while evading his embrace. He raised a hand and took the glass. He was getting quickly tired of her coyness. "Thank you," he said and moved with her over to the couch where she had seated herself.

This one certainly had more spunk, and he hoped he would be able to keep her. There were so many things he could do to her, and it would be so much fun to teach her her proper place. He took a sip of his wine, and she watched him as he swallowed. He licked his lips at her.

She grinned broadly at him again and said, "Your Master wanted me to tell you that he had sent me." Elation shot through Jonathan and his excitement grew. He would have to get rid of Devon right away before the little rat could ruin anything. Jonathan would want to please Master after this little gift. She was certainly different than the last one, but he knew she would be just as satisfying.

Her voice suddenly took on a darker tone as he gulped down the rest of his wine and set down his glass to reach for her. "You must have done something really bad to make this 'Master' of yours so angry. He didn't even want the reward money we offered for the information." The girl's smile had disappeared. "He was almost as creepy as you."

Jonathan paused mid-reach at the sudden change and wondered what she meant. He found, however, that is was suddenly very hard to think straight. His head felt as though it had been filled with water and he swam through, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"You know," the girl was saying, "I was planning on showing you how it felt to be Carolyn instead of doing it this way, but she didn't think that I would be able to."

Jonathan moved his lips trying to speak, but they felt numb and heavy. He could hear his voice slur out, "Who's Carolyn?"

The girl laughed humorlessly at him and shook her head in revolt. "I think I could have, you miserable piece of slime, you didn't even know her name?"

Jonathan's vision blurred as the room spun away from him and understanding finally hit him the same time as his head smashed into the floor and his world disappeared into blackness.
CHAPTER 24

"Then what is it?" Layna asked, her voice breaking.

"Looks like dogs," Charles said with a shrug and noncommittal shake of his head, "but bigger than any dog I've seen, and they ain't no gormless things. They tracked us to the river we just crossed and it looks like there they split up, prolly looking for a way to cross safely. I'd bet my buttons, they're hellhounds."

A sudden eerie baying filled the air, and Layna felt goose bumps tingle into being all over her body. _Hellhounds? No, that can't be right. Hellhounds and blood-beasts are only fairy tales anymore, aren't they?_

"I suggest we leave _now_ ," Charles said urgently, already grabbing their supplies and hastily stuffing them into saddle bags. The horses were stamping the ground nervously, their nostrils flaring as they scented the wind, and their ears twitched with every howl. The sound took on an excited yipping quality, as though they had caught wind of their prey, and Gryffon and Layna both mounted hurriedly. Fly's eyes were starting to show whites as they rolled back in his head in terror, and Axe was stamping the ground, snorting huge columns of steam with every breath.

As soon as they were mounted, they urged the horses to go and the frightened beasts needed no second request. The horses broke into gallops, threatening to unseat Layna as they wound through the forest. Luckily they had been following a somewhat cleared path, and the horses were able to run at full speed without much danger of a fall.

The yipping and howling seemed to echo closer now, and Layna looked back over her shoulder with apprehension. Terror crept into her and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up as the surreal sounds seemed to vibrate her very being. She saw a blur of something large and black, moving in and out of the trees with a speed and grace that seemed unnatural.

A flash of red caught her eye to her left. It was her only warning as a shape hurtled out of the woods, colliding with her body and knocking the wind from her. Layna frantically pushed away the gaping mouth that snapped at her face as she tumbled off Fly's back. She grunted in pain as her side met the hard ground, and she quickly rolled out from underneath the hound.

The beast growled at her menacingly, its sharp yellowing teeth dripping saliva, and it scrambled to its feet before it lunged at her again. She grabbed at a fallen branch and took aim at the creature's open mouth, swinging with all her might to deflect the hungry maw. The branch connected with a tooth and its head snapped sideways. It paused a moment to shake its head clear of pain, and then looked back at her, red eyes boring into her.

The eyes closed and the creature threw back its head and howled. Layna clamped her hands to her ears. If she had thought that the sound was awful from a distance, it was ten times worse coming from the throat of a beast standing directly in front of her. The howl echoed through her, and gave her such a wave of pure unadulterated fear that she found herself unable to move, though her mind screamed at her that she had to, she had to do something before it stopped its howl and came for her again. She fell to her knees in a shuddering lump and could do nothing, paralyzed by the intense horror that filled her inside.

Gryffon and Charles had become aware of the commotion, and had whipped their mounts around to face the foe. Axe charged in, his battle steed instincts taking over, and he smashed the hound in the back of the head, cutting short its agonizing howl with a surprised gurgling grunt.

A sickeningly wet crack sounded as Axe struck again, and the hound let out a whimper as it dropped limply to the ground, blood and gore oozing from a large wound in its skull. A series of bloodied marks on its back glowed bright red for a moment before the light dimmed, and the hellish creature gasped its last labored breath and lay still.

Layna stood glued to the spot, staring at the beast. Gryffon's urgent prodding jerked her back to reality and the realization that there were more of these out there. She remounted Fly as fast as her shaking limbs would carry her, and they spurred the horses forward once more. _Holy Gamoland!_ She swore to herself _, it had runes on its back. Could it be? Bloodrunes?_

They raced on, listening to the howls of the hounds which grew louder behind them and then suddenly stopped. After a few minutes of silence, Charles motioned that they should slow for a moment to let the horses catch their breath.

Layna pulled Fly up to a fast walk and moved closer to Gryffon and Charles. "They prolly just found their friend there," said Charles dispassionately, "and either they've stopped for a skosh of a snack, or are real smart and are stoppin' to see how we killed one of them. The questions we should be askin' now are: How many more are there? How likely is it that they will continue to track us? And most importantly, how the blazes are we gonna to kill the rest of them? We can't just foote here much longer."

"I'd say it's very likely that they'll keep following us," Gryffon put in softly, "those markings on its back," he trailed off, his hand unconsciously lifting to touch the spot on his chest where his own mark was. "Those were no ordinary hounds, someone sent those after us, and I have a suspicious feeling I know who it was."

"Would she really do that? Blood-magic? Can it really be?" Layna sputtered.

"How can you ask that? She's a sick demented individual, look what she did to me." Gryffon shrugged, "I wouldn't put anything past her. Don't you think after everything you've seen that this is just how her twisted little mind would work? I wouldn't doubt for a moment that she'd turn to blood-magic if she had the chance."

Layna gave a reluctant nod. "If anyone were to use it, it would be her I guess. But it's still hard to believe that blood-magic can be being used again."

"What in the world did you two get yourselves mixed up in? That mark on your chest, believe me, it ain't no minor thing. And now these things are after us and you think that she sent them after you? I know she's mendacious and barratry, but she must be crazy too! No sane person turns to blood-magic. No, no, no. You've gotten yerselves into a more serious mess than I think you realize." He grumbled for a moment and then threw up his hands. "And you think I'm crazy with my stories? Just who is this woman?"

"Evil," answered Gryffon shortly before Layna could put in her own opinion.

"Maybe so," Charles nodded, "I've seen my share - and more - of evil in my life and she certainly is shapin' up nice to it. If what you say is true, we'll have to stop and face the beasts. If they are sustained by blood-magic, they ain't gonna stop 'til they find and destroy you if that's what they're up to. We've got no choice but to fight."

"How do we fight that?" Layna asked, her hands still shaking from the close encounter.

"As I said," started Charles slowly, as if every word pained him, "I've seen this type of thing before. The only chance we got is magic. We won't get lucky again like the one lone one that Axe there got. They are much much worse than that little scare there would make it seem. This time round they'll of smartened up and'll work together to distract and take us down. We won't be able to bash all their heads in. I know Mila taught you how to touch the power, just apply it to the situation, I'm sure you can come up with somethin' in that pretty head o' yours. And Gryffon," he turned to the man, "I believe you are familiar with some rudimentary combative magics as well?" Gryffon nodded silently. "Alrighty then, I suggest we find a good place to hidy-hole up in and make our stand. Unless their master is nearby, and most likely she is not, as the type that would resort to blood-magic are also the type to let others do the dirty work for 'em, they won't be able to be recharged, as it were, if you can get past the shieldin' on 'em and drain it or otherwise incapacitate 'em."

They led Fly and Charles' mount a good distance away - the horses' nervousness was still quite evident. Layna had no doubt that they would simply bolt when their foe faced them again. Axe they kept with them due to his battle-steed training, in hopes that he'd be able to get in another lucky kick.

They found an outcropping of rock where they would have a solid wall behind their backs. It was too overgrown on the top to let the hounds move in behind and above them. They arranged themselves in a semi-circle, so that one of them was facing every possible direction that the creatures could come at them from. Gryffon walked Layna through setting up a perimeter, winding their magics throughout each others' like a braided rope. Under Gryffon's instruction Layna was able to prepare herself for the inevitable battle. They didn't have to wait long.

Layna sat holding her breath and straining her ears for the sound of movement in the woods around them. The first thing she noticed was the growing silence. Wind blew through the trees, causing them to creak and groan, but there was no more chattering of squirrels, chirruping of birds, or scurrying around of various small woodland creatures. It was as though suddenly they had all been given a silent command to be still. Layna's sharp ears noticed the difference immediately and her muscles tensed involuntarily. The creatures in the woods knew that something dangerous was lurking, and Layna narrowed her eyes in an effort to see through the dimming light of the forest for signs of where the menace was coming from.

A twig snapped to her left and she whipped her head around, holding both hands in front of her, her fingertips tingling with readiness to seize the power should something emerge. A dark shape flitted through the trees and she followed it with her eyes.

A single hound seemed to materialize out of the darkness and sat just out of reach of Gryffon's bow, which was steadily trained on him. It looked at Layna through slits of glowing red eyes and the creature _hissed_. It was a strange noise to hear coming from the throat of a dog-like creature, but there was no denying that it had indeed come from it as its neck pulsated in a rhythmic pattern as the unnatural sound issued forth.

Layna stared at it mesmerized, her fear forgotten. Charles's urgent whisper woke her from her trance, "Don't let it distract you with its flummery," he said gruffly. "This one is just to keep our attention while the others close in. Start the spell Gryffon told you about and keep your eyes peeled for the rest."

Layna nodded pointlessly as the three of them had their eyes glued to the landscape and she turned her attention towards the power. She gathered it in her hands more to gather herself in readiness than because it actually needed to coalesce there before it could be utilized. Her arms nearly buzzed with the magic pouring through them and Layna carefully sent out a snake-like tendril towards the beast. It split as it advanced, forming a web of searching fingers into the darkness while the main flow moved towards the beast.

The hound eyed this unfamiliar anomaly warily, the hissing growing louder as the light shed its warm glow onto it. Layna could see out of the corner of her eye that Gryffon had similar tendrils of different shades wandering out as well. She noticed absently that hers seemed larger and more formed than the ones that he sent. Her concentration snapped back to the problem at hand, however, as her light touched the beast and he recoiled from it. _He. It's a he._

Once her spell made contact, she sent out another burst of energy to bind the creature in place. He froze as the ball of light moved down the tendril and into his body. He slowly turned his head with effort to look at her, and the red eyes bore into her. She struggled to hold her grip on him and slowly, ever so slowly, she gained the upper hand. He was forced to the ground, one paw lifting and moving outwards in jerky motions, followed by the other, until it was lying calmly on the ground.

As she felt her control solidify over the beast she sent out a new probe. Through this probe she saw his heart beating, pumping bright red blood through his organs, his lungs gulping in huge breaths of air, panting in the effort of resisting her. She felt as though if she applied pressure, _here_ , these functions would stop. It was more than Gryffon had described. He had said that she should be able to feel the energy flowing in and sustaining it, not feel its very life-force. She continued her questing until her gaze rested on the beast's back.

Burned into the flesh and straight down into the core of the being were runes, like the one on Gryffon's chest, blood red. Layna could practically feel the pain that had shaped them. She felt a surge of pity for the poor creature, pity which quickly turned to rage at the woman who would inflict such pain on any living thing. She made up her mind to undo what the real beast had done.

Carefully tempering her anger so that it did not rub off on her actions, she reached out to gather more power onto herself, silently impressed that she was able to do so with no problem, and shaped this raw energy into a healing globe of water which she gently used to wash away the runes from the beast's back. The creature shuddered, unable to move more than this small gesture while under her bindings, and the red eyes closed. When they opened several moments later, they glowed their red hue one final time, and dimmed into a deep black.

At that same moment, two more of the hounds burst forth from the undergrowth and simultaneously burst into flame as Gryffon's tendrils found them and destroyed their shields, arrows following a split second later to finish them off.

"No!" cried Layna but it was too late. Her distraction caused her to lose her control over the hound she had been holding and it leaped to its feet to disappear into the trees. Charles and Gryffon started after it, but paused in confusion at her unexpected outburst. She ran to the body of the nearest slain beast and fell to her knees beside it, weeping at the loss. Gryffon and Charles exchanged a confused look and Layna choked back more tears, "It wasn't their fault," she tried to explain to them, "I saw it inside them, they are not evil, only controlled by one who is."

Charles grew silent and stared off into the woods after the hound. Gryffon, however, was not as sympathetic. "How can you say that when one just almost killed you?"

"Because I was there inside it, it didn't want to hurt us anymore than we wanted it to," she answered. "I felt it." She shrugged, and raised her hands in a gesture of futility. She didn't know how to properly explain to him what had just occurred, and the bond that she had shared with the creature. He still wore the odd look, but did not push the issue.

Charles broke the awkward silence. "I'm going after it," he said decisively. He cut off Gryffon's protest. "Plus, this way we can keep an eye on it and make sure that it doesn't decide to kill us anyway. I've never heard of anyone bein' able to change a hellbeast before. Avonmora is less than a day's ride from here, you won't miss it and don't need me. My place is in the woods anyway." With that, he moved off to collect his belongings and follow after the freed creature.

"How did you change it?" Gryffon asked her quietly once he was gone.

"I don't know, I sent the tendril like you said, and then I could just see it."

"And you've never been taught anything other than what Mila and I have been able to show you in the last few weeks?"

Layna shook her head mutely.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Gryffon mirrored Charles' earlier question.

*

Jezebel fought hard not to jump in her seat as a wave of energy suddenly flowed into her. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, ordering her suddenly tense muscles to relax. She opened her eyes again, and glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed her brief interruption in concentration. No one seemed to be paying her any attention at the moment, the Council members were all currently squabbling over a proposal by the King to increase taxes and, of course, no one could agree what type of tax it should be. She already had a perfect plan which she would present to the King personally later, proving to him that she was the smartest and most capable of the group - so she had little interest in their inferior ideas. Hers really was quite an ingenious plan too, the idea had just hit her the other day whilst she had been reading another of her father's boring letters.

She listened to their chatter for a moment, to be sure that they were properly engrossed in the subject at hand, and then turned her attention inward. _The energy had to have come from somewhere, but where?_ She wracked her brain for possibilities when suddenly it dawned on her. _That was a life-force from one of the hounds_ , she thought, unable to stop the sharp intake of breath. Death had ended the spell and the energies had been returned to her. _What an interesting prospect_. However, that particular line of thought was cut short when she realized that if one of them were killed, it meant that they had most likely caught up with their prey. Jezebel again had to fight to sit still in her seat, this time twitching with excitement. Perhaps the hounds had found them. Even if they had gotten the better of one of the hounds, it was no big loss, and was certainly worth it if the rest of the pack had indeed found what they were after. Jezebel concentrated and tried to follow the line of energy back to its source, but as with a ripple through water, it was losing its form and becoming too distorted for her to track. She could tell that it came from outside the city though, and to the south. It was a shame that she could not scry the two renegades, but every attempt she had made to do so had been thwarted. It had frustrated her so badly that she had thrown the bowl she had been using in her attempt across the room where it had shattered into hundreds of little pieces. She suppressed a sigh at the memory; _it was one of my mother's too_.

When the meeting was over, she immediately rang for Devon, just in case his network had heard anything. She was not disappointed.

"I have indeed received reports today, my lady, that could be the ones we're looking for. A hunting party came across a campground two days ago and the party was the only one from anywhere nearby that were out, so they figure it must be travelers passing through. The villagers then reported that they heard the howling of dogs that night, unlike any they had heard before. This of course fueled the rumors of the dark beasts returning and the village could gossip about little else afterwards." He smiled grimly at her. "Funny how the common folk grasp at these things and run with them. Perhaps it makes their pathetic little lives seem more interesting and more worth living."

Jezebel shrugged and moved down the hallway, impatient to get back to her suite. "Hmm. Come, walk with me. Anything else?"

He fell into step besides her. "Nothing for sure, my lady, but I have the operatives moving in on the travelers so that they can give us a confirmed kill once your little pets catch up to them."

"Good," she said curtly. She was somewhat disappointed that there was no real news yet, but at least she would get a detailed account of what happened when it did. The other Council members were still in debate over what to do about the traitors, and in their usual unorganized style, had come to no conclusion yet.

Every meeting that Jezebel attended made her more and more certain that something would have to be changed with the current order of things. _Namely, this whole Council business will have to go and I should be the sole ruler_. _Having to have six people deciding on something and then having the King have the final say just isn't going to work for me. First of all, the six members can hardly agree on what type of tea service to have with the meeting, much less what taxes to implement. It will be so much easier when it is just me making these decisions_.

She suddenly gasped, and fell up against the wall. She held out a hand to it to steady herself as first one wave of energy and then another hit her hard, knocking her off balance. Devon stepped forward quickly and raised a hand towards her, but she waved off the unspoken offer, taking a deep breath. _They killed two more of the hounds!_ She took a few more steadying breaths, and ordered Devon to fetch her some wine while she took a seat in her suite, which she had luckily just reached. She relaxed her mind and concentrated hard, searching for the final hound, trying to get some glimpse of the fate of the others through it. Frustratingly, the answer remained just out of reach. At least one was still alive, though, and Jezebel kept a thin hope that perhaps this one would succeed in its mission.
CHAPTER 25

Layna and Gryffon rode into the city of Avonmora with trepidation. The guards nodded to them as they passed, but gave no indication that they were watching for anyone, and Layna relaxed somewhat. The two made their way through the streets undisturbed. Apparently, either the news of their actions back home had not yet reached here, or as they had assumed, it was too large a city with such constant traffic that it was simply impossible to ask the guards to watch for two specific people. They rode to a tavern that Gryffon knew, and bartered with the inn-keep for rooms. Once they had established their rates, they stashed their belongings in the rooms, and Gryffon and Layna claimed an unoccupied booth in the corner of the tavern.

A bawdy redheaded girl came over and asked if they wanted a drink, with a no-nonsense attitude born of years of dealing with drunken louts. They each ordered a round of the house ale and settled back to regroup. Gryffon told her that there was a place here that was a drop - a place where he could leave a message to be picked up by his countrymen.

"What kind of message are we going to send them?" she asked him.

He leaned back, letting the waitress set their drinks in front of them, and then nodding his thanks. He waited for her to saunter out of hearing range before answering. "I'll have to let my handlers know that my previous position was compromised, and they'll no longer be getting the reports they were used to. I'll have to let them know about the hellhounds too. I think our encounter pretty well proves that blood-magic is being used again, don't you?"

Layna nodded soberly.

"If Jezebel has gotten her hands on the knowledge to create them, it leaves little doubt that the knowledge has been unearthed, and is available to be used to recreate the beasts of old. Unfortunately, now we'll have to rely on information that we can pick up from the streets," he paused again looking at her sheepishly. "That is, of course, if you'll be alright with my continued work and want to help with it."

Layna nodded. "From what you've said, it sounds like the people you've been watching need to be stopped, whether by your country or mine. They're just plain evil, so yes. I didn't want to believe it about the blood-magic, but I don't think I can pretend like it doesn't exist anymore after seeing it firsthand. I'll help however I can to stop it from spreading any farther."

Gryffon smiled. "Good." They sat drinking their ale and listening to the chattering around them for a while. They made some small talk, but their hesitant speech betrayed their discomfort. Layna felt more nervous than when she had first found out she had talent and had spent the first week looking over her shoulder expecting there to be a priest behind her. She laughed at herself. It seemed like forever ago that she had been a simple maid. How much had happened in such a short time. Even using magic seemed to be something she had been doing for years rather than the reality of a matter of weeks.

Gryffon looked around the tavern and said, "We'll have to come back here tonight and pick a good spot to sit and listen. Places full of drinking people tend to find them loose-lipped and bragging, so we might learn something useful." He waved the waitress over then, and asked if he might have a mug of milk.

"It'll cost ya extra," she told him, and he nodded his understanding. Layna looked askance at him and he held up a hand, motioning that he'd tell her soon enough. The maid came back with the milk and Gryffon thanked her, rising from the table and nodding his head towards the stairs for Layna to follow. They made their way back to the room and shut the door.

"Alright," Layna said, "you got me. What's the milk for?" Gryffon muttered a word and the air around him shimmered for a second. "And what was that," Layna added.

"That," Gryffon answered, "was a shield so that no one can overhear or look in to see what we're doing. And the milk," he said, setting it on the desk next to a parchment, "is for the note." He picked up a quill and dipped it into the milk, scrawling out a message. Layna watched dubiously as the liquid was absorbed into the paper and it disappeared. Gryffon finished writing and held it up, revealing a damp, but blank-looking parchment. "See?"

"Okay," Layna said, "and how does that help us?"

Gryffon grinned. "When it dries it's invisible, but if you hold it up to firelight," he held it over by the fire, and the light behind it revealed the note he had just written, "you can see what was written. Not all that complicated, but since no one but me and the person picking it up should know that there is a message here, most people would just see an empty piece of parchment and not look at it further."

"That's useful," Layna said, but then asked, "Why not just use magic?"

"Ah-hah," said Gryffon, "a question I myself have asked. And the answer was twofold: One, that not everyone can use magic to the same extent; and two, that magic itself can be traced. Whereas this piece of parchment right now is nothing more complicated than paper and milk, were I to enchant it only to become visible when a certain word was uttered, say, it would suddenly radiate power to anyone else who happened to have a talent greater than my own." He guessed her next question and answered it before she asked, "because you can 'hide' your work with magic, but those with more talent than you can always break through those barriers and see what you did, so unless I was the most powerful out there, which I am not, it would be like a beacon to anyone with more talent than me that this piece of paper was no ordinary blank sheet."

"Huh," said Layna, impressed.

"There are a lot of different ways that you can hide messages, either by encoding the message itself so that unless you know how to decipher it, it will mean nothing. Or, like this paper, concealing the very fact that there is a message at all. A lot of my work consisted of trying to break codes or read messages that I intercepted and then recoding them to send home."

They made their way out into the busy streets and made a tour around the city. They took a round-about route to the drop point, both to see what they could find out and for the purpose of being less conspicuous, just in case.

The weather was somewhat warmer here than back at the capital and a breeze blew through the city that smelled strangely salty to Layna. When she commented on it, Gryffon told her that it was because Avonmora was a port city; its southern side was the sea coast. The whole section was encompassed by wharfs where trade ran to other places, even Treymayne, though very limited and only by way of certain merchants. This was why he would be able to get a message through more easily here since routes of communication were possible, whereas along most of the border they were not.

They meandered around an isolated wharf, where Layna was impressed by the sight of the sea. "It goes on forever!" she exclaimed to Gryffon.

He laughed, amused by her appreciation. "Well, not forever. But it is a relatively large body of water. You ever been fishing?"

Layna shook her head negatively.

"I love to fish," Gryffon said. "Back home, I grew up on the edge of the Great River that feeds into the sea." He nodded towards the water indicating that it was the same. "We used to fish all the time. It was the livelihood of a lot of people there."

"This is the first time I've ever been anywhere other than my family's home out west and the capital" she confessed.

Gryffon quickly glanced around and almost imperceptibly drew the note out of his pocket and dropped it into a barrel. "Really," he said to her, making no outward sign that he had just made the drop. "You've never been anywhere?"

Layna thought back as far as she could remember. "Maybe when I was little, but nowhere exciting, and certainly not that I remember well."

Gryffon turned down the corners of his mouth. "Hmph. Well, enjoy the wonderful sights," he said with a grin, pointing around to the abandoned docks.

Layna pursed her lips at him, trying not to smile. "Well, it actually is quite beautiful if you look out over all of the barrels and dead fish."

Gryffon laughed and went over to a post and picked at a nail. It came loose and he let it stick out, moving on along the docks. Layna gave the nail a glance, but didn't comment, making a mental note to ask him about it later. She was intrigued by the secrecy of his movements, and wondered if perhaps he wasn't just a bit over-paranoid as no one should even know they were here. She knew first hand, however, that depending on who found out they had some pretty harsh punishments if you were caught. She didn't know what the official punishment for espionage was, but she shuddered to think of what Jezebel would do if ever she got her hands on them again. There certainly was a lot more to life than she previously known, and it was nerve-wracking how close Layna had been to such vile events without even having been aware of them.

They wandered back to more populated streets and wound in and out of the people, making quiet conversation with one another, but mostly just listening to the talk around them. Gryffon had advised her to try and listen to people's conversation without overtly turning her attention to them to gather information. She caught bits and pieces of people's lives, mostly babble that meant nothing to her out of context, and she felt herself wishing that she could follow some of these people and see what a day in their life would be like. As they came around a bend, she heard a portion of a sentence that caught her interest, and Gryffon gave her a slight nod that he had heard it as well. They made their way over to look at the goods on a cart that was fortuitously close to the speaker.

"Why would they attack us now? We've done nothing to them," a woman was saying to another.

"Why not?" asked the second, shrugging. "Maybe they've gotten greedy and want our land." The ladies walked farther away and Layna started to follow but Gryffon waved her over instead to what must have prompted the conversation. A poster was hung on the side of a cart which implied, without actually saying it, that Treymayne might look at Gelendan as a way to increase their living space. It also pointed out that behind their closed borders they could easily prepare for war without anyone here being the wiser. Without comment they moved on and Gryffon led the way back to their rooms.

"That's an interesting new development," he commented. "The new King is wasting no time in spreading propaganda."

Layna shrugged. "Might Treymayne actually think of it that way, or consider attacking us?"

Gryffon looked ready to argue with her, but changed his mind. "I don't know for sure I guess," he admitted, "But I don't see our government as ready to try and take over yours, if for no other reason than you are still a much bigger country and no doubt you would squash our attempt, especially if even a select few are dabbling in the blood-magic."

"You've been cut off from us a long time. That could make it very easy for a lot of people to build resentment towards you if given these types of implications as their only source of information about you. After all, we don't all have our own personal Gryffon convincing us that you Treymaynians aren't big bad wolves hiding behind your borders that for all we know you've been expanding north."

Gryffon looked serious despite her attempt at humor. "No doubt," he said soberly, "it could really be a problem if that's what they're gearing towards."

Layna was thoughtful for a moment. "What was the reason for the nail you pulled out at the wharfs?" she asked. "If it had any significance."

"Indeed it did. Good eye," Gryffon answered and went on to explain. "It's the indicator for the person I'm sending the message to that there is a message available to be picked up. That way he's not checking it all the time when there's nothing there and drawing more attention to the spot than is necessary."

"Ah," said Layna, her curiosity satisfied. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait."
CHAPTER 26

Jezebel spent the morning playing with the remainder of her hellhounds, delighting in the aura of fear it caused in the servants at her country hide-away. One of them, at the beginning of her little venture, had made the mistake of commenting on them. He had found himself as live bait as she taught the pack to hunt. She found it most amusing now, the way the servants acted as if there was nothing unusual going on here. They even refused to look at the hounds as they brought down the meat to feed them; instead they just placed the food in the dishes as if simply disposing of it.

The book had recommended that she retrace the beasts' runes once a week. Although she had at first thought that this task would be tedious and unnecessary, she found that she enjoyed it, and sometimes did it even more often than really called for. The ones she had sent after Gryffon and the slut, of course, had to have a crash course. It almost made her sad now to think about how much power had been lost because of the speed of the training. _Ah well, it can't be helped now. Hopefully the last one is already on its way back with evidence of having just killed the slut and dragging along behind it that useless traitor._

She climbed into the carriage and barked orders for the driver to bring her to her suite at the palace. She had a luncheon with her father that she wanted to get over with quickly. He had politely offered her his expertise on the current political situation, and she had found herself unable to turn him down gracefully. However, she was not looking forward to this little interview and hoped that he wouldn't stay long.

The King had requested a private meeting with her later, as the appointed speaker for the Council, which she wanted to have time to prepare for. She needed to speak with Devon beforehand in order to be ready to impress him with her knowledge, and be armed with anything she could to use to manipulate him. Jezebel already planned to demand answers from the King, ready with the defense that as his Councilors they must know what his intimate plans were so that they could best advise him. She also planned to get to know more about him, to assess his weaknesses and determine whether or not she could sway him towards her goals or if he may need more prodding. She had also done a little more research into the ancient arts from the book she had been given and had found a little trick she meant to try on him to use the power to influence him. _And spending time in the presence of such a perfect specimen of a man won't be a trial of patience either._

When she arrived back at the suite, she was piqued to learn that her father was already there, and was currently taking tea in her conference area. She made her way back to her bedroom first, however, and applied a fresh coat of make-up before strolling into the room.

"I love the new decorating, Councilor" he commented as she entered, without prelude but with her proper title which pleased her, "I never was one for pampering up a room myself, and have to make do with boring old walls."

Jezebel glanced around, and smiled at his compliment. "Why thank you. Now, what can I do for you?"

He turned his attention back to her, swiveling around on the couch so he was facing her once more. "Ah, but the question really is, what can I do for you? After all, I am here to guide you, both as your father and as a more experienced politician. Is there anything you'd like to ask me questions about? You seem as though you are already quite well informed on most subjects, so really I feel as though I am here more as a formality. But even so, if I can help you with anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

She found it annoying that he had found it necessary to offer her assistance with her new position. It should be obvious to anyone with half a brain that she was more than prepared to take over the job, but since he was here anyway, she may as well see what she could get out of him. Oddly, she felt her anger disappearing as he talked. "Alright," she conceded, "Is it true that we're going to war with Treymayne?"

He gave her a quizzical look, as if assessing how much she already knew, before he answered. "The Council had been pushing the former King towards this end, yes, though in light of the change in leadership, the time frame has been pushed back considerably. That, of course, will be your job to feel out the new King and see what can be done to speed along the process. Some preparations have already been made with the attitudes of the general populace, which you can view in my report here," he placed a large folder that had been sitting on the couch next to him up onto the desk. She looked at it, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it best for the well-being of the country to have our new Councilors informed. So, unlike some of my peers who guard their knowledge with their lives, I am sharing with you everything that I learned so that you can make a better decision. Use it well."

She asked him a few other questions, but mostly got answers indicating that many of the issues had more details that she would find contained in the report. They both concluded that perhaps they should end the meeting for now, giving Jezebel a chance to review the report, and then have another meeting where he could explain anything that wasn't making sense to her. She originally had been livid over the idea of her father having anything to do with her as a Councilor, but she had found it melting away as she talked to him. He actually had some very good ideas that she would have to make into her own, and then bring to the King as if they were hers to begin with. The visit had pacified her earlier frustration at him, and Jezebel now saw that her father would indeed be a real asset.

Jezebel showed her father out and glanced hungrily at the report, eager to open it and delve into its contents. The clock showed that the time was approaching for her audience with the King, however, and she still wanted to speak to Devon first. With regret, she locked the package in the desk drawer and called for Devon, drilling him on everything he had found out thus far. It turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, except that apparently Jonathan was connected to several powerful men. Devon conjectured could mean that he was actually much higher in the Order than they originally had thought. This was news that Jezebel did not relish hearing.

Jezebel found herself discouraged as she made her way through the winding passageways of the palace to the King's audience chamber. She gave her name and position to the guard who stood at the door, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he had been briefed on her new station and was already familiar with her by sight. He told her that the King would take his audience with her shortly, if she would care to have a seat. The seats in the waiting area were plush and comfortable, and she took one with finesse, her skirts billowing out around her.

Only a few moments passed before the guard informed her that the King was now ready. Absently she wondered how he had been advised of his readiness, as she had seen no messenger. She stood to make her way into the hall and the guard opened the door and announced her. She curtsied to the King, who sat on the throne placed above her on the dais. He motioned for her to enter and take a seat by the chair which sat to his right, and she moved forward, doing her best to move flowingly and gracefully. She lifted her skirts out away from her so that she could sit beside him, and gave him another bow with her head. He sat staring at her, his piercing eyes seeming to cut through to her soul. She fought back a shudder, in awe of his beauty despite herself. "My Liege," she greeted him, waiting for him to start the conversation in a polite gesture of subservience.

He studied her for a long moment before starting in his strange tone. "So you are my speaker of the Council," he stated. Jezebel nodded, holding her tongue as no question had actually been posed to her yet. "And what kind of plans does my new Council have to use me as a puppet for?" he asked shrewdly.

Jezebel was not about to be caught off-guard and answered, "Only those plans which we believe will benefit both you and us and the country as a whole, Your Excellency, and certainly not to use you to meet these ends, but simply plan to share with you our vast combined knowledge in hopes that we may sway you to our cause." She reached for the power tentatively, but withdrew the touch almost immediately as she felt him instinctively do the same. She was speechless at the amount he was able to command.

He gave her a warning glance and said, "Do not play games with me, woman. I am the King here and will do all that is necessary to protect that position. I will tolerate no disobedience from you, or anyone else, and will treat anyone committing treason against me to the highest possible punishment. I am well aware of the Council's attempts to bind the King to their bidding, and have no intention of letting them control me in such a way. Do we understand one another?" Jezebel chose not to disabuse him of the notion that she was working with the rest of the Council, and simply nodded submissively, allowing the King to assume that his threats had taken hold, and would keep her from trying to use him. After all, you didn't need someone's awareness or permission to use them to your ends, and in this case Jezebel wisely decided that telling him how wrong he was would not do her any good.

His next words floored her, however, and she lost all interest in controlling him for the moment. "You know," he started languidly, "speaking of bindings, your father has quite a grip on you." He paused, giving her a hard look as she stared at him dumbly. "His smell is all over you," he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "He has you so wound in control spells that soon you won't be able to spit without him giving you permission."

He waved a hand at her, and she felt as though something snapped inside her head. A horrible anger washed over her; as if her subconscious had known what was being done to her, but could do nothing, and now freed, it could vent its rage. She gripped the edge of her chair until her knuckles turned white, and could feel the power building within her, threatening to break free.

"Calm yourself," the King commanded and immediately her rage disappeared, leaving her in a tranquil state, and she intertwined her fingers in her lap, looking up at the King and patiently awaiting his next words. He looked down at her and smiled. "That's better. Now let's have a little chat. Obviously you've just discovered that your father decided that rather than go the traditional method of deception and blackmail to control one of the Council members to his own use, that he'd just take you over, violating the bonds of blood that you share. Someone must have prepared a spell for him with your blood as your father is not strong enough by himself to have done such a thing, and no doubt you have been receiving enchanted letters and documents regularly to strengthen his hold. Hmm?" He loosened his grip on her emotions, allowing her to take control once more, and she fought down the anger of that betrayal while struggling for control.

She threw up hasty shielding so that no one could take her over again. "Who does he think he is?" she snarled angrily, her wrath at her father making her overlook the King's own brief control. She loosened her fingers, which were gripping her palms so hard that the nails were starting to draw blood.

"Well," the King answered, much to Jezebel's annoyance taking pleasure in her ordeal, "he soon will find out that taking over control of one of MY Council members, especially one with which I have taken a personal interest in, is not a smart move on his part. The intrigues of the court cannot be helped, but magical subversion is not above punishment." Jezebel felt anger being replaced by morbid pleasure at his words, and she smiled evilly at him to continue. "You see, my dear, I have heard quite a lot about you through a mutual friend of ours, and I find that you have sparked my interest. Unfortunately, that friend had a rather poisonous habit that seems to have caught up with him. That puts me in the position of dealing with you myself, which after much consideration, I believe will be beneficial to both of us."

Jezebel sat further up in her chair, she had come to this meeting in the hopes of controlling him herself, but after witnessing his power she knew that this would not be possible \- at least not through magical means. But the idea of working intimately with the King, and the possibilities that such a partnership could lead to was acceptable, and she wondered what had caught his eye. It would require a bit more subtle handling on her part to keep him under the illusion that he continued to be the one in charge once she properly established herself, but the challenge excited her. "Who was this friend?" she asked curiously, her mind whirling with possibilities of someone it could have been.

He looked at her and smiled. "Why Jonathan, of course, hadn't you guessed?"

Jezebel closed her mouth, which had dropped open of its own accord, and she choked out, "Jonathan? I'd hardly consider that little worm a friend-" she cut herself short, suddenly realizing the significance of this and remembering Devon's earlier words about Jonathan's position within the Order. "Does that mean you are the one he called, 'Master'?" she whispered incredulously.

The King simply smiled at her. _Well_ , she thought to herself, _this puts a whole new spin on things now doesn't it_. A smile slowly spread over her lips as well, mirroring that of the King.
CHAPTER 27

Gryffon had drafted a message this morning, using a more elaborate method of coding this time. He explained that this was because while the last message both was hopefully unknown as a message and nonsensical babble to anyone but those already aware of what was going on, this new message would have to convey information that would be readable by any who intercepted it.

Therefore, he had gotten out what he called his cipher from a hollow coin for the newest letter. Layna had gasped in delight at the ingenuity of the hiding spot. Such a normal, everyday object, no one would think that you would carry something so valuable out in the open like that. But at the same time, coins themselves were valuable so you would have a perfectly good reason for carrying them close to you.

In his message, Gryffon reported the rumors that were floating around regarding war with Treymayne, and relayed a more detailed description of the disturbing fact that they could personally attest to the truth of the blood-magic being used. Gryffon had also asked Layna if she would be comfortable with him requesting information about the mark, without actually admitting to his handlers that he had come across someone with one. She had tentatively agreed, and together they had come up with wording that was acceptable to both of them.

She curiously drilled him on several subjects involving the secret coding, and was rewarded with information that she found fascinating. She was also pleased that he shared the information with her so readily now. He told her about coding methods that used innocuous-seeming documents as cover text to distract a reader from the real message within, scribes who could write so perfectly that the spacing between their letters or the boldness of their ink could display huge amounts of information only useful to the other end who knew the key to reading it, and many other ingenious methods.

He admitted that some codes could be broken by analysis. Every language, he had told her, had certain letters that were more likely to appear next to each other or in greater frequency than others, and these patterns could be identified and used to break the code. There was also the simple fact that like with most things, human influence tends to cause even an unbreakable code to be breakable because of people using things that were important to them, like loved one's initials, for keys and ciphers rather than being totally random in their choice. All in all, though, Layna was sufficiently impressed by the intricacy of Gryffon's art, and was once again left in astonishment at another layer of life that she had previously been so completely unaware of. She found herself wondering if she had ever come across such a message, ignorant of its true meaning, and caught herself more than once taking a second look at people on the street, wondering if perhaps they weren't what they seemed.

It had taken several days for the two messages to get a reply, but one had finally come. They carefully snuck it out of hiding and back to their room. The message itself was uninformative, but they were happy to have found that they had been sent a small amount of money, which was fortunate as they were about to overextend their stay. Gryffon had the message translated in short order and he had read it to her. "Copy new position, Black Fish, Usual Time, Weather."

Layna had been baffled by this seemingly nonsensical phrasing, but Gryffon had explained to her that his handlers would not have wanted to send highly classified information through written word – which always had the potential for being intercepted and deciphered. Instead, they sent out a code which was unique to him in order to arrange a meeting in person to exchange the delicate information.

Gryffon lead the way to an isolated tavern on the wharfs, where they took a seat at the table at the back, and waited for the contact to make the first move. This tavern was code named Black Fish, hence the reference in the message. The last word in the code being 'weather', Layna was told would be the word that the two would use to recognize one another. After a few minutes a drunken man stumbled over to them and Layna watched with disgust as he tripped and fell in front of their table, grunting as he did. He pulled himself up onto the bench next to Gryffon and moaned. He slurred, "Hey man, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, would you do me a favor and walk me outside?"

Layna's ears perked up at the word 'weather' and she wondered if this was the informant. Her thought was confirmed as Gryffon stood and helped the man to his feet. "Hey thanks, man," the drunk once again mumbled.

Gryffon responded, "The fresh air will do you some good, it's beautiful weather out tonight." The man grunted in reply.

They made their way out with Gryffon supporting the wavering man and Layna following behind. Once they were outside, the man glanced back at Layna, his suddenly clear eyes full of suspicion.

Gryffon said, "She's with me," and the man nodded slightly.

"Over this way," he said, losing the slur, but still leaning against Gryffon in case there were any hidden eyes upon them. They made their way to an abandoned building, and the man separated himself from Gryffon, abandoning his feigned drunkenness altogether as he pushed aside a board. He waved them inside and quickly followed behind them, dropping the board back into place.

He murmured something that sounded to Layna like what Gryffon had used to shield their room the other day, and then turned to them. "They're disappointed that you lost your cover, agent, your former target has moved into a position that could have proven most useful, especially with your disturbing confirmation of blood-magic returning. However, several contacts admitted to have been being followed, so it was determined that it was no fault of yours, but simply that the quarry was too watchful and much more dangerous than we had originally anticipated." Gryffon shifted his weight and exchanged a knowing look with Layna as the man continued. "The situation has heightened; we believe that the forces behind the new King Nathair are indeed preparing for war as they were previously, though the plans seem to have stalled due to the death of King Edward and the resulting chaos that ensued during his replacement. We've been able to find out very little about the man, Nathair, who did assume the throne, so if you hear anything of value regarding this new King, please inform us as it could be essential to our ability to counter him. In addition to your report of the blood-beasts, we now have confirmed reports that the dark arts, that is to say, blood-magic, has been resurrected in other outlets as well, and we are suspicious that it may already be manifesting in more ways than creating magical beasts."

Gryffon whistled.

"It's become a big tangled mess that we are snarled in, I'm afraid," said the man, nodding soberly. "As to your request for information about the symbol, I'm afraid I have little to offer you. I've been authorized to inform you that the symbol is a sign of the Dark King, though how it relates to him exactly is unclear. The most information that we have been able to gather about it has come from the Shadowlands, a town renamed as such since being the Dark King's capital. It is also where his hidden fortress is said to lie, and reports indicate that the symbol is quite prevalent there. It is believed that this fortress was eventually made into the Dark King's tomb when the Bloodguard reburied him, and that within its walls they buried the secrets of his power. No one who has ever tried to gather more information has ever been able to circumvent its formidable barriers, however, so its mysteries remain secret." He handed Gryffon a parchment. "Further instructions are enclosed, but for the moment your assignment is to stay put and watch and listen."

With that, the man slipped out the back, and Gryffon and Layna were left to digest this news. "What do you think?" Gryffon asked Layna.

"I think," she began, "that as far as the war and the blood-magic, he really didn't tell us anything we didn't know, but rather confirmed our fears." She paused and Gryffon simply waited for her to continue. "I'd really like to know why I have a symbol of the Dark King on my neck though," she whispered softly, fear slipping into her voice despite her attempts to cover it.

Gryffon gave her a sympathetic look and bit his lip thoughtfully. "Maybe we should show you a little more of your countryside."

"What do you mean?" Layna asked.

"I mean that perhaps we should travel to this Shadowlands and see for ourselves why you are marred with such an evil mark when you are so obviously nothing like the King it supposedly represents."

Layna was glad for the dim light to cover her mix of emotions at his words, and she pressed him, "What about your orders? They were to stay here."

Gryffon shrugged. "It's not as though I'm vital to their operations here. They basically just told me that I'm now useless because I lost my cover, so they'll hardly miss me. Besides," he said, his tone growing affectionate as he put a hand on her shoulder, "you are way more important. If what you need is to find answers about yourself, then we'll go to where we can find them."

Layna reached her hand up to cover his on her shoulder and she gave it a quick squeeze. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Plus," he added seriously, "I'm sure it won't be long before Jezebel sends someone after us again, it will be good to be on the move."

They decided that they may as well set out sooner rather than later, so they gathered up their belongings and settled their debt with the inn-keep the very next morning. They walked Axe and Fly through the crowded streets and made idle conversation about the city itself, and what Gryffon knew about the Shadowlands and the neighboring town of Dunlop.

At the guard station, they were asked to please come inside for a routine check. They were told that it was standard procedure for a random check to be done every so often on the people in and out of the city, and they were the lucky travelers. Layna broke into a cold sweat as they were led towards the small building.

Inside, they were asked to state the nature of their business in the city and a few other questions. Layna sat nervously, silently fidgeting. She allowed Gryffon to answer the questions as he seemed as comfortable being grilled by the guards as if he was talking with his own mother about the weather.

The guard on-duty must have been nearing his end of shift as he was starting to speak in a monotone and kept glancing at the door as if at any moment his replacement might come walking in. Gryffon answered one of the questions, and the guard nodded, "uh-huh, uh-huh," scribbling in handwriting that Layna wondered if even he could decipher later. He seemed to perk up somewhat when Gryffon started asking him about hunting, and they even exchanged a laugh which brightened the man's mood.

He finally stood and reached out a hand to shake Gryffon's, saying that if they were ever back in town that he should look him up and he'd bring Gryffon to all the good hunting spots.

A young man stepped through the door just then, and the guard greeted him gruffly. "About time there, laddy," he admonished.

The young man looked to be just old enough to have joined the army, and was trying vainly to grow a beard, presumably to add to his respectability by looking older, but it only served to make him look asymmetrical and unkempt as it grew in odd patches rather than a complete coverage. The man straightened haughtily at the older guard's demeanor, and he stuck his rather large and pointy nose in the air. "I am here at the exact time I'm supposed to be here," he informed the man in a pinched voice. He raised the papers he had in his hand. "And furthermore, I have just come from the general's office and been informed of a pair of renegade spies that we need to be on the look-out for." The older man gave him a bored look and the small man narrowed his eyes as if unsure what to do with him.

His gaze wandered to Gryffon and Layna as they tried to inconspicuously make their way to the door. Layna felt as though the sweat at the mention of the 'two renegades' had to be evident on the back of her tunic, and would surely give her away. The younger guard's gaze lingered on them, and then he glanced back at the paper he was holding. His brows creased and he raised his eyes to them once more. He opened his mouth to speak.

Gryffon cut him off before he could say anything. "Well, it was a pleasure talking with you, my good sir. I most certainly will take you up on your very generous offer next time we are in town. But for now, we'll take our leave of you as it seems you are just about on your way out as well." He gave a quick little bow and then put a hand under Layna's elbow, leading her out.

As they hurried away, they could hear the younger guard telling the older one that they looked an awfully lot like the people they were supposed to be watching for, but the older one scoffed at him. "I just spent the last ten minutes talking to him. He's no spy, and she's too pretty to be. Besides, it's the end of my shift..."

Layna and Gryffon didn't wait around for them to finish their discussion, but rather high-tailed it out of the city as fast as they could as soon as they were out of range of the guard station. "That was close," Gryffon stated as he reined Axe closer to her when they slowed upon reaching the woods with no sign of pursuit.

"Tell me about it," Layna said, "I thought I was going to start dripping sweat I was so worried. Good thing you hit it off with everyone you meet - or least all the hunters," she teased him and he laughed.

"What can I say? I can spot a hunter a mile away, and we hunters understand each other." He winked at her. She breathed a sigh of relief, letting out the tension that had been waiting to be released.
CHAPTER 28

A knock sounded at the door, and Jezebel called out permission for the person to enter. Devon slipped through the entrance, wincing slightly as his side bumped up against the door frame, and she greeted him with a smile. "Ah, Devon. Do you come bearing news?"

"Indeed, my lady – Councilor-" he affirmed. "I have news about the King."

Jezebel sat forward excitedly. "Yes?"

"Well, it was very difficult to dig up anything on his past, and so far it doesn't seem to be anything particularly worthwhile. I figured that you'd want to know everything you could about him, no matter how small the detail seems to me. With your intellect you may see more into it." Jezebel smiled more broadly at this compliment, and nodded for him to go on. "Apparently, the King was raised by the late Baron Asheron who was the second cousin twice removed of our late King Edward. The Baron was instrumental in bringing Edward's parents' murderers to justice which gained him a large amount of support within the royal family. Nathair's mother is a woman of low enough birth that I could find no record of her before the marriage, who somehow found herself into the baron's household, and then made herself his wife after his lady died. That, I suppose," he inserted, "could make some men embarrassed enough to not want the information leaked, but since she was given honorary lady's status by the baron, then again it may not. He grew up in the backwoods and was taught several ways of fighting. When he showed some skill at magic, he was sent to be trained in the rudimentary uses. There is no record of him having attended any of the additional classes that are offered. His mother died when he was in his teens – the Baron seemed to have some bad luck with women – and as he grew older, he joined his father's guard and that is where he gained his name in the battlefield, fighting off the bandits to the west. All in all, he has a pretty clean record of what we've been able to uncover so far, though there are quite large portions of his life that I have been unable to account for. I shall continue my work as ever, and report back to you accordingly, my lady. As for the mission your pets are on, my men found the remains of three of the hounds, confirming your impression, but have had no word on the last and no further sign of the renegades." He gave her a stiff bow and waited for her to dismiss him.

Jezebel nodded slowly, chewing on this new information for a moment. "Thank you, Devon. I trust that the remains were properly disposed of?" Devon gave her a nod and she continued, "Please do see if you can't try and reconstruct the rest of the King's life for me. Excellent work thus far, and I look forward to your report that the final hound has returned victoriously."

She dismissed him with a wave, and he departed, leaving her to fetch her driver to take her to the palace. She thought it odd that the King had only been trained in the rudimentary uses of magic when he had demonstrated far more power than that statement would imply. It sounded as though his family had not had the money to send him to the optional additional training. _But if they didn't, then how did he master its use? For he obviously has._ She made a mental note that the King may be hiding more than they realized if he so modestly presented his powers that were, in reality, much more dangerous than he made them seem. She almost immediately admonished herself, however, as of course the King was an expert in subversion. He had, after all, maneuvered himself into a position of great power both in the Order and in the kingdom. A position which Jezebel planned to soon take from him as her own.

Back in her suite at the palace, Jezebel was surprised to see a letter with her father's seal waiting for her. She picked it up and glared at it for a moment before sliding a nail through the wax, and unfolding the contents. It was a lengthy letter, one that got her more and more inflamed the more she read of it.

He started off pleasant enough, congratulating her once more on her new position. But then went on to berate the seat, saying that she would be foolish to believe that having a seat on the Council would give her any real power. It implied that there was much more going on here than she could possibly hope to even understand. _Basically it says I'm too stupid to follow the intrigues going on, and therefore I should just do whatever he tells me to in the notes that I'll soon be receiving regularly and by referencing the files he gave me_.

She ripped the note into a thousand tiny pieces and tossed it into the air, igniting it mid-fall with the power. It gave her a small tug and she felt momentarily weak after doing so. She felt a flash of annoyance. She had been surprised to learn that oftentimes the use of smaller amounts of the power was actually more draining when used for things that required detail. So, for example, lighting each torn piece could potentially be more draining than, say, a huge fireball hurled out, which took pure power but very little focus on detail. _How can Father still think that he can control me? Can't he tell that his bond over me has been broken?_

She had thought that once she gained the seat that he would see just how powerful she was, but not only had he not lost that smug smile of superiority, but he had even had the gall to try and use her with magic. Jezebel found it displeasing that there was an aspect of blood-magic that could be used against her without her knowledge simply because she and her father shared ties of kinship.

Jezebel snorted her irritation and shook herself, trying to brush off the effect of the letter. The King had said that he would be punished; she simply must be patient and see what he had in mind. She walked to the window and looked out over the maze of gardens beneath her balcony. It wasn't long before she returned to her desk, however, to write to Devon. Patience was not her strong suit, and she decided that perhaps she'd set Devon to the task of arranging a little something for her father in the meantime as well.

She opened the door to have one of the servants go and fetch Devon from the manor for her, and found that he was already on his way towards her, coming down the hallway looking excited. She held the door to the suite open for him and he squeezed by. "I have news of the renegades," he told her without preamble as soon as the door was safely closed.

"What is it?"

"A guardsman in Avonmora filled out a complaint against a superior officer for letting two people go who matched the description that we had sent out. It sounds like the older man was due to be off-duty and dismissed the younger officer's assertion that they should detain the couple longer." Jezebel's eyes flashed with anger at the use of the word 'couple', and Devon seemed to sense her mood change as he did not pause to give her a chance to act upon it. "They very well could be the two traitors we are looking for. It is very near the town where the travelers were spotted being followed by the hounds."

Jezebel took a deep breath. "That would mean, however, that the hound has thus far failed." She had thought as much. After the initial backlash of power, no amount of questing would allow her to connect with the last beast. She should have felt something by now if it had caught up to them, either its death or its victory. "How dare that officer ignore a direct order to detain and question all matching the description, just so he wouldn't have to deal with it." She sighed irritably. "The whole world is against me. Do we have any idea where they are headed?"

"Happily yes," Devon acknowledged. "A young man happened to be paying them attention as he found the woman very-" he stopped himself short from using whatever word he had originally planned on and put in instead, "-odd, and he happened to hear them talking about the town called Dunlop."

Jezebel pursed her lips and thought a moment. "Dunlop? What an absurd name. Where is this town?"

"It is in the North Country, Councilor. It is both the town nearest the Shadowlands, and near where the King is from."

"I will have to think about this," she told Devon. "In the meantime, I believe I need to set up a meeting with the other Councilors. Can you arrange that for me?"

"Anything for you, my lady," he said bowing, and he showed himself out.

This meeting, Jezebel found herself seated and waiting before any of the other Council members arrived. They slowly filed in and took their seats, and several of them gave her looks she couldn't quite place. The last to arrive clarified it for her, however, as he presumptuously rose to speak before her saying, "Lady Jezebel, we are scheduled to have a meeting in three days time, and some of us," he stressed these words as if trying to brazenly imply that she was not included in this group, "have more important things to do than be called to another of these so-called emergency meetings for yet one more of your trivial matters that really should just wait until we are scheduled to convene."

Jezebel refused to be derailed, and took his ignorant patronizing in stride. The opinions of lesser people meant nothing to her, and he was about to get a swift kick in his pride anyway. She gave him an amicable smile and said silver-toned, "I just thought that you all would want to know right away that I spoke with the King directly, and he has expressed his wish that I be the speaker for this Council. He is also further elevating my status by giving it a new title of 'First Advisor'. This makes all of you under my direct command and me only answerable to the King himself."

The man had sat heavily in his seat and all the Councilors were staring at her, some with completely undignified slack-jawed expressions. "But," one sputtered out, "you can't do that! The whole point of the Council is to keep the balance in check!" The man's voice cracked as it rose hysterically in pitch.

She laughed churlishly at him and beamed. "The King can do anything he wants. And now, so can I. And what I want you all to do right now is gather your personal guard and select the most talented of the bunch to send after the two renegades. It is imperative that they be punished for their betrayal and that an example be made of them for others who would think to betray their country."

"Others who might betray the country or betray you," asked the man who had first spoken.

"Examples will have to be made," she repeated and gave him a hateful stare until he paled and looked away uncomfortably. She dismissed them after giving more detailed orders of what she wanted done, and then took a deep breath, admiring her surroundings. Things were going quite nicely her way.
CHAPTER 29

Layna muttered the word she had just memorized and reached for the power gently, gasping in delight as a tiny globe of water appeared before her. Though the word itself didn't make or break the spell, it helped to focus the energy properly. Gryffon was doing his best to continue her training, despite the risk of detection. They decided that having her be able to use it at this point would outweigh the cost of possibly sending out ripples in the power to those who might be following them. He was going through the basic elements, and then branching out to show her how to use these elements in different ways. Although he told her that after her display with the hounds, he wasn't sure he was really qualified to be teaching her anything. He was significantly impressed by the power she managed to handle without difficulty, but warned her and sometimes even more importantly than the actual amount of power, was the ingenuity of the power-wielder. Oftentimes you could achieve the same results by a more precise application of power rather than simply using raw energy to try and accomplish a feat.

Layna spoke again and the water crystallized before smashing to the ground beneath her in a spattering of ice. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

Gryffon rebuked her. "Remember to account for the differences in weight, density, and such when changing the characteristics."

Layna brushed her hair away from her face and bit back a nasty comment. He was only trying to help. Gryffon reached a hand up and held her hair away from her neck, inspecting the place she knew she had a mark. Layna looked at him curiously. "Yes?"

Gryffon scrunched up his forehead, and leaned closer to her. "That mark on your neck, it's growing darker. It's definitely much more pronounced than it was at first."

Layna looked worriedly at him. "You don't think it means anything bad do you?"

Gryffon shrugged noncommittally. "I honestly don't know what it is, but if it does have to do with the Dark King, maybe it's growing darker simply because we are getting closer to his ancient lair."

"That's not very comforting," Layna told him with a meek smile, but didn't comment further. "How's your own mark doing?" she asked him.

He shrugged again. "Still hurts, but I'll live." He returned her smile with one of his own, and the two of them sat contemplating their dual scars.

A figure suddenly came bounding out of the woods and sprinted towards Layna. Gryffon jumped to draw his knife, but paused when a familiar voice called out, "Hold!"

Charles came running out after the figure, which was now skipping excitedly around Layna, trying to lick her face while she pushed it off, laughing. It was the hound she had freed from its compulsion, and it looked as though freedom agreed with it. It still had a rather unearthly quality about it, but now it reminded Layna more of a dog than something she would term a beast.

Gryffon was still eyeing the hound warily, but Charles came up beside them and assured him, "I'd been tracking 'im for a while when suddenly he just stopped runnin' and turned to face me. He just sat right there while I walked up to it with my knife drawn and all and waited to see what I'd do. He let me pet him on the head, and since then he's acted just like a dog. He can even play fetch, and I've been hunting with him. He learns very quickly."

Gryffon lowered his weapon cautiously as Layna sat on her haunches to better scratch the hound which had rolled over so that she could reach its belly. Its tongue lolled out its open mouth, and even the razor sharp teeth seemed less intimidating in the goofy pose it was in to get a better rub-down. "It seems that whatever you did, my lady, you cured him from his evil," Charles said respectfully to Layna, giving her a small nod.

Layna surveyed him curiously, Charles had called her many things, but never 'my lady' and she wondered at the change. They filled Charles in on what they had found out in Avonmora, and he agreed to accompany them towards Dunlop, though declining to go into the town with them. He had no desire to visit such an evil place, he told them.

"You two are becomin' awfully popular you know," he told them seriously. He described the wanted posters he had seen in different towns, and the several big brawny men asking questions about them.

"I guess we'll be taking game trails, and not getting to stop at any inns," Gryffon said regretfully.

"Maybe you shouldn' go into any towns at all," said Charles, "not even Dunlop. Your demon lady seems to have a monomania over the two o' youse. I know a place up north we could go and you'd be safe. Your demon lady would never find you there, and you could finally get away from her miasma."

"No," Gryffon disagreed, "we need to go to Dunlop, and then afterwards we'll figure out what to do next. Thank you for the offer though."

Charles just nodded his acceptance of the thanks and didn't press the matter, to Layna's relief. She wasn't sure that her resolve to go all the way to Dunlop would hold, knowing that Jezebel had everyone under the sun after them, if someone tried to persuade her otherwise. _Jezebel must be doing some serious crying to her father to get the funding for such an undertaking_.

After a moment Charles put in, "Well, if you're dead set on it anyway, at least do somethin' 'bout your looks. What with all the wanted posters galore with your likenesses plastered all over. Them burlies are getting' all corybantic over you people."

When the two men went out hunting, Layna gathered together some of the herbs for spicing the meat that in the spring weather were starting to poke out through last year's dead grass. She then set to work finding a berry that Mila had once mentioned to her in passing. Layna marveled at her memory of such a seemingly insignificant piece of information, but was glad that she did remember it.

She set the herbs for dinner next to the cooking pot and took a second bowl that they had been using for holding the water to wash dishes and she proceeded to mash up the berries that she had found into it.

She added a bit of water and a few pinches of other ingredients, and took the bowl over next to the stream that they had camped by. Very carefully she spread the goop out onto her hair, running her fingers through the strands to make sure it evenly covered her whole head, and then washed her hands in the water. She let it set on her hair for some time before dipping her head backwards into the frigid water to wash away the paste. The cold water bit at her scalp and she shivered as it splashed onto her, but she held fast to wash away every last drop. When it was clean, she shook her hair to get rid of as much water as possible, so that it would dry faster, and bundled her clothes around her, jogging back to sit by the fire.

When the two men returned, Gryffon stopped short in his conversation and tilted his head at her. "I could have sworn you used to be blond," he told her.

She giggled. "Well, I didn't want to cut it, and I remembered Mila telling me how certain ink recipes could be changed to use in your hair. I guess a lot of noble women do it to cover their gray. I thought it would be a good disguise."

"It certainly is different," he said. He set down the rabbit he had caught and looked her over.

"I think I prefer blond over brunette, but you're right, you certainly don't look so much like you anymore. Now we'll just have to think of something for me."

"Too bad you can't grow a beard in a few days," Layna said smiling.

Gryffon looked thoughtful. "Maybe I could. I could use a spell to speed growth. I would imagine that once I stop the speed growing the magic would fade and all that will be left is a suddenly much longer beard. If we could just reapply the principles of healing, it seems much the same."

They spent the rest of the evening working on Gryffon's beard, and they added a few finishing touches to both of them. In the end, even Charles gave a nod of approval that while they wouldn't fool anyone who knew them, they no longer resembled the pictures that were circulating the countryside.

Despite these disguises, they still stuck to the game trails for their travel, only once stopping into a town to buy supplies. They had seen evidence of the posters plastered everywhere, and as they had bartered for grain they had seen a man, obviously one of the ones that Charles had warned them about, lurking the streets in search of them. His eyes had run them up and down, and Layna had held her breath in trepidation, waiting for a glint of recognition, but the gaze had quickly swept past them. Jezebel was certainly intent upon finding them. Layna fervently hoped that Gryffon's countrymen would be able to do something about the evil that was plainly spreading across her country.

Weylyn, as she had named the hound, padded along happily with them, surprising them by keeping up with the horses' pace without even becoming winded. Layna found Weylyn's company to be enjoyable, and both he and Charles were invaluable in following the trails. Charles himself seemed to give her more respect now than he had previously, and though she enjoyed it, she found it strangely unnerving as well, as though he suddenly thought of her as a whole other person. She couldn't help but wonder what had made him think that she was one suddenly deserving of respect.
CHAPTER 30

Jezebel paused as she heard a snippet of a conversation ahead of her.

"Have you heard about the back alley killings?" said a voice from around the corner.

"No," answered a second, "what are they?"

"Well, apparently there's some crazy killer on the loose that keeps taking vagabonds and other scum, and they disappear never to be seen again. People would hardly notice except that you can suddenly walk around the streets at night without having to step over a drunken lout laying in the gutter."

"And they haven't found any bodies?"

"Not a one," the voice said soberly, "makes you wonder what he's doing to them..."

"You know what else I've heard," a third voice joined in. "I've heard that there are hordes of magical beasts being created and banded together to form armies that they're going to start marching across the countryside and start killing everyone in their path."

"Why would they do that in their own country?" asked one of the first. "That seems pretty pointless."

"Well, not if you're one of the lords who own the land, and you want your neighbor's lot as well."

"I think it's because of the war with Treymayne," said another which produced a snort from the first.

"There is no war with Treymayne, where have you been?"

"Well," the man backtracked, "there will be soon. Haven't you seen all the signs that they're preparing for an invasion? They want our land!"

"I dunno about that, but my wife's uncle swears that he saw a wolf in the woods that was not natural. He says it was three times as big as a normal wolf would be and twice as fast. It was stalking him in the dark, and had him scared half to death. He can deal with a normal wolf, but he said this one was smart, tracking him all along even when he tried to lose it and backtrack around behind it. He swears it would have taken him out if he hadn't run into another hunting party and traveled with them back to town. He only caught glimpses of the thing, but swears it had bright red eyes, glowing in the dark watching him."

"Why would something have glowing eyes? That just makes no sense."

"I don't know," the voice was irritated now, "but they're magical creations, who knows what's in the heads of those crazy magic types."

Jezebel listened to this conversation with amusement. It was a group of peasants speaking to her driver, who luckily for him was keeping quiet about the whole thing. Their talk moved on to more mundane matters and Jezebel grew bored with it, so she stepped out from around the corner where she had chosen to stand when she first heard the conversation.

Her driver jumped at her sudden appearance, but managed to keep himself together enough to open the door for her. She gave him a sly little smile letting him know that she had heard the conversation and he paled.

"To the country manor," she told him, and she noted with even greater amusement that he realized the irony of this. _Because, of course, that is where I keep my own pack of magical beasts._

This business about there being one in the woods worried her, however. As far as she knew, she was the only one with hellhounds. And as far as she had been informed, they were all accounted for. Other than the four that had been sent after the renegades, of course, but those should not have been running around the woods here chasing after hunters. She may need to speak with the man she had put in charge of the pack, and make sure he was not keeping anything from her in order to try and save his own hide after an unfortunate mistake. _Or else_ _t_ _he hounds may be getting a treat tonight_.

They arrived at the manor shortly before sundown, and Jezebel treated herself to a stroll into the paddock where the hounds were kept. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to be able to walk amidst the raving beasts and have them quiver at her feet. They knew her as the one that caused them pain, but who also gave them life, and in a heartbeat she could take it away. They were only animals, but to them she was a god, and she reveled in that fact. She moved among them, watching their behavior. She gave one who had the audacity to meet her eyes and not move out of her way fast enough a sharp kick in the ribs. It yelped in pain, and scampered out from beneath her. She glared around at them. She was tempted to retrace the runes, but she didn't really have time. She had a whole volume of accounts still to sort through, and she intended to go over it in detail.

She liked to play with numbers, move a number here, conveniently erase one there, and voila! You could come up with a whole new conclusion. The stipend that she had been receiving for being on the Council was quite a bit more substantial than the measly amount she was able to weasel out of her father. But she was sure that if she just raised taxes a bit for the peasants who didn't know how to use money anyway, she could make herself quite a bit more.

She moved through the beasts, carefully inspecting each one and then motioned to her overseer that he should come to the edge of the fence. He came timidly over and bowed to her, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the ground in front of him. "Yes, my lady?"

"I think perhaps we should change their diet a bit, a few are looking a bit too lean. Let's try to increase the fat intake shall we?" The man nodded to her and she smiled.

She really was God to these creatures, she chose when they ate, what they ate, where they could go, and really everything about their lives, and still they groveled before her. _Such a wonderful feeling, and it will be so much more satisfying when I have the country at my feet as well_. She exited the paddock, carefully closing the lock behind her, and she went to go search out the man in charge of the pack.

She found him knee-deep in deer as he dressed out part of tonight's dinner for the hounds. "I heard some interesting rumors today," she commented to the man, who looked up, startled at her voice.

"My lady," he greeted her and waited for her to continue.

"I heard," she said, "that there may be a hellhound on the loose. Might it be one of our little pack?"

The man was visibly taken aback, and there was a quiver in his voice as he answered. "No, no, my lady. I have kept perfect track of them, and can give you my word that none have escaped here, other than the ones that you requested be sent to your other manor."

Jezebel watched him closely, weighing the chances of his honesty before deciding that he seemed sincere. "Alright," she said finally, and the man relaxed. "But I want extra precautions in place to ensure that none do, understand?" The man nodded emphatically and Jezebel left him to his bloody work of preparing their dinner.

She made her way into the house, and she was in the midst of wading through a particularly dense section of the financial overview when one of the servants knocked softly at the door and informed her that she had a caller. Upon inquiry, she found that it was her father.

She carefully put on a controlled expression for him as she walked to the door, though underneath the fake smile she was seething. She was angry that he would presume to come and check on her here, as she had no doubt was his plan – no matter what excuse he gave her. She hated the need to keep quiet about knowing of his control until such time as he could be brought to task for it and didn't care to come up with a lie about what she was doing out here.

When he entered, he admirably gave her no excuses. As she greeted him, asking what the occasion was for his visit he answered bluntly, "I'm here checking up on you. I've heard some unsettling rumors that I hope you will put to rest."

"Why, whatever type of rumors?" she asked innocently, careful not to let her annoyance show. _The servants better have had the wits to cover the evidence of the hellhounds here_.

"I heard that you are acting in league with the King to upset the balance of power in the government."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered, relieved that it was not about the hellhounds, "the balance of power is exactly as it should be." He looked sternly at her, obvious annoyance on his face at her reluctance to share her actions with him and she said grudgingly, "Just because the King has seen fit to make me his First Advisor, a position that I so rightly ought to have, I would think you'd be happy that your daughter is doing so well for herself."

Her father sat solemnly for a moment. "Be advised that I will not be able to get you out of this situation should it go awry. Upsetting the delicate balance of power is a dangerous thing to do, one that is likely to make you many powerful enemies. You can't just do as you please all the time. Do not underestimate the influence of those behind the scenes, who will not approve of your disruption to their plans. Eventually all your machinations will catch up to you and you will run out of luck. The real power in this country is outside of sight and things are going on that you can't possibly hope to comprehend. Thinking that you're important simply because you were given a title is just foolish. I don't know how I could have raised you to have turned out this way."

Jezebel was at a loss for words, and was silent for a moment before answering icily, "Well, shame on you then. I know far more than you think I do, Father, and that title that you so belittle is one that is directly bestowed upon me by the King so no matter what your feelings on it are I suggest you show a little respect before you find yourself in some trouble. And don't think you can control me with magic, Father, because it won't work anymore. I have it on the King's own authority that you will be coming to justice for the injustice you did to me. Maybe that's really why you're having this little temper tantrum; because you've finally realized that I've outgrown you and you can't use me like one of your little puppets anymore." Jezebel knew she was rattling on, but couldn't help it.

Her father gave her a long look before standing, and Jezebel felt a probe against her newly fortified shielding. His face paled a bit as he realized that his previously unbreakable bonds had indeed been broken and were now scattered in the wind. She mentally berated herself for her weakness in revealing this fact to him before she had meant to, but his reaction pleased her nonetheless.

"Well, there is obviously nothing more to say on this matter," he said dumbly, obviously shaken by this revelation and probably by her threat of the King's punishment as well. "But be forewarned that you are getting yourself in over your head." He left her then, and she found it difficult to focus properly on her financials after being so worked up by the conversation. She took another stroll through the pens instead, happy to see that the servants had indeed covered the evidence, before she headed back to her regular manor for the night.
CHAPTER 31

Layna and Gryffon rode into Dunlop just as the sun was hitting its peak in the sky. Charles had opted to camp outside the settlement, saying that he preferred the great outdoors in addition to his earlier statement of staying away from the evil of the place. Weylyn seemed to agree with this sentiment. He had kept pace with them for some time, but as the smoke from the chimneys came into view, he vanished into the wilderness.

The golden rays of afternoon sunshine beat down on the city, and Layna could see that at one point it must have been quite a sight during the Dark King's era. Massive buildings towered over the countryside around it, and up on a hill in the distance an even larger ruin sat – the remnants of the Dark King's castle in the Shadowlands. The fortress now lay in shambles, with no one wanting to set foot in the dreaded place. It lay crumbling, prone to the ravages of time with no one to care for it. It was a shame that such an incredible artifice of history should be so left to the mercy of the elements. _But then again, who wants to set foot in a place that had literally been built with blood?_ It stood on the outskirts of town, casting its shadow over the land. It was an eerie presence, a stoic reminder of its dark past. The town itself was in similar state, though much better cared for.

After the Dark King's overthrow, Dunlop had found itself an abandoned city save for the few loyal locals who refused to leave their land no matter the blood that had been spilled upon it. A new capital had been named in Naoham, leaving the Shadowlands so renamed as a reminder to its past. Dunlop had eventually regained some of its former glory and several of the buildings had been refurbished to their original splendor. Most buildings save for the Dark Fortress itself had been gone through and either left for ruin or had been at least half-heartedly redone.

The inn that they came to was one of the nicer buildings; the walls had been neatly replaced where they had been crumbling. The only evidence of this having been done was the slightly different coloration in a few areas, and it looked like new wood and windows had been put in. The sign had been scratched out and redone to display the new name of "The Phoenix", which Layna thought was rather fitting given the rebirth of the town.

Gryffon had explained to her on the way that Dunlop in its prime had been a flourishing city. Though technically the capital had been Cheston, the city where the Shadowlands now occupied, Dunlop was close enough that it had benefited from the old capital's wealth – which the Dark King had made even more lavish by spending exorbitant amounts of money to make impressive.

So far they hadn't yet seen any wanted posters, but they still kept their eyes peeled for militia men who may be looking for them. It seemed as though they had once again beaten the word here. Their new disguises gave Layna some piece of mind as well. If there was someone lurking in the shadows looking for them, at least they'd see a dark-haired woman and her bearded companion instead of the blond girl and clean-shaven man they were sent to look for.

They made their way inside the inn, and went through the bartering routine with the inn-keep for their rooms. Once they had settled themselves in, they made their way down to the common room. There, they struck up conversations in hopes that they would find someone willing to talk to them about the fortress and the rumored secret tomb. Gryffon had told her that the castle that they could see up on the hill was the old palace where the Dark King had held court during his reign. While this seemed bad enough to Layna, apparently there was another, secret fortress somewhere hidden underground nearby where a lot of the nastier events had taken place. This secret locale was also rumored to be the Dark King's final resting place after the Bloodguard moved his remains.

They had no luck the first few days, as the people in town seemed wary of them. They got quite a few nasty looks and criticizing comments at their guise as treasure-seekers. On the third day, an older man came into the tavern shortly after them. He slowly shuffled to the bar next to them, picking his way deliberately across the floor. He pulled himself up onto the stool with difficultly, but waved away Gryffon's offer of help.

"Thanks, laddy, but if I can't pull myself up onto the stool then I shouldn't be in here anymore, and the draw of the ale is just too much for me to deny." He gave them a one-toothed grin and called out to the barmaid that he would have the usual.

Gryffon started up some small talk with the man, even buying him a drink, and slowly led the conversation around to the ruins. "What do you know about the ruins up there?" Gryffon asked, "We've heard that there's treasure there."

"Don't you go looking for treasure there, boy, the only treasure you'll find is the kind that will poison your lives. That's if you even made it in and out in one piece. There have been plenty who've tried, oh yes. I've seen your kind before, all young and on top of the world, thinking that nothing can hurt them. Despite all the other people who have tried and failed, they think their ideas are going to get them in. But you listen closely, ain't nobody gonna get into those tombs, they were sealed up good and tight they were, and made sure that no one'd ever set foot inside alive again. They say the Dark King is buried there and his spirit haunts the hallways. No, no, no just stay away from there. Nothing but bad news, and I like you." The man gave Gryffon a friendly jab in the shoulder. Unfortunately, it was with the hand that held his mug of ale, and he splashed it all over Gryffon, who smothered a laugh. The old man didn't seem to notice. "There's weird stuff that went on up there for sure. Lots of strange markings on the walls, old runes if you ask me. Bloodrunes. You don't want anything to do with blood-magic do you?" he asked, suddenly suspicious, and he peered at them through increasingly unfocused eyes.

Layna fought hard not to raise a hand to cover her neck, knowing that the movement would be conspicuous. She was conscious of the possibility that her own mark might look just like one of those old runes, and she waited for Gryffon to reply. "We don't approve of blood-magic," he answered sternly and went on, fishing for more information. "I heard that the actual entrance to the tomb is outside of the main fortress ruins anyway," he said casually while Layna tried to make her hand relax in her lap and ignore the urge to touch her neck. Unfortunately, the chain to the charm that hung around her neck was now rubbing just on the place where the mark was, and it was making Layna want to itch it like mad.

"That's what the stories say," the man said.

"Just what are the stories?" Gryffon prompted.

The man seemed to have imbibed enough alcohol that he was in a talkative mood, and he indulged Gryffon. "The stories say that the great hulking castle out there isn't where the real action took place. They say that there was another, hidden location that the Dark King saved for the really important stuff. Ask me, the castle itself is bad enough. I went there once." The man shuddered visibly. "They say there's another one though, and it's said to be in the hills of the Shadowlands somewhere. There are even those who claim to have seen his followers even now, coming and going from the hidden tomb in great big black cloaks."

"Where in the hills?" Gryffon asked, leaning forward in his seat excitedly.

"Hmph," was the old man's grunted reply. He showed no further indication that he had any information as to the whereabouts of this hidden entrance, and every indication that he was losing interest in Gryffon in favor of his mug of ale.

Gryffon and the man exchanged a few other pleasantries before it became obvious that the older gentleman was far too intoxicated to think straight, much less speak in coherent sentences. Layna found it impossible to ignore the itching sensation and focus on their conversation, and she finally settled on removing the offending necklace. She quickly ducked out of it and placed it in her pocket as the man took a large gulp.

Gryffon eventually excused the two of them, and they weaved through the growing bar crowd and out into the night, wandering the streets. "It's pretty amazing how affected the town still is by the Dark King's presence, even after all this time," Layna commented.

"For sure," agreed Gryffon. "The aura of fear is still here, almost thick enough to touch. If you watch, the people still glance up at the castle with trepidation as they walk under its shadow. Perhaps we should take a trip up there and see what we can find out."

"What, in the middle of the night?" Layna asked him as if he were crazy.

"That way people won't ask questions why we're going there, and we might find out something useful," he said reasonably. He waited for her reply, and added when she wasn't forthcoming with it, "Plus, we can both conjure mage lights, so seeing will be no problem."

"It's not seeing that I'm worried about," muttered Layna, but reluctantly agreed. As much as it frightened her, it nagged at her curiosity as well. _Besides, after Jezebel and her blood-beasts, what could they possibly come up against in an abandoned building that would be worse?_

They sneaked through the shadows to the edge of town and mounted Axe and Fly. It was a fairly quick ride to where the massive castle stood, its gigantic form tainted with evil so pronounced that Layna could feel it leaching out of its stones without even touching the power.

They left the horses tied outside, and carefully circumvented the gate that had been half-heartedly constructed to keep people away. They stepped lightly across the drawbridge, which creaked with age under their feet. The portcullis was halfway down, and they ducked underneath it quickly. Layna had the awful sensation that it might come crashing down on her at any second, spearing her with its ghastly sharp spikes.

Layna glanced up at the murder holes in the ceiling as they passed underneath them, and saw with horror that though they were now plugged with age-old grime, tar still stained the edges. Evidence that at one time they really had been used. She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the other side and were under the fresh air and stars once more.

They jogged across the massive courtyard, and their feet made soft pattering sounds as they climbed the stairs towards the main entrance to the castle. Layna could see where the weather had taken its toll on the stones here as well. They were crumbling around the edges, and a few of the statues that had once stood proudly guarding the door, had toppled over and cracked or shattered. Moss and lichen covered every surface, vines snaked up the sides of the walls, and a tree had even pushed its way through the cobblestone. The gigantic wooden door was peeling and the ironwork was rusted.

It was still impressive.

Gryffon pushed open the door with surprising ease, and they carefully stepped over the threshold. Inside, the evidence of looters was predominant; there was not a single piece of gold trim, furnishings, or anything else of value to be seen. The room seemed mammoth, its vast empty space seeming to extend for miles. Their footsteps echoed alarmingly loud, and the moonlight shone in with soft radiance through the once beautiful windows. Gryffon whistled, impressed, and this sound too reverberated off the walls with eerie clarity. A tangy, brackish stench filled the air. Torn skeletal flags, once displayed proudly along the high ceiling, now dangled mournfully, blowing ever so slightly in the wind coming through broken stained glass.

They picked their way through the mess of rotting and broken furniture, glass shards, and vegetation that had been blown in or had started to grow up through the stone floor. It made it uneven in spots, and they had to watch their footing as they came to stand before the dais. Many years ago, in this very spot, the Dark King had once sat to lord over his kingdom. Layna gave another involuntary shudder as she moved closer, and it came into plain view.

The throne was a daunting sight. It was made out of bones, somehow melded into the stone framework of the seat, arranged in a morbidly artistic pattern. Two human skulls had been placed at the end of each armrest; their teeth were filed down to pointed fangs, and it looked as though the eye sockets had once held something before being pried roughly out.

"Talk about intimidating your audiences," Gryffon commented, unsettled.

Layna nodded emphatically, her eyes wide. They moved off from the disturbing sight, and chose a hallway off to the left. It looked to be a main corridor that might lead them to somewhere useful.

"What is it exactly that we're looking for?" Layna whispered to Gryffon.

He answered at a regular volume. "Anything, I'm thinking we should check the library, even though there's unlikely to be anything left, and then see if we can't find our way down into the dungeons. That seems to be where the most," he paused, "-interesting- things seemed to have happened."

Layna let out a barely audible moan. She had been afraid he'd say something like that. As they left the audience hall, the moonlight dimmed, and Gryffon and Layna both whispered the words to enchant mage lights. Two little balls floated out in front of them, illuminating the hallway with their muted glow.

The state of the rest of the castle mirrored that of the audience hall. Upturned furniture not worth looting making obstacles in their path, and dust and spider webs clung to them as they passed. Layna's imagination ran rampant, and she kept swearing that she saw things lurking in the rooms. She had to keep reminding herself that, with the exception of rats or other animals who had claimed the castle as their home, she and Gryffon were the only living things here. A prickle of unease tickled at her senses.

They eventually found the library and were disappointed that, as Gryffon had predicted, there was nothing left. There was a huge charred pile in the center of the room that, the rocks surrounding them discolored and cracked. It looked to be the remains of one of the book burnings, as though the people had simply knocked all the books off their shelves and burned them right there in the library - with no regard or care for whether they were books about blood-magic or not. Layna could hardly blame them after seeing the throne; she didn't think she'd dare touch anything that that man had owned either. The pile was starting to grow its own vegetation of sorts, making it look like a tiny mountain in the middle of the room.

As the old man had said, the walls were littered with markings, but none looked to Layna to be authentic. She got the impression that most of them were from people more recently, simply proving their presence. No doubt many of the local kids used the place as their own haunted mansion, not recognizing the gravity of the events that had really happened here. In amongst the nonsense symbols were several painted red signs. "Nat was here," and the like. Layna shook her head.

It took them some time to finally find the doorway leading to the dungeons, and as their mage lights floated down into the dark abyss, Layna felt a sense of dread. The horrible atrocities that must have gone on down here were unthinkable. The almost unreal feel of the upper portion, scrawled with the graffiti of looters and kids, disappeared as they descended. Layna wasn't here to scratch her name on the stone wall to prove her bravery to the local group of kids. She was somehow mixed up in the history of the place, and she felt as though they were getting closer to answers. Answers she wasn't sure she really wanted to know anymore.

They reached the bottom of the staircase, and a sudden realization hit her like a slap in the face. She stopped dead in her tracks. _I've been here before._
CHAPTER 32

"I know where she is," announced the King suddenly.

Jezebel looked up from the letter she had been drafting. "She?" she asked inquisitively.

To her frustration, the man ignored her and went on. "She's in a town up north called Dunlop."

Jezebel's ears perked up at the word. That was where her little two problems were said to be heading. Again Jezebel begged an explanation of him. "Who is?" And again she was ignored.

Jezebel felt the pen in her hand bending with the pressure she was putting on it, and she willed her fingers to let go of their death grip. She took a deep calming breath. The King's audacity in his treatment of her was a continuous grating on her frail nerves, but she knew she'd have to put up with it until she maneuvered her way to the top.

He finally turned his attention to her, and she tilted her head at the strange look in his eyes. It was as if he were focusing on something far distant. "We're going to take a trip to Dunlop, I think," he said finally, his attention on her once more. "Right away. And bring your hounds." He paused and then narrowed his eyes slightly, now looking directly at her, and he said sternly, "I don't want her killed though, so make sure you keep them under control. She must be brought to me alive."

Jezebel bit back a retort, having learned that the King was not a man who tolerated being talked back to. She simply nodded to him instead. Luckily, she had learned how to handle men like him by way of her father. _I just have to hold off the anger until the right moment, and then someday, someday I will be able to throw it all back in his face, and tell him about all the maneuvering I've been doing behind his back, and how bad of a father he had been_...She shook off the annoyance, and covered her scowl by bending her head while she curtsied her good-bye as he left the room.

She sat back down roughly, rumpling her dress. She crumpled the letter that she had been working on as she no longer needed to come up with the excuse. The King had just ordered her to go to the very place she had been trying to come up with a reason to visit. Sometimes things worked out so deliciously.

She was curious who this "she" was that had the King so worked up. _Perhaps some little trollop he had been using for his plaything had gotten away and he had just tracked her down. It seems like too silly of a thing to go on such a journey for, but then again, men have such big egos, and would go to great lengths to protect their pride_.

She hoped that while they were there they could look through the ruins of the Dark King; though it was doubtful that there was anything of value left at the fortress. Despite the horror stories and urban legends surrounding the place, there were bound to be those who were fool-hardy, desperate, or just plain stupid enough who would have braved the stories and gone in to loot the place. The kings of the past had all unsuccessfully put bans on entering its grounds, but this only served to further fuel people's curiosity. This had led to others putting together pillaging missions to rid it of its notorious history, so one way or the other it was probably empty. The really good things had been burned in the fires directly following the overthrow anyway. _Which really was a great shame_. The book that Jezebel had gotten was extremely interesting, and it constantly hinted at there being much more knowledge that was not contained in its pages. _But it had existed and had been known at some point_. And then it had been burned and forgotten. Jezebel sighed at the loss.

She raised herself out of her seat and tried to casually glance at the papers that the King had been looking through before his hasty exit, in hopes of getting some clue as to where he had suddenly gotten such information. Frustratingly, he had them spelled so that they were blank to peering eyes. Her hands itched to pick them up and try and break the enchantment, but she knew that even in seeming privacy, things were never as they seemed in the palace halls, and she left them alone. She made her way out of the chamber she had been using to discuss the current affairs with the King, and walked slowly back to her own suite.

In her room, a letter on the table caught her attention and she opened it, reading, "My lady, I have some information on the man you wanted me to look into that I think you will enjoy. If you would please join me at your earliest convenience in the conference room, I would be delighted to share it with you, Devon." Jezebel placed the letter back on the table and went immediately into the conference room, eager for any news. Devon was sitting there waiting for her and she greeted him, allowing him to speak. "What have you learned?" she asked.

He smiled one of those smiles that she had begun to recognize as meaning he was extremely pleased with the information he had to offer her. "Only that our King is not who he says he is."

"Oh?" Jezebel was intrigued.

"Yes. Baron Asheron, through whom the King made his claim to the throne due to blood relation, in actuality, has no blood relation to our fine new King whatsoever."

"How so?"

"Well, despite the mysterious disappearance of several of the people who knew anything about it, I was able to find out that Lady Asheron already had a son when she wed the baron. A son whose name was Nathair."

Jezebel raised a brow. "And were there any other children in the union?"

"Several miscarriages, but no live births. Which is apparently why the lord finally named the boy as his heir. The fact that it wasn't his was covered up so that he wouldn't lose face over not being able to produce offspring, and having been forced to name an illegitimate child as his heir."

"Hmm," Jezebel thought. "And what are the logistics of being named the heir with no blood relation in this situation?"

"I am not familiar with any such circumstances ever coming up, Councilor, but I would assume that since his only true claim to the throne was that royal blood flowed in his veins, he most likely would not have gotten the same reception that he did, had he revealed this fact."

Jezebel pondered this juicy revelation for a moment. "How delightful."

She did a quick preliminary list of possible uses of the information in her head, before giving Devon further instructions. Perhaps this 'she' the King was so intent on finding was someone who knew this information. Jezebel's presence on this journey could be useful in many ways.

"Make sure that no one else knows this story, and can't find it out until if and when we want them to," she ordered. "I have another chore for you as well, Devon," she said as he started to take his leave of her, and he paused. "I'd like you to start arranging a series of unfortunate events to happen to my father. Now that I am the one in the position of power, I'd like to see him squirm. He's been acting much too condescending to a woman in my position, and I'd like to see him put in his proper place. I have a list of possibilities I came up with the other day around here somewhere."

She smiled nastily and he grinned back at her. "It will be my pleasure, my lady." He continued his bow, and left her to further sort through all that had happened. Her father was a very religious man, of the superstitious sort, and she had faith in Devon's creativity to take advantage of this fact. A wrong sign here, or a bad omen there, and her father was apt to change his whole course of action in order to try and correct whatever mistake he had made in the Sleeping God's eyes.

Once he was out of her way, busy with his own misfortunes, she could concentrate her full energies on the King. He was the last obstacle in her path now, and Devon had just brought her the key to bringing him down as well. There was simply no conceivable way that she would not get what she wanted. The blood in the King's veins may be tainted and untrue, but hers was pure and royal, and she could see a path clearly now, bringing her straight to the throne.
CHAPTER 33

"What's the matter," Gryffon asked her when Layna halted her movement behind him.

She hesitated before answering. "I have this disturbing, nightmarish feeling like I've been here before."

Gryffon glanced around at the abandoned hallways. "These kinds of places can do that to you. Come on, don't worry about it."

Layna couldn't shake the awful feeling that easily, but she resumed her motion regardless.

They moved through the narrow passageway, deeper into the depths of the castle. The castle reeked of musky fumes, and Layna found it difficult to breathe. The more Layna saw, the more convinced she was that it really was familiar.

They had to squeeze through one set of gates which someone had physically pried open, and the second set looked like it had been melted away. As they came to the end of the passageway and through a hulking metal door, they came out into a large open area.

Layna's throat tightened as she surveyed the room. Numerous torture devices – some of which she recognized as racks and feet smashers – filled the room, along with various shelves of heinous implements. The tools ranged from common knives with wicked serrated edges, to elaborate contraptions that someone with a truly sick mind must have thought up. There were also several weird-looking objects that she couldn't even begin to imagine a use for, and had no desire to try. It looked like some of the weaponry had been taken, as there were several empty holders, and Layna was sickened by the looters' greed. This apparent torture area was in a semi-circle shape and hallways spread out from it. By the looks of it, each hallway led to a section of holding cells.

Gryffon grabbed a set of keys that miraculously still hung on a peg, and led the way down the passageway to the right. The ceilings were claustrophobically low and Layna's mind kept playing tricks on her, making her think that she could hear someone moaning in the cells. The first couple that they passed were empty, but shackles lined their walls ominously and Layna was reminded of the cell she and Gryffon had both occupied recently. Even it seemed spacious and homey compared to these.

They made their way grimly and methodically down the passageways, and found that they were arranged like a wagon wheel around the central torture chamber. The original passageway they had come down was the only apparent way to the surface. Some of the cells held the ragged remains of their previous occupants. Most just had scattered bones, gnawed on by the rats that still skittered around, not at all made nervous by the light from the mage globes. Every time she met one of their beady little eyes, Layna shivered.

They searched the whole dungeon, and Layna forced herself to look into each of the cells for any clues. Other than the vile evidence of atrocities long past, she could see no sign of any runes or any indication that the mark on her neck corresponded to anything from the Dark King's castle.

They walked slowly along the final passageway and came out into the torture chamber once more. Gryffon stood there for a moment, biting his lip. "There has to be something that we're missing." Layna felt that odd tug of familiarity again and looked back up the passageway they had just come down with the urge to go and look in the last cell once more. "That's it!" exclaimed Gryffon triumphantly. "Look here, there should be another passageway right here between the one we just came down and the doorway. Following the pattern of the rest there is plenty of room, so unless it's not there because something else is..." He started back down the passageway with Layna in tow. They came to the last cell that Layna had been wondering about, and Gryffon stepped inside. Layna winced, but followed. "Well, would you look at that," Gryffon said.

Layna glanced from the wall he was staring at back at Gryffon. "What is it?"

"Doesn't this wall seem awfully well-preserved to you?" he asked. Layna took a closer look, and this time did notice that whilst the walls of the other cells had shown cracks and moss, this one looked as though it could have been built yesterday. Gryffon started running his hands along it, studying its surface for a lever or other means of entrance. He muttered to himself.

Layna walked to the far left corner and had a flash of déjà-vu. She glanced behind her, noting that from here it was impossible to see into any other cells. She reached up a hand to feel at the wall, and it passed straight through. "Gryffon," she said shortly.

He looked up at her, and brightened at her discovery. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked her in a gently teasing tone. His cheeriness seemed so out of place.

She took a deep breath before sending her mage light through the illusion, and then stepped through the stone wall herself. She gasped as she passed through the other side, and hurriedly moved out of the way so that Gryffon could come through. To the left, where the last branch in the wagon wheel pattern that Gryffon had pointed out would have been, was a huge storage room, and it was filled to the brim. Obviously the looters had not thought to try walking through the cell walls. To the right was another hallway, this time lined with actual doors instead of cell bars. In an unspoken agreement, Gryffon and Layna took a left to look at the storage room before tackling the hallway. Layna could not believe her eyes as they scrutinized its contents.

It held piles of people's belongings: remnants of clothing, shoes, and jewelry. The piles were taller than Layna. She could only imagine how many people it would take to collect that many of any of those things. The room came to a point, and at the skinny end there was a large desk which held an open book.

Gryffon went to look at it, and he blew the dusk from its pages. His breath threatened to make the whole book collapse into dust itself so he refrained from touching it, but perused the open page. "Looks like a list of people with their crime and what possessions they had." He snorted. "Most of the listings under crime are nothing of the sort. Listen to this: 'Lillith Posen; one tunic, one wedding band, one pair size 7 shoe. Jailed for buying bread from a person believed to have set foot in Treymayne.' How ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, she probably died horribly for it," put in Layna seriously.

Gryffon nodded in disgust, and they moved out of the storage room towards the hallway. Layna was filled with a sense of dread that far outweighed the initial aversion she had felt when first descending the stairs. As they opened the first doorway, Layna knew why. Runes covered the walls, which also had odd splash-like discolorations that Layna had the sinking feeling had been blood during the room's heyday. In the middle of the chamber was a table, the wood stained a deep dark red that had little to do with the original color. Shackles were affixed to the walls like in the cells, but otherwise the room was strangely empty save for the table. The table looked as though it had at one point probably had leather straps that went across it. There were remains of the metal bindings on either side.

Layna felt herself getting dizzy, and the room and the runes seemed to swim in circles around her. "I can't be in here," she managed to choke out, and she rushed out into the hallway, gulping for air as though the room had been suffocating her.

Gryffon followed her out and put a protective hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She nodded numbly and let out a quick steadying breath. Gryffon took her hand, and together they walked up the hallway. They systematically opened each of the doorways and peeked inside, but did not go in any more of them. They recognized the rune that Gryffon bore on his chest, but did not see any sign of the one that Layna had. They came to the last doorway at the very end of the hall and cracked it open. This room was the same as the rest, save one difference. This one still had someone in it. Or, at least, what was left of someone.

A delicate skeleton, barely held together, was stretched across the far wall. It was held up by shackles on the wrists, ankles and torso. Layna stepped cautiously towards it and let out a strangled cry at the agony that this poor person must have endured. There were chips of bone missing where they must have been hit so hard that they had fractured and had since fallen out. Almost every bone showed signs of having been broken and knitted back together. As Layna looked tentatively with her mage sight, she was horrified to see the extensiveness of the damage that had been inflicted upon the skeleton. Many of the wounds would normally have killed someone, but obviously the person had not been allowed to die as they showed signs of having healed before the person finally perished.

As she looked closer, she saw that there was gold trim lining the bones, holding them together. Layna knew, as she was still holding on to the power and was therefore able to, that this too had been done while the person was still living. Layna shook her head in disbelief that any human could possibly do this to another, and she wept for the woman. For a woman it was, she now knew. Through her connection with the long-dead woman's remains, Layna could still feel the ripples of pain despite so much time passing. She reached up to claw at the shackles in an effort to get the woman down.

"What are you doing?" Gryffon asked her urgently.

"I have to get her down and cremate her in a proper funeral. It will be a symbol for all of them," she said through her tears, "for all the innocent people who suffered and died here."

Gryffon replied by stepping forward to help her undo the shackles. She was grateful for his acceptance of her need to do this without question; she wasn't sure that she could put into words the emotions that this place evoked in her. She felt guilty for what had happened, though it had been long before her time.

Together they very gently laid the woman on the table. Layna took off her cloak and spread it over the woman as a funeral shroud. She whispered the blessings of peace, extending her prayer to all those affected by this place. Gryffon remained silent as she stepped back and reached for the power as she had with Mila, and she very carefully set the bones on fire, focusing the power so that it was hot enough to burn them to ash. It took quite some time as Layna was determined to burn off every speck of the offending gold lace-work before starting the ritual of burning itself.

When the skeleton had disappeared, leaving only a tiny pile of dust in the vague shape of a person on the table, Layna extinguished her fire and was pleased that she had not even scorched the table.

A breeze suddenly came out of nowhere and the dust scattered off the table, disappearing into the wind.

Layna and Gryffon stood in silence for a moment before Gryffon spoke. "How is there a breeze way down here?"

"Magic," was Layna's answer, but she followed where the ashes had blown and could feel air moving through a crack in the wall. She pressed a hand against the spot and was rewarded by a creaking as the wall slid back into itself, revealing yet another secret passage.

Once more they sent their mage lights through before them and followed behind. It was a narrow spiraling staircase lined with more runes, and Layna tried not to brush up against the walls as if even physical contact with them would contaminate her.

At the top was another door that looked as though it would slide into the indentation along the side of it to allow them to pass. Layna paused as she saw what was on the door. It was unmarred by the smaller runes, like those that completely covered the rest of the walls, but in the center of its starkly blank surface was unmistakably the symbol from her neck.

Gryffon and Layna exchanged a look and Layna raised a shaking hand to push the door aside. As she had guessed, it slid back into the wall next to it to reveal an opening. Layna thought she saw an ornately decorated room in the dim light beyond it and she stepped into the room with nervous exhilaration, hoping that it would reveal some information about the mark that labeled its door.

Her excitement deflated quickly as she looked around. She sighed. It looked as though the passageway had brought them back up to the main part of the castle, and this room was as threadbare as the rest.

Gryffon, with his greater knowledge of the castle's lay-out was able to deduce more from the threadbare room, however. "Looks like this was the King's chamber," he commented.

Layna winced. Perhaps it was significant that her mark was on the door that led here after all. "Can we get out of here now?" she asked pleadingly, and to her relief, Gryffon agreed.

Layna stretched out in the bath house back at the Phoenix, happily letting the water lap up over her chin as she relaxed in the warm water. It felt wonderful to unwind after days on the road, and she let the heat seep into her bones. Slowly, it removed the chill from having visited the dark fortress, and Layna tried hard not to dwell on the horrible feeling she had gotten from being there. She still felt wary, as though a presence was watching her, blaming her for the awful things that had happened there, and she was glad to be gone.

As the water finally started to cool, Layna resisted the urge to use her newfound power to reheat it, and reached lazily for a towel. She took another and bound her hair, bundling it and the towel on top of her head. She wrapped the first around her torso, sliding her feet into slippers, and made her way back to the room. She opened the door to the rooms to reveal Gryffon pouring over a book, and she sighed happily. "You really should go soak out all your aches in the bath house," she told him, "It's simply divine."

Gryffon looked up from the book and laughed. "Perhaps I'll do just that. Getting rid of all this dirt would be an improvement too." He did a double take at her, and suddenly grew serious. "What did you do with the charm I gave you?"

"It's right here in my pocket," Layna said defensively. "I just took it off earlier because it was tickling my neck."

"Put it back on," Gryffon commanded her urgently.

Layna complied, though she was hurt at the harshness of his words. She groped through the pockets of the clothes draped over her arm and found the charm. She dropped it around her neck. "There. Happy?"

Gryffon relaxed, and seemed to sense her discomfort. "Sorry," he apologized. "It's just that it's more than just a necklace, it's a shielding charm. When I first met you, I had the suspicion that you had talent, and a lot of it. We thought it would be best if you didn't draw attention to yourself if you did happen to discover that you were able to do magic."

"We?" Layna demanded, her temper flaring.

Gryffon looked embarrassed answering, "I'm sorry, I couldn't tell you at first, and I happened to mention to my handlers that I might have come across a high talent. They didn't want you falling into the hands of the priests and having who-know-what happen to you so they suggested the charm. I kinda forgot about it until I suddenly noticed your bare neck tonight. I didn't mean to keep it from you or anything, really. I even added a protection charm to it too, because I...when I gave it to you I didn't think that I'd- that'd you'd be-" He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "Will you forgive me?"

Layna glared at him for a moment, and then relented. "Alright, thank you. So what's the big deal that I took it off for a few hours?"

"Only that you're using magic now on top of having a lot of talent. You're like a beacon without it to anyone who's watching for magic-use. From what we've learned, there could be those who are, especially around here. Not to mention that mark on your neck, we don't want to alert anyone watching for that to your presence."

"No, we certainly don't," Layna agreed and then mused, "I thought that like with the messages you send, that any kind of magic gives off a radiant feel. How can a magic charm hide magic? And we've been doing magic anyway, so how is this different?"

"Well," Gryffon explained, "First off, the magic we are working is relatively small and therefore wouldn't necessarily attract a lot of attention. Once a talent is discovered, you're body gives off a radiant 'feel' of magic, which is stronger the stronger the talent is. So in your case, it's pretty apparent. The charm works to counteract this beacon of power. It still is obvious that there is magic present; it just works to disguise it. It first tries to fool someone into thinking that it is only the charm that is magic, and not the person itself. If this doesn't work, it makes it look as though you have less talent than you really do. So someone doing a cursory scan of the area or who looks at you briefly wouldn't notice, unless for some reason they try and break into the shield. A person with more talent still could do it, but it makes them think there's no reason to. Plus, the charms are done by very powerful mages back in Treymayne. I don't think that there are many here who are more powerful. Since your Dark Age there are only a select few with any real talent such as you."

"Such as me," Layna repeated thoughtfully.

After several days of asking around at various spots around town, they had learned quite a lot of legends regarding the hidden location, but most of it seemed to be different versions of the same thing, and none specified a location. Layna was slightly discouraged that the only real information that they had gotten was that they shouldn't even try to get in. Gryffon had been optimistic though, and seemed to think that even if no one knew where the entrance was, they still may be able to find clues by wandering the countryside. He reasoned that if there were still followers going in and out, they would have to leave some sign. The thought made Layna shiver, but she was growing more and more nervously curious the closer they got to the historic place. Especially since their visit to the castle had given them no further clues aside from the mark having been on the door between the King's chamber and the magical torture rooms. Maybe it was just a protective rune and really had nothing to do with the Dark King. _Maybe._

"Psst," said a voice from a dark alley, and Layna jumped.

Gryffon turned towards it slowly. He craned his head around to try and get a view into the shadows where the voice had come from. "Who's there?" he asked warily.

"I overheard youse at the tavern the other night," the voice said, "I knows a way in." A hand snaked out into the light beckoning to them, revealing itself to be that of a young child.

Layna glanced at Gryffon who gave her a shrug before carefully following the boy into the alley, ready to turn and run should it be a trap.

The little boy came into view as their eyes adjusted to the dim light in the alley, and they saw that he was an unfortunate fact of life in any city, and more so here in Dunlop which had been in its prime hundreds of years ago. He was a street child. His clothes were tattered and torn, and the tunic and boots he wore were much too big for him. At least he looked well-covered and well-nourished for living on the streets.

His eyes darted around as he moved, and he walked in jerky motions, as if trying to evade pursuit though none was chasing him. He reminded Layna of a mouse; moving from hiding spot to hiding spot, searching for crumbs, ever watchful for the hawk that might suddenly come plunging down from above. He led them down to the end of the alley and looked around, glancing behind them to make sure that they weren't followed. He slipped around behind a gate. They followed and emerged in a small area between two buildings. The nook had been turned into a shelter by piles of crates, old clothing, and by the looks of it, anything else they could find. A small fire was being tended in the back by an older woman who scowled at them as they entered.

"Who are you?" she demanded rudely, looking up from the fire which she had been huddled up against.

"They're with me," said the boy. He brought another blanket over to the woman, and laid it around her frail form.

"I wasn't talking to you, boy," she growled, taking a swing at him and dislodging the blanket he had just brought for her.

He dodged the blow deftly, and replaced the blanket with a shrug before turning his attention back to them. "Me mum's a bit ornery in this weather, it makes 'er bones ache." The woman grumbled something impolite and turned her back to them. She hummed softly under her breath as she rocked back and forth in front of the fire.

"So youse wanna get into the ruins, do you?" the boy asked, his voice thick with an accent that Layna couldn't place.

"Yes," said Gryffon guardedly, and he waited for the boy to go on.

"Well," the boy said, "I can gets you at least parts way." He paused and gave them a grin, revealing blackened teeth. "For a pretty penny, of course."

"Nothing in life is free," quipped Gryffon and nodded to the boy, indicating that he understood that the information would not come without a price.

The boy nodded happily back and went on, "I's been around in them foothills since I were a little, and cans tell you that without a knowin' which caves are which you could find yourself in a tomb yourself, if you catch my meaning. Supposedly there's another entrance that the Darkies use, but I ain't never seen it. I can lead you to the main doors through the tunnel maze, but then you're on your own. Ain't nobody in town here that'll take even half as close as me."

"Darkies?" Layna asked, and was given a long stare before he explained.

"Darkies are the ones who still follow the ways of the Dark King," the boy said softly, as if afraid he'd be overheard. "They's say that the followers are still servin' his spirit, and they've been seen in the woods in these parts. We don't go out at night if we can help it here, it be dangerous alone in the dark."

The woman was starting to fuss. Her humming was replaced with curses and the boy hurried to continue, looking at her with trepidation.

"Meet me by the big oak behind the smith's tomorrow at sunrise. I'll show the way." He shooed them out, calling behind them, "And don't forget to bring me a little somethin'."

The next morning they awoke in darkness, and prepared themselves for the trek to the caves and the possibilities of answers that lay within them. Gryffon handed her a dagger and she fastened it to her belt solemnly. They found their way to the kitchen and left money with the innkeeper, telling him that they were going to be camping out of town for a bit so they wanted to pay up their bill.

Layna stifled a yawn as they made their way to the smith's, and she shifted the weight of her pack to a more comfortable position. They found the oak that the boy must have been referring to, and settled in underneath it to wait for their guide. Layna had just closed her eyes and was hoping for a little cat-nap when the boy appeared, seemingly out of thin air beside them.

She jerked awake and he grinned sheepishly at her. "Mornin'" he greeted them. "You brought somethin' for me?"

Gryffon nodded, and held out his hand with a few coins in it. The boy looked at it and narrowed his eyes and Gryffon added another.

The boy reached out and took the coins with a satisfied nod and set off without a look behind him. Gryffon and Layna hurried to follow.

The hike to the caves was long, but not overly difficult. The winter's snow was already melted, making walking easier. Layna grew more nervous with every step, fear growing inside her of the danger that awaited them. It was easy to fall into Gryffon's easy-going attitude that everything would go alright when the plan was in the distant future, but now that they were headed into danger, she wasn't sure that she had quite as much confidence in their abilities as Gryffon did. _Why would we be able to succeed where so many others have failed? And not only failed, but paid for their failure with their lives._ She tried to break this train of thought by focusing instead on winding the power around her like a cocoon, trying to create a sort of barrier between her and anything that might try and hurt her.

Just as Layna's feet were beginning to ache, the boy leading them stopped and pointed to a small cave entrance up above them. "I'll lead youse in as far as I've gone," he told them, "but after that you're on your own."

"How do you know it's the right cave if you haven't gone all the way in?" Layna asked.

"You'll see." was the only answer she got. He scurried up the sharp incline of rocks ahead of them, and disappeared into the cave. Gryffon followed behind, and turned to give Layna a hand. She took it, and heaved herself up as well. They squeezed into the dark opening behind the boy and found, to Layna's surprise, that inside was a somewhat large cavern.

The boy was holding something glowing and Layna looked curiously at it.

"Glow worms." He held them up for her to see. "Someone magicked 'em to stay inside these globes to light the way. Pretty good talent to last this long, huh?" He turned, and the light followed his movement, casting eerie shadows along the cavern walls.

A bat was startled by their entrance, and it detached from the ceiling, fluttering off into the darkness. "Watch your step here," the boy said pointing to where a portion of the floor seemed to be indented in an oddly circular shape. "I think it's already been triggered, but youse can never be too careful."

"Why do you think it's been triggered?" Layna asked and the boy pointed once more. Layna's vision followed where he pointed, and she sucked in her breath. As his hand swung around to show her, the light followed to illuminate a section of cave that had previously been in the dark. The scene it revealed was grisly: A skeleton was pinned to the opposite wall, held in place by a hundred daggers that had been buried inches deep into the rock wall.

"Whoa," she whispered.

"Yeah," the boy said, "I wouldn't wants to be wrong. There's all sorts of things likes that so I'd stick close."

Layna decided that perhaps she wouldn't ask any more questions.

The boy led them around several other booby-traps. He pointed out the triggers and another skeleton, this one crushed under a huge stone. "I think some of them were triggered by magic," the boy said, "I couldn't find any other way they would have been, so hopefully any other magic ones have worn off by now." He didn't seem overly confident about this statement, and Layna glanced at the globe of glow worms, still shining brightly.

"What made you come in here," Gryffon asked him curiously, and the boy shrugged.

"Same as the rest; hoping to find something worthwhile," he paused to look back at them with a roguish grin, "I just happen to be smarter than they are, and I let them go in and get it. Then I comes in to take it off them once they don't need it anymore, see?"

"How nice," Gryffon commented dryly. The boy didn't seem to take notice of the sarcasm.

They came to a doorway, the man-made object looking out of place in the natural cave. It was elaborately carved wood, polished to the point of gleaming and strange symbols were carved into it. Her breath caught in her throat as she caught a glimpse of the symbol matching the mark on her neck. A glance in his direction told her that Gryffon saw it too, and he raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing.

The boy walked up to the door and laid a hand on several of the symbols. The door swung open with a squeak, a great ball of dust billowing out as the air around it was disturbed. Layna waved a hand in front of her face and coughed.

"Don't touch anything," ordered the boy, and he entered through the doorway. Gryffon and Layna were close behind.

Walking through the doorway was like entering a whole other world. The path became illuminated with their movement, and suddenly the cave became an actual hallway rather than the rock corridor they had previously been following. There were more of the strange symbols along the walls. Every now and then, there was a hollowed out section of wall where an ornament; be it a golden goblet, a crown, or in one case what looked like some sort of animal's talon, displayed in a glass case. Gryffon moved closer to the talon to inspect it, but heeded the boy's warning and did not touch it.

"Tempting, isn't it?" the boy asked. He sighed, gazing longingly at one of the gold pieces. "Must be a fortune in here, but no one's ever been able to get them off the pedestals without dying so I'm not abouts to try."

"No, I wouldn't think so," Layna agreed. They started forward, moving through the treasure more quickly, the appeal suddenly diminished for Layna knowing that these too were traps. For all they knew they could really only be illusion.

Curious at the thought, Layna reached for the power and touched one of them lightly with a magic tendril of energy. A huge crash sounded and she jumped backwards, tumbling into Gryffon, who caught her and then swung around to face whatever had caused the noise.

Part of the ceiling seemed to break off and crash to the ground all around the pedestal where Layna had sent her tendril of energy. With her second sight, being still open to the power, Layna saw that it was indeed illusion, as was the entire hall, and she shuddered at the danger that was apparent through the magic vision. She quickly cut off the flow of power and brushed herself off. "Well, I guess that answers the question about whether or not the magic triggers are still in place."

"I don't know what you did," said the boy, wide-eyed, "but don't do it again."

"No," Layna said, "for sure."

The boy had stopped walking, and now turned on his heel and headed back towards the entrance. "This is as far as I go," he yelled back over his shoulder, and Layna and Gryffon were left to go on alone. Layna took a deep breath and moved ahead again, trying not to look at the wonders that surrounded them.

They came to a veil draped across the hallway, and Gryffon cautiously pushed it aside and stepped through. Layna followed a pace behind, and was hit by a sudden aroma that was both sweet and spicy.

She took a deep breath as the smell washed over her and she looked at Gryffon with longing. Gryffon, however, was entranced by a sight along the edge of the hallway. Like the first stretch of hall, this one too had side rooms. Only this time they were filled with scantily clad women who were beckoning to Gryffon. His eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head and he watched eagerly as one of the women danced around, bouncing her ample charms seductively.

Layna's offense at Gryffon's obvious interest in the girl overtook her desire to embrace him, and she regained control of her thought processes. Thinking of the treasure in the section before, Layna focused again on the girls, this time with her magic sight – though taking care not to actually touch any of them with the power in order to avoid triggering any more traps.

She was disgusted to find that the rooms actually led to pits in the floor, pools of some nasty looking liquid, or even in one case what must have at one time been some sort of creature. There were the remains of a large something with a spiked collar around the huge neck bones attached to a very heavy chain. Whoever had built this place had certainly gotten creative with their booby-traps.

Layna almost smiled at the reference as she watched Gryffon blindly walk towards one of these 'booby-traps'. But seeing as how the situation was not at all humorous, and she found that she had gotten a peculiar pang of jealousy as she watched his fascination, she instead moved to intercept him.

She put herself between him and the woman, and held out her hands towards his shoulders. He hardly noticed she was there until he rammed into her, and he shook his head with a soft, "Oof!"

He looked down at her. Annoyance flashed across his face at first, then turned to confusion as if he was suddenly brought out of a trance. Then his eyes roamed up and down the length of her.

Layna narrowed her eyes, though she was secretly pleased that he found her attractive as well. She removed her hands from his shoulders to snap her fingers in front of his face. "Hello Gryffon," she said sarcastically, "Are you with me, Gryffon?"

Annoyance once again took precedence and he made a face at her. "What?"

"You don't see anything suspicious about these lovely ladies?"

Gryffon looked around and squinted at the women, some of whom were now removing articles of clothing in their attempt to attract him. Layna could almost see his inward battle to not be drawn in again.

She felt his mage sight extend towards the women. As she watched, she saw his tendril come upon a 'wall', and it was then interestingly misdirected back towards the illusion.

"No," Gryffon said, "They look very real to me. Although now that I think about it, it is strange that they would be here."

"You think?" Layna scoffed, still miffed that he had been distracted so easily.

"Well," Gryffon said defensively, "what do you see?"

For an answer, Layna ripped off a part of the veil that had separated the hall with her knife, and dipped it into the nearest pit, which was filled with a steaming green liquid that burned her nose as she neared it.

As the fabric touched the liquid, it immediately started to melt, letting off a disgusting stench as the acid ate it. With her split vision, Layna could see this happening to the fabric, but she could also see what Gryffon must be watching. He saw the girl grabbing hold of the fabric, and drawing her closer with it. Layna backed up a pace and held the smoking veil in front of her, dropping it to the ground as the liquid leeched up towards her hand. The illusion seemed to pale as she moved it away from the pit, and Gryffon's mage sight now focused on the reality of the acid eating away at the fabric.

Gryffon's mouth formed a silent 'oh' and he said aloud, "Well, moving right along."

He led the way to another veil which he once again pushed aside and ducked through. Layna followed suit, suddenly keenly aware of her stomach which had been growling for the last hour.

They hadn't eaten breakfast this morning, and she was starving. Delicious aromas assailed her nostrils with a vengeance, and Layna quickly looked up at Gryffon. He was already halfway through the passageway, and it was filled with food on either side of her. _Just a little taste won't hurt, right?_ She glanced ahead once more to make sure that Gryffon wasn't looking, and then she started for a table holding an assortment of breads that were making her mouth water.

She didn't make it two steps, however, before Gryffon's voice cut through her trance. "And just what do you think you're doing?" he asked her.

"I'm really hungry," she answered sheepishly. "I didn't think a little nibble would hurt anything."

He gaped at her incredulously "After what you just showed me, you don't think that maybe this food is not what it seems?" He gave her a 'you must be crazy' look and made his way through the hall, glancing back at her to make sure she followed.

Layna looked once more at the food, and then concentrated looking through the food to the real image beneath. Losing her appetite completely at the sight, and almost losing her cookies as well, she hurriedly followed after Gryffon. She was appalled that she had even been momentarily tempted.

She took a deep breath before stepping across the third veil. Once across, she was immediately bombarded by a barrage of horrible accusations being yelled at her and Gryffon from people placed on little podiums in each of the alcoves.

Layna could see Gryffon getting more and more worked up as the people continued their attack, some of them foaming at the mouth in their vehemence. One of them had an uncanny resemblance to Jezebel, and all were making pointedly accurate if negatively skewed comments. Layna shivered at the complexity of the spell that must have gone into the making of this trap to feed upon an individual's particular life events, and was equally chilled by the horrendous assortment of traps that awaited the person who allowed their anger to overtake them and took a swing at one of them.

Layna let out a gasp and leaped forward to intercept Gryffon as he aimed a blow for one of the men. With her double-vision Layna saw a nasty-looking bear claw trap as the man's head. Gryffon's balled fist hit her hard against her shoulder, but luckily it was a glancing impact and most of the force was lost harmlessly in making him twirl around as he struggled to regain his balance.

"What was that for?" he turned on her angrily and balled his fist once more.

Layna didn't bother to try and explain, his current level of anger making him irrational, but simply grabbed hold of him and willed her double vision onto him in a desperate attempt to stave off the attack that would next be aimed towards her.

His anger seemed to melt away as the truth of the room hit him, and he stared at her wide-eyed. "How did you do that?" he asked, and then interrupted himself, "Oh Gods, did I hurt you?"

Layna shrugged it off, though the spot was still tender, and he gave her a contrite look but said nothing else. The eerie quality of these hallways was getting to them both. Illusions that tricked both your senses and your thoughts were difficult to contend with.

They passed to the next section silently and exchanged a puzzled look as the room became suddenly quiet, in stark contrast to the cacophony of insults they had just left.

The hall was lined with mirrors of every shape. Some were tall and thin, lined with gems and jewels worth more than Layna could hope to ever have. Then there were plain mirrors, rusting brass frames with cracked glass, and warped mirrors that would change your appearance as you walked past.

Gryffon let out a sigh and moved forward, and Layna once again followed behind. She nervously looked around with her double vision again, and this time saw no indication of foul play, but did not feel any better. In their short visit here, Layna had learned that not seeing the danger only meant that it was that much more dangerous. It was highly unlikely that the mastermind, or masterminds, that had made this place had put four rooms with unimaginable and cruel torturous traps only to be followed by a harmless row of mirrors.

Layna looked around them as they walked and her reflection caught her eye. She paused to admire the way that the fabric clung to her figure, and as she looked she had to admit that it was quite a nice figure too. She turned to face the mirror, posing in front of it to see the outfit from different views. It definitely was not the most flattering, her skin tone and hair really would be complimented by a maroon...she gasped delightedly as right as she had the thought, her reflection suddenly changed to show her in a beautiful maroon evening gown. She happily thought how much better it would look with earrings and a necklace to match, and these too appeared. She smiled at herself in the mirror and found herself drawn into her deep blue eyes, how mysterious and lovely they looked.

"Hey, take a look at this," Gryffon's voice drifted into her reverie and she raised a hand as if to wave away a pesky insect. She twisted her body so that she could see the perfect curve of her-

"Layna!" a voice shouted in her ear. She jumped backwards, cutting off her view from the mirror.

"What already, why are you yelling at me?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last two minutes," Gryffon told her irritably, "and you've just been standing here drooling over yourself in the mirror. Come take a look at this," he took hold of her hand, and led her towards the end of the hallway.

Layna glanced longingly at the mirrors as they passed, yearning to stand in front of them to watch her reflection once more. She sighed as they passed each one, but Gryffon only quickened his pace and firmed up his grip on her. He pointed at the end of the hall, and Layna wrenched her gaze from the mirrors to follow his pointing finger.

The last mirror, the largest in the hall, showed an image of a very handsome young man sitting with his head in his hands, gazing into the mirror in open admiration of himself. Layna snorted at his vanity, but then blushed, realizing that she had been guilty of the same only moments ago. Shame turned to another emotion and a chill went down her back as she finally really looked at the figure before the mirror.

The handsome image was not a reflection of the man before it, but rather was what the reflection must have looked like when the man first sat down in front of it. By the looks of the skeleton draped in rags before it, that was quite some time ago.

"I guess that's how this room gets you." Gryffon gave her a knowing look and Layna blushed again, following him to the next room.

Her guilt grew and Layna found herself wondering why Gryffon had not been affected by the mirrors while she had. Or the room with the food. Gryffon was so good at everything and was so sure of himself all the time, it just wasn't fair. _Why can't I be strong like him?_ He kept glancing back at her with an odd look on his face until Layna finally stopped short as he glanced back for the tenth time, and she asked "What?"

He stopped, and turned to face her. "I was just wondering how you were able to make me 'see' what you see with your mage sight. It doesn't seem fair that I have been working with magic my whole life and can't do half the things that you are capable of."

"Well, it's not fair that you got to work with magic your whole life. I've spent my whole life trying to make ends meet."

"It's so unfair that just because you're beautiful you get people to do things for you."

"It's not fair that just because you are a man and a noble you get more respect."

"I wish I were you!"

"I wish I were you!"

They made this last comment in unison, and the reverberations in the hallway echoed in the empty alcoves. They stared at each other for a long moment before either spoke.

"I think," Layna whispered slowly, "That perhaps we should continue on. I don't know about you, but I have the incredible urge to go on and on about how much better you have things, but something inside me is screaming that we need to leave."

"I agree," Gryffon agreed tightly, and he turned on his heel to once more lead the way out of the room.

Layna breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through the next veil and the overwhelming jealously she had felt eased. The room on the other side was filled with armchairs of every shape and size. Layna had never seen so many comfortable looking seats, not even in the very expensive household of the Lady Jezebel.

She took a step into the room, and suddenly realized just how tired she was, and how inviting the chairs really were. _We have been working awfully hard lately, we certainly deserve a chance to rest for just a bit_.

She took a seat next to Gryffon in one of the armchairs that the alcoves provided. Lazily she wondered if perhaps she should have checked to see if these were trapped as well. But she didn't really feel like doing it. She opened her mouth to comment to Gryffon about how comfortable the chairs were, but closed it again. It really just didn't seem worth the effort, so she didn't bother.

The little voice in the back of her head was screaming at her once more that something was very wrong here, but she just couldn't muster the energy to concentrate on what it could possibly be. She relaxed a little farther into the plush chair.

With great effort she glanced at Gryffon, and saw that he too was leaning back very comfortably. He looked as though he was about to take a nap, and she thought that seemed like a good idea. Layna was distinctly aware of just how tired she was; they had gotten up very early this morning for something. She couldn't remember and didn't care to try and think about what for, but she was very exhausted. She closed her tired eyes, letting the embrace of sleep close in around her.
CHAPTER 34

Jezebel sniffed her disdain at having to lift her skirts and soil her new shoes in the dank caverns of the ruins. She'd have to go buy three more pairs just to make up for the indignity.

The King was ahead of her, snaking through the maze of caves like he lived there. She gave another sniff, he was certainly showing the true colors of his non-royal blood; no one of true breeding would find themselves caught dead in here. She had debated revealing what she knew about his past to him, but his close-minded obsession with finding whoever this person was distracting him from everything else. She had decided to save the morsel for when he would properly digest it.

She was still insatiably curious why the King was so hell-bent on coming all the way here. He was offering up no insight for her, and his actions were just as baffling.

They had arrived in Dunlop earlier that day, and the King had had a secret meeting with two men in black hooded cloaks. He had not required her attendance at this meeting, so Jezebel had taken the chance to have a look around.

The Dark King's castle had, of course, been easy to locate being the vast structure that it was, and Jezebel was awed by the sheer power that had gone into the making of it. She would have loved to have spent the day exploring. However, she had put aside her desire to search the fortress, and had spent the day looking for her two little problems instead. She was determined to find them while she was here so they could be properly dealt with.

She had gotten information that the two had indeed stayed at the Phoenix Inn last night, but no one would tell her where they were headed today. Before she could look further into it, the King had returned and asked that she accompany him. Then the same two men with whom he'd had the meeting led them to the sacred entrance, as they called it.

Jezebel called it a cave. _A dank, slimy, smelly cave_.

Jezebel had no doubt that these two men were members of the Order, and she was once again impressed despite herself at the reach of the organization. She didn't know exactly what the King hoped to find in whatever place it was that this secret entrance led to, or what the Order would have to do with the person he was after. He had not even asked around in town for this girl he was supposedly looking for. Jezebel half wondered if the story about finding the girl had just been his excuse to come here and look through the old ruins himself. _But the King didn't need an excuse to do anything, so why bother?_

She had at first been furious when the King interrupted her own search by insisting that she come along on this mission of his, tramping around in the forest to find a cave. But she was becoming more and more curious to see if it really was some secret entrance as the cloaked men had claimed. Perhaps it was an entrance into one of the old ruins where there might be some relic left behind. If so, she supposed perhaps it was worth putting off her search for the two miscreants for a few hours longer.

The trek through the woods had been tedious, but the cavern itself was mystifying: There were runes along the walls, some of which Jezebel recognized from her book, and many new ones which she tried to commit to memory for later research. It was intriguing, leading her to the small hope that maybe it would be worth the discomfort after all. _P_ _erhaps I'll find a book about a new torture that I can inflict upon the two renegades. Wouldn't that be wonderful_.

The hounds formed a single-file line behind her, and she smiled at their obedience. Soon she would have the whole country in the palm of her hand, just like the hounds.

Jezebel tripped over a loose rock, and she brought her attention back to watching her step. There had _better_ be something worth her time in here after all this.

The King wound around the corridors with an ease that made Jezebel suspicious. He stopped before a door and moved his hands over the runes in a specific pattern.

The door rumbled and opened before him and Jezebel raised a brow. _It certainly looks as though he's been here before_. Her regard for him was raised another notch despite herself, and she couldn't help but be impressed by his advances in gaining access to such a long-held secret place; if, in fact, it was that place. Her respect was slightly tarnished by the fact that it still was a disgusting cave, however.

"What is this place?" she asked, half expecting him not to answer.

"The entrance to the tomb of the Dark King," he replied to her surprise, and she shivered excitedly. Perhaps there was truth to the hooded men's claim after all. _The power that must be held in there!_

It was said that when the Bloodguard stole his body and reburied the King in the secret tomb, that they buried with him the books that had been saved from the fires. When they had prepared his body for his eventual reincarnation, they included with his remains everything he would need upon his return. And unlike the looted ruins on the outside, the tomb had never before been breached, or in fact even found. If it really was the tomb...Jezebel stopped worrying about her shoes, and walked faster.

They rounded a corner, and Jezebel almost ran into the King, who had stopped dead in front of her. Jezebel rolled her eyes and stepped carefully around him so that she could get into the room and see why he had stopped. The passageway disappeared behind her as the hounds slipped through, shimmering into a very real illusion of solid rock, and Jezebel peered around the room.

It was a large cavern with two doors on opposite sides of the room – or rather one door and one now-solid rock pathway – and one large doorway to their left. Large stalactites hung down from the huge ceiling, though the rest of the cave was polished smooth.

The one main door was magnificent, and Jezebel's breath caught in her throat. _Surely that is the entrance to the tomb of a King! I am so close to knowledge that would help to let me take my rightful place in the world: On the top!_

She started towards the door eagerly, but was struck speechless as the door opposite them opened and the King spoke.

"Ah, there you are, my dear."

*

Layna was lying in the middle of a flowery meadow, the wind gently blowing over her as it blew puffs of dandelion seeds across the clearing. She had not a care in the world, and she marveled at how peaceful it was here. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, or where here was. But it was like Gamoland, the utopia where one would spend the afterlife and that which was home to the Gods.

It really was too much effort to think too hard anyway, better just to watch the clouds passing. As she blinked sleepily, observing the clouds take on new shapes as they floated lazily across the sky, one of them formed a rather dragon-like figure.

As she watched, Layna swore it seemed to coalesce into a dense form and actually swoop down towards her. Dragons were the physical manifestations of the Three, though this one seemed to be a smaller version of the dragon gods.

All that thinking hurt Layna's head, and she closed her eyes a moment to clear her mind. When she opened them she saw that the dragon had separated from the rest of the clouds, and was practically on top of her. She had plenty of time to get out of the way, but she just didn't feel like moving. She simply watched it descend towards her with a lazy curiosity.

It landed next to her, and Layna had the urge to reach out and touch it, but her hand felt so heavy. It was a beautiful creature, scales like opals with rainbows caught inside. It was primarily black in color but seemed to be every other color at the same time as it shifted and the sunlight hit it in different directions. Layna smiled inwardly, though it was too much effort to actually move the muscles in her face to show it outwardly, and thought how wonderful this new addition to her heaven was.

"WAKE!" shouted a piercing voice in her mind, echoing through her skull.

A sharp pain stabbed through her euphoric state, and Layna realized that the dragon had bitten her in the arm as well. Her other arm flew to cover the bite, and she backed up hastily from the creature.

She jerked awake and fell out of the chair in her flailing. She looked around her, and blinked to take in the reality of the room. She was horrified to see that many of the chairs held skeletons in various stages of decay, and with one eye closed in apprehension of what she might find, she looked behind her at the chair she had just occupied.

She let out a little scream at the sight of the pile of bones she had just been sitting in and frantically brushed off her clothing.

Gryffon snorted awake and looked around with the same sense of horror that Layna felt. He quickly removed himself from the chair, and came to stand next to her while they surveyed the room.

"I hope that there aren't any more of these rooms," Layna whispered.

"Me too," answered Gryffon sincerely. He glanced back at her and furrowed his brow. "You're bleeding." Layna followed his pointing finger and raised her arm to see four tiny droplets of blood welling up from her forearm.

She probed at the offending wound, and decided it wasn't anything to worry about, though something about it nagged at her. "It's nothing, just a little scratch. Are we ready to move on?"

They made their way to the end of the hallway and came up against a door rather than the curtains of veils they had been passing through. Gryffon cautiously reached for the handle and jiggled it, but it was locked.

"Well, at least this probably means we're done with the hallway. What now?" Layna asked.

"Maybe I can pick the lock." Gryffon dug in his pockets for a kit full of long thin pieces of metal in different sizes. Layna gave him a suspicious look as he pulled it out, but he simply grinned at her and she couldn't help but smile back, shaking her head.

While he worked, sputtering to himself through the pick he held in his teeth, Layna examined the door. It was a large wooden slab, stained a deep maroon in an arch shape. Around the edge were more of the runes, carved into the wooden frame and painted black. Layna recognized the one from her neck on the very top of the arch and she once more stroked her own mark.

As she stared at it, she suddenly felt as though she knew what to do. She stepped forward, and placed her hands over several of the different runes in a pattern her hand seemed to know. A soft 'click' sounded as the lock snapped into place.

Gryffon made a satisfied grunt. "Nothing to it," he said and he stepped back to admire the unlocked door, unaware of her movements. He glanced back at her, expecting her congratulations, and asked, "What's wrong, you look white as a ghost."

"Nothing, I-" Layna shook her head negatively. "Nothing. Nice job." A chill had found its way into her spine and was slowly working its way through her entire body. Somehow she had known how to open the door, a door in a place that tried to kill you every step of the way. A door in the middle of the Dark King's secret lair. _What is going on with me?_

"Are you ready?" Gryffon asked her and she nodded, not feeling ready at all. He once more laid his hand over the handle and pushed. This time it squeaked its resistance, but yielded under his touch and it turned. Gryffon pushed the door open and stepped through-

-and vanished.

Layna rushed forward to grasp at the air where he had been, but her hands encountered nothing, and the door slammed shut behind her.

An eerie other-worldly voice echoed throughout the room, "Ah, there you are, my dear."

*

Jezebel's fury was like a tiger clawing its way out of her as recognition hit her like a rock. Blood welled up in her mouth as she bit her lip in rage, and she felt a terrible, murderous maelstrom of emotion roil up within her.

The servant girl she was after was standing there dumbly after having just rushed through the opposite door. _That little hussy, that slut, that horrible, awful good-for-nothing..._ Jezebel glared as the girl's eyes met hers and widened in fear.

She had dyed her hair brown, but it was unmistakably the same girl that was ingrained in Jezebel's memory. It made her shake with anger that even with the auburn hair she was still gorgeous.

One of the hounds behind her growled menacingly and nipped at the back of her dress.

She clamped down on her emotions. She didn't want her feelings to overflow into the hounds and have them go berserk. While she wouldn't mind seeing the girl torn to pieces, she wasn't quite ready to unleash them just yet. She would never admit it even to herself, but she was still frightened of the hounds, and unsure of her ability to really control them in this state. She very carefully took a deep breath and resolved to hold out until such time as she could properly show the slut her place.

Her resolve was tested at the King's next words. "I have been searching for you, my dear." The girl looked around stupidly as if he must be talking to someone else, and Jezebel sneered. "It was fate that you and I were to meet, you know."

"What are you talking about? Where is Gryffon?" the girl blurted, finally finding her voice.

"The man is of no consequence; he is not one of us and so was not permitted to enter. But you, you are one of us. You bear the mark, do you not?" he asked in a knowing tone.

The girl didn't answer, but her hand flew to her neck in an unconscious motion, and the King smiled at her silent acknowledgment. Jezebel's ears perked up at the mention, and she leaned forward eagerly to hear the explanation, her anger dulled slightly with curiosity.

"I knew you did. I can feel it. You've been strangely vague to me, but I now see the interference is the charm you're wearing around your neck."

He raised a hand and the offending charm floated up off her chest and into the air. It jerked forward as if pulled, snapping the clasp off. It moved forward a couple feet and then the King flung his fingers out in a quick motion. The charm exploded.

Jezebel's eyes widened as it shattered into a million pieces and suddenly she could feel the power emanating off the girl. Jealousy mixed with hatred as she realized just how strong this little hussy was.

One of the hounds bayed ominously behind her. She ground her teeth together, and her hands curled into balls. _How dare someone I hate so much be so much stronger than I am! No, no she can't be,_ Jezebel told herself _, it must be some sort of trick, there is no way that this stupid little peasant can be better than me. What is going on here? Why is the King acting as though this is the girl he's been looking for? What does the mark have to do with anything? The little whore can't possibly have been consorting with the King as well as Gryffon could she?_

Confusion and frustration mixed with her anger, and Jezebel felt her control slipping. Now would be the perfect time to strike, her inner voice said, whilst the King is so intent upon this little slut. She'd take care of them both right here, right now. Then she could go back and claim her rightful place as ruler of the kingdom, announcing that the King's unfitness for the throne had prompted him to attack her when she confronted him with it, but her superior talent had overtaken him, and she had reluctantly been forced to kill him in his murderous guilty rage.

"What is your name?" the King was asking the girl, who answered in a halting and trembling voice as though the word was being pried from her throat.

"Layna."

Hearing the whore's name spoken was too much for her. Jezebel didn't care what the King's plans were anymore. She didn't need to hear anymore from either of them. She was going to kill this little slut for messing up her plans so many times.

She was going to kill them all.

Red haze swam before her eyes and she watched the proceedings with growing hatred, all sanity lost from her.

*

"Layna," the man repeated, rolling the word around in his mouth as though tasting it. "Join me, Layna. I can feel that you are one too. The same blood runs in our veins, powerful blood that is meant to rule. We are pure, with the blood of the Dark King. We are superior. Look."

He pulled back the collar of his cloak which had previously obscured his neck, and revealed that just as Layna did, this man bore the same mark. His was blood red, and Layna recoiled at the thought that this man should have anything in common with her.

She could feel the black aura emanating from him, seeping out like a black liquid, and she shook her head numbly. Jezebel stood next to the man and Layna shuddered, unable to control the physical reaction her fear of the woman caused. The evil coming from her was almost palpable as well. Layna felt dirty being so close to the two of them.

"They will never accept what we are, Layna. We must show them what their place is in life, and start a new race of superior beings like we're supposed to. They will always fear us because they don't understand. Your place is with me."

Layna had no idea what was going on. _Where was Gryffon? He just disappeared into thin air! Why is this man saying that I'm like him? Who is he? And why is Jezebel here? I'm nothing like either of them, or the Dark King!_ She paused and had an unsettling thought _. But she had just opened the door, what if._.. "What is it you think we are?" Layna asked, both out of terrified curiosity and in the desperate hope that in the time it bought her as he talked, some genius plan would occur to her to get her out of this mess.

"We are the descendants of the Dark King," he told her, "the true royal bloodline. He placed upon us this mark so we could always be identified as the superior race - the race that he meant to re-populate the planet once the unworthy were disposed of. We have the power in us stronger than any others can dream of, and he made improvements to our senses and our minds. We hear better, see better, feel better, and even taste and smell better than the common man. You must have noticed your superior nature. We hold magical improvements within us which once properly unlocked will make us unstoppable!" The man was gaining in volume, waving his hands about excitedly as he explained to her. "We can even delve into his memories if we can find the key! Think of it, he was so powerful as to have been thought a god, and we could have this power ourselves! You must have felt the familiarity of this place, like you had been here before? It's because you have, it's in our blood. The secrets that our blood holds are immense. Together we will unlock those secrets. The key is hidden right here in this tomb. All we need to do is take it! Then we can rule together and bring back the powerful magics of old, and finish the work of the great Dark King to rid the world of the unworthy and take our place as the superior race to wake the Sleeping God."

The hellhounds were growling louder now and Layna spared a glance in Jezebel's direction as she listened incredulously to the man's tirade. She was surprised to see that Jezebel had stopped glaring at her, and was now glaring at the man with new hatred in her eyes, her fists clenching and unclenching as he spoke.

"And what if I did join you, what about her?" Layna asked, pointing her chin in Jezebel's direction, wildly grasping at a thin hope of a plan.

The man hardly spared Jezebel a look. "She is nothing compared to us," he answered callously. "Sometimes too much inbreeding in the stock produces ones like her, and the only thing to do with them is cull them out of the gene pool once they have served their usefulness. But you, you are pure and powerful. I can see the way now, and it must be you who takes the place by my side. Such strength and such beauty you possess."

The hellhounds were practically foaming at the mouth now, and Jezebel looked ready to blow herself. "You aren't even a purebred royal!" Jezebel screeched at him with poison on her tongue. "You are just a good-for-nothing bastard who lied his way to the top! You don't deserve to be King! And that that _whore_ is not better than me!"

Her voice rose to a high-pitched frenzy, and the man looked back at her casually, "You are one to talk about honesty," he commented, "I don't think you even know the meaning of the word truth. 'Bastard' you call me? I have the blood of the Dark King running through my veins. Being a relative of Edward is meaningless. The Dark King is the only true royal, and he would be ashamed to have a descendant such as you."

One of the hellhounds jumped forward, biting at the air. "How dare you!" Jezebel screamed and leaped forward herself, her hands outstretched with tiny fires burning on her fingertips.

The man didn't bat an eye, but waved his arm in Jezebel's direction. She went flying against the opposite wall as though struck by a giant invisible hand. She hit the stone with a thud, and fell in a heap to the floor.

The man turned his attention back to Layna. "So," he continued as though he had never been interrupted, "Will you join me?"

"No, no I don't think that I will," Layna answered and burst into motion. She grabbed for the power while leaping away from the spot she had just occupied.

She was not quite fast enough, and she gasped in pain as a stalactite brushed up against her back in its fall to the floor after being severed from the ceiling by a bolt of lightning that burst forth from the man's fingers. It removed several layers of skin and she heard the fabric of her tunic ripping.

The man lashed out at her a second time and rocks exploded all around him as he triggered traps that were then smashed and deflected by his magical barriers.

Light flashed by Layna's head to explode into the wall, creating a huge crater. Layna spun around to face him, throwing her hands up in a feeble attempt to fend off the next barrage of power that he threw at her.

The barrier she was able to erect bowed under the pressure of the force he was throwing at her. She fell to her knees, feeling bruises starting already as they harshly hit the rock below. She moaned in pain and effort as the barriers slowly collapsed in on her, and tendrils of the light licked at her hungrily, burning her like acid wherever they touched.

The man suddenly gave a howl of pain and the onslaught paused, giving Layna a chance to recoup. She dragged herself to her feet, crawling behind a large outcropping of rock that had fallen.

She looked back at the man and saw that a hellhound was clamped onto his arm. He swung it wildly around, trying to get the beast off.

"How dare you set your beasts on me!" the man raged as he attempted to dislodge the hound. Layna saw with surprise that it was the hound she had freed, Weylyn. She could feel the difference in his aura.

The King finally got him to let go by throwing him roughly against a wall with a strength that was greater than any normal man. Weylyn hit the stone with such force that Layna heard bones snapping, and he fell limply to the ground with a whimper.

Layna cried out for him and as she watched, he tenaciously pulled himself to his feet with difficulty. Layna let out a moan of pity for the poor creature, and willed him with all her might to understand her urgent mind plea. - _Find Gryffon!_ -

The creature cocked his head sideways at her and she redoubled her efforts, thinking as hard as she could about Gryffon's face.

Several others of the beasts growled and had started to lunge at the man as well, spurred on by Weylyn's attack. The man held up a hand, stopping them in midair, and Weylyn snaked out around behind her while he was preoccupied, giving Layna a frantic sense of hope that Gryffon would come to her rescue.

The man brought his other hand up and pointed at Jezebel, who had pulled herself to her feet. She hastily raised her own arms and sent bursts of fire towards him, while weaving a shield of fire before her.

The two were locked in a battle of wills for a long moment before the tables turned in favor of the man. Slowly, but surely, his lightning made its way down the path towards her, eating away at her fire.

Finally, it reached her and she gave a strangled cry, the fire around her flashing into nonexistence. The man let his lightning fade as well and he watched her with an evil smile.

Jezebel looked down at her hands and shook them as if trying to rid them of something foul, and she gave another cry.

The man laughed, and Jezebel's head snapped up towards him, the hatred now so intense on her face that Layna could have sworn that her eyes had turned black.

Jezebel screamed and threw herself at the man, clawed fingers outstretched as though she would tear him limb from limb with her bare hands.

She didn't make it two steps, however, before the first of the hellhounds pounced on her. Layna reached towards her with the power, and found to her amazement that Jezebel's channels had been burned raw. Layna saw, as clearly as the hellhounds must, that Jezebel's control over them was practically nonexistent in her exposed magical state.

The first buried its teeth into her arm and yanked, and Jezebel screamed in agony as it tore off a huge chunk of flesh. Blood poured out and splashed onto the ground. Jezebel brought her other hand around to cover the wound, but a second hound clamped down on that arm and shook its head in a morbid game of tug-o-war. Layna felt a splash of wetness on her face and she turned her head away, nauseated.

More of the hounds were surrounding Jezebel now, and Layna tried to use her power to ward them off, but had to abandon her efforts as the man resumed his attack on her. Jezebel's screams as the hellhounds ripped apart her flesh echoed dully in Layna's ears as she once again fought to keep the man at bay.

The screams finally ended in a gurgled moan, and Layna almost lost the contents of her stomach as she caught a glimpse of the remains the hounds had left. Her distraction gave the man the edge he needed, and he broke through her defenses.

Layna's world erupted into pain. The pain was all she knew, her heart beat pain through her veins, every breath was a dagger being stabbed into her lungs, and the air burned at her skin as a caustic gas would.

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. Layna panted, kneeling on the ground on all fours.

"You are strong," the man commented to her. He strolled over to where she whimpered on the ground, and he knelt beside her. He lifted her chin so he could look her in the face. He tilted his head to the side, examining her, and then roughly dropped her chin again and stood. "But not strong enough to withstand me. Join me or die. Those are your only options."

Layna felt blood welling in her mouth and she spat it at his feet in answer. _I will not be like them. I don't care about the mark on my neck. I am NOT THEM!_ She jutted her chin out stubbornly and stared him down.

His eyes darkened and he sighed. "So be it." He lifted a hand and the pain returned. Layna wished for it to end, waiting for the light they always said would appear when you died so she could run for it with open arms. She would welcome death to stop the pain, and she willed it to happen.

A bright light filled Layna's sight, and she felt the warm glow of it enveloping her. She reached for it happily and it surrounded her, a white peace which she sank gratefully into. The pain faded to a dull memory, and she drifted through space and time with no concept of either.

Something familiar tugged at her consciousness and she let the thought through, opening her eyes to her surroundings. The entire landscape was white, and tiny sparkles filled the air with a strange sense of pattern to their movement.

As she watched, Layna decided that these sparkles must be some kind of spirit being, perhaps to guide her to her final destination. They floated closer and closer to her, and then converged around her. As they did so she felt the pain of her body returning and she silently begged them to keep her there.

A cloud formed of the sparkles, forming a shape vaguely like a glowing human and it shook its head solemnly. It took her hand and she felt as though she was falling, falling back into a very real body, a body with very real sensations. She heard the beating of a heart, deep thumping as it pumped blood around and Layna flowed back in with it, every bruise and every cut searing with pain as she became aware of them once more.

She took a gasping breath and opened her eyes. Gryffon's face was before hers, a worried look creasing his brow. It brightened as she blinked at him, and she breathed, "Gryffon."

"Layna," he answered, "Come back to us."

She coughed, and Gryffon supported her as she hacked up blood. "That's attractive," she commented with a weak smile in an effort to make light of her agony.

Gryffon chuckled slightly and rubbed her back. "You always are, beautiful." Layna looked up at him and could have sworn that on his shoulder sat a tiny black dragon. When she shook her head to clear it, closing and then opening her eyes again, it was gone.

Weylyn came limping forward to lick her face and she laughed, wishing she had the strength to heal the poor thing who had so courageously and loyally tried to save her.

"What happened to you?" she asked Gryffon. "Did Weylyn find you?"

Gryffon gave her a bewildered look and shrugged. "When I walked through the door I was transported into a chamber which started pouring poisonous gas in at me. I was sure I was a goner as I couldn't see any openings or any way to escape. I don't know what happened, but one minute I was gagging for air, and the next I was in here with the hound and then you appeared before me looking like death and not breathing. Wherever here is," he added absently.

"It's the tomb of the Dark King," Layna exclaimed, her adrenaline making her voice sound hysterical. "It really is, and the mark means that I am his descendant and-"

Gryffon shushed her, "Hush now. You need rest to regain your strength, answers will come soon enough. I don't know what happened in there, but you are in no shape to tell me at the moment."

She had no strength to argue so she said simply, "Jezebel is gone. Her hellhounds ripped her apart, but I think there's way more going on here than we thought."

"Jezebel?" Gryffon asked in surprise. Layna trembled at the image burned in her mind, and Gryffon staved off his curiosity and held her close.

"Shh, shh," he comforted her, "It's all over now."

Layna wiped away her tears. "I don't think it is, Gryffon. I think it's just the beginning. Jezebel was a pawn in the game. The player who controls the pieces is way worse than her. I think," Layna said haltingly, "that the man with her that I just faced, was the King-"

Her tentative words were cut short by a thunderous explosion followed by crashing sounds and Gryffon said urgently, "We have to get out of here. Now."

As gently as possible, he threw Layna over his shoulder with an apology when she professed her lack of strength to walk, and he hurried after the hound who had taken off through a winding passageway sloping upwards.

Dust was billowing up from below and the crashing drew closer. As Layna watched, the roiling cloud of dust surged towards them. From her vantage point on top of Gryffon's shoulder, she forgot the dull pain that spread through her with every jolting step, as the fear that they weren't going to make it took hold.

Miraculously, the hound burst forward through a seemingly solid rock wall and Gryffon charged through with it, sucking in the fresh air of the surface.

They tumbled to the ground as the cave behind them collapsed, showering them with rock shards. Gryffon threw his body over hers, shielding her from the shrapnel.

They lay there panting on the ground, staring dumbfounded at their narrow escape when another explosion sounded, and as they watched the cave seemed to implode in on itself. The rock melted into a solid block, and the ground around it seemed to sink a few inches down. A horrible shock wave of power flowed over them.

The wave hit Layna with formidable force and the world blackened around her.
CHAPTER 35

King Nathair roared his considerable rage at the loss. Some force of magic had managed to get around his barriers and wrench the girl Layna from him.

He kicked Jezebel's mangled body for the distraction she had caused him. He had meant for Jezebel to be the girl's first test, a ritual killing of the former position-holder as a symbol of the girl taking her place by his side. _Had I known that the girl was the one Jezebel has been so obsessed with...but no matter, now I know who she is. And she is even more impressive to have gone against a mistress as vicious as Jezebel, and to have risen to be the formidable power wielder she now is without training. Curse Jonathan for having reverted to his drug habit and ending his usefulness before having further investigated the girl when he first found out. If only I'd known earlier it was her, I could have gotten her before she even left the city_.

Though she was still not nearly as powerful as he, and not even close to her potential, he wanted her more than ever at this revelation of her strength of character as well as the potential he could sense in her since the removal of the charm. She was perfect for his purposes. She was closed off to him now, but he would find her again. When he did, he would be prepared for it.

He shook off this minor set-back and turned to face the massive door behind him. Only those bearing the mark were allowed to enter these sacred chambers, any unworthy trying to get in would find themselves transported into less hospitable areas – as that man with his girl had found.

He walked towards the door with reverence, and reached out a hand to stroke the wood in veneration of the great man who had once walked these hallways, and whose body was entombed inside.

Nathair had spent countless years trying to find out how to open these doors, and had finally found the key. Without care, he dragged Jezebel's limp and bloody form to the door and laid her mangled hand on the pedestal on the left. He made his way to the one on the right, and murmured the words of power which would unlock the door.

It had been fortunate, the timing of his finding this key and his discovery that the one he had been searching for was in the very same city as the tomb. He had hoped to have her open the door with him willingly, and together they could have reaped the rewards of the mysteries revealed in this chamber.

But no matter, Jezebel's mark was pure enough to complete the spell, however impure the rest of her was, and the lock clicked open. The door opened upon creaking hinges, causing sweet musky air to pour out in a great cloud of dust.

Nathair stepped forward eagerly, and sent out mage lights to illuminate the great tomb of his ancient lord. The mage lights brightened the room in their passage to take places in each of the corners of the chamber, and lit it to reveal a vast open space.

The room was empty.

Fire and fury built up inside Nathair. _All those years of searching only to find that the chamber has been emptied before my arrival!_

Nathair felt the power begin to grow within him as he opened himself fully to it, letting it flow inside like a dam suddenly being burst open, handling the rushing flow with ease. He redirected this power to form a glowing ball, a physical manifestation of the energy.

He transported himself out of the caverns, leaving behind this destructive mass of power. It was so unstable that his disruption of the magic forces by his spell to transport set it off, triggering every trap there was in the place.

A huge explosion sounded behind him and Nathair smiled in grim satisfaction, his anger flowing away with the remainder of power as he loosened his grip on it.

These disappointments were discouraging, but only served to strengthen his resolve and determination to find a way to eventually accomplish his goal. He was a patient man, and smart enough to learn from his mistakes. Next time he would not fail.

He lifted the body he had transported out with him onto the back of the horse that was waiting for him, and mounted himself. _Oh yes, next time I will be victorious. I have had many titles; Lord, Master, King, and soon...God_.

Nathair smiled as he whirled his horse around, and he rode off into the darkness.
CHAPTER 36

When Layna woke, she found that she was wrapped snugly in a blanket. She had been laid near a warm and crackling fire, though the night air itself was comfortable. Weylyn was curled up at her feet and she lifted a hand to pat his head.

Gryffon noticed her movement and came over, pushing a spoon filled with broth against her lips. She ate it with vigor and he handed her the bowl, helping her to carefully sit up. She felt completely drained, but was no longer in constant agony, and she set to finishing the broth with relish.

"You know," she said when she had licked the bowl clean, "I'm getting a little sick of this whole being knocked unconscious thing. I'm starting to miss just being a maid."

Gryffon laughed. "Well, I'm glad to see that your sense of humor is returning. But just think, if you were still a maid, you would only be reading about exciting adventures like these instead of being right in the thick of them."

"Exactly. Who was it that said an interesting life could be a curse?"

Just then, Layna saw with happy surprise that Charles was coming towards them from the woods. He sat down beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder in a fatherly manner.

"I sure am glad to see you feelin' better," he told her, "The world would have been a much sadder place without you." She was touched by this gesture and his words, which amazingly she had been able to understand all of. Charles had been easier to understand of late, and Layna wondered if it was him that was changing, or her.

None of them spoke for some time until finally Charles blurted without tact, "What the blazes happened in there?"

Gryffon took up the narration, describing the events that had occurred since Charles had left them. He ended where he had stepped through the door and been transported, and Layna bubbled forth with her own account.

When they had finished, Charles looked thoughtful. "Well, I ain't one for pushin' my kibitz, but it sure sounds to me like you two better skeedattle. That energumen is crazy, and I, for one, ain't wastin' any tears on the demon lady." The old Charles was back. Layna hadn't a clue what he had said.

"I agree," said Gryffon, obviously having better luck than Layna in interpreting his speech. "I think it would be much safer for us if we disappeared for a while. Didn't you offer us a hiding spot up north?"

"Oh, aye. It's only a huntin' cottage, but it would serve you right good. Up in the middle of the North Woods, so you'd have to be careful o' the nasties comin' down from the Ferryn Plains, but the untamed magics there should do you well to hide your own talents too. This new foe'll never find ya."

"Perhaps we should take you up on that offer. Though hiding out in the woods won't get us any answers." He paused in thought before turning to Layna. "So he confirmed that having this mark was some sort of symbol that he claims means you're a descendant of the Dark King?"

Layna nodded mutely, unable to put into words the fear she felt. _If the man -the King!- had been telling the truth, maybe I am tainted with evil that I can't deny. It's in my blood._ She fidgeted uncomfortably _. It makes sense! Terrifying, sickening sense. How else would I have known my way around in the dungeons? Or known how to open the door in the secret underground fortress? How can I escape my own blood?_

Horrible guilt at the sinister meaning of the mark crept into her thoughts, and she felt herself withdrawing. She did not want to spread her curse to Gryffon or Charles, and she found she was unable to counter the morbid reasoning.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Gryffon, who raised his hand to the scar on his chest. "Are you alright?" Layna asked him immediately.

He nodded with his eyes closed, obviously bearing his pain silently. After a moment he let out the breath he had been holding and opened his eyes.

Layna looked at him with concern, but he waved it away and continued on, "I think I can get a message past the barrier there, and maybe we can get some answers that way. If we explain the situation, I don't see how they could not share some information."

"We can't just go to Treymayne ourselves?" Layna offered, though the idea terrified her.

She had the growing urge that something needed to be done. If she was going to have any chance of stopping the evil inside her from growing, she had to do something about stopping the evil in the world from escalating. Action had to be taken to make everyone aware of the darkness that was spreading so that those who had the means could counter it. But they were only two people. _And he is the King._.. _we need help_.

Gryffon squirmed. "We could try, but it may not be that easy. It's quite a formidable barrier. Not to mention the mountain pass and river that serve as natural barriers as well. There's good reason that we've been able to isolate ourselves so effectively."

"But if we made it there, they would protect you? And would they listen to you?"

"Yes."

"Then we need to try! We can't just go hide in the woods when we have information that people need to know! If we just sit back and let it happen, we could witness first-hand the reawakening of the Dark Age! Just look at how evil Jezebel was, and she didn't even turn out to be the worst of them! There's something huge and sinister going on here, and we need to stop it. And in order to stop it, we need help. If you think that your countrymen will help us," she held out her hands to him, begging him to understand her fear.

He seemed taken aback by her conviction. He set his lips firmly together and nodded once. "You're right. It wouldn't be right to hide. We'll go to Treymayne and we'll tell them what we know."

They discussed the details of their plan for a while, deciding to try the crossing over the mountain at the northern pass, likely to be less heavily guarded as it was itself so treacherous. Natural dangers didn't scare Layna nearly as much as what they had after them. They would have to cross the Great River as well, but once they reached Treymayne they would be safe.

There they could pass along their information to the Treymayne officials, and to leave it in their well-equipped hands to deal with the growing threat of a reawakening of the Dark Age. When they had a tentative plan of action, they each took to their beds, though uneasy thoughts kept them all awake well into the night.

Layna eventually fell to sleep and tumultuous dreams overtook her, visions of black clad figures doing unthinkable deeds.

Their cloaks seemed to flow together, forming a raging black river, and she felt as though she was being washed down it, unable to gain any control over her motion.

She was thrown up onto the shore, coughing violently as she crawled on all fours away from the dreaded water. Her hand hit something cold and hard and she gasped in horror as she saw that it was Gryffon, bleeding profusely from a terrible wound, deep red blood forming a stream of its own down into the river, turning it all the same dark red.

A mirror appeared and she saw herself in it, smiling evilly under a black hood, holding a dripping dagger.

Layna's dream self screamed and threw the mirror to the ground, shattering it, only to raise her hands in horror as they too dripped with deep red blood.

The eyes in the mirror shards watched her, knowing laughter behind them. A terrible scream pierced her very being, and she tumbled into a black abyss.

Darkness. She was surrounded by darkness.

Where was she?

She tried to move, but she couldn't. Her legs pumped wildly underneath her, but the black shadow surrounding her persisted and she remained in utter darkness.

"Hello?" she called out. Her voice sounded empty, and it echoed off of unseen walls.

"Hello?" came a voice calling back – her own echo again, but eerily delayed.

And then another, a demonic growling hiss.

"Hello."

She screamed and tried to flee with terror filling her senses, and this time she was practically thrown forward into a tunnel of light.

She fell faster and faster into it.

Her eyes adjusted to the brightness and she looked into it happily, glad for the comfort that light offered. The comfort soon turned again to fear as she realized that it was filled with snakes at the end.

Their glowing red eyes were looking up at her hungrily. They squirmed around each other in a massive ball of slithering mouths, open wide awaiting her fall into their midst.

She recoiled and tried to backpedal her way out of the tunnel, but it had turned upright and she was now in a free fall towards them, completely helpless to stop her descent.

They swirled around one another faster and faster in their excitement and then pressed into one another, forming a new shape.

A huge dragon rose out from the living nest and opened its mouth wide, swallowing her up. As darkness closed in around her again, the giant jaws clamping shut around her, she felt strangely calm.

Then she was at Mila's. And Gryffon was there. Mila was trying to tell her something, but no sound was coming out. She heard only silence. Mila was waving her arms wildly about, and a look of terror appeared on her face as Gryffon took a step towards her.

Her limbs moved involuntarily and she saw herself raise her arms towards Gryffon, whose easy smile wavered at her motion. She felt the power well up inside her, and could sense its fatal purpose. She tried to scream for Gryffon to get away from her, that she couldn't stop what she was doing, but she was as mute as Mila.

Gryffon just gave her a puzzled look and cocked his head to the side. The power was nearly radiating from her now and she could only watch in horror as her own hands flew forward, throwing the destructive energy at Gryffon.

His face barely had time to register his surprise before it twisted into agony, and his shirt melted away to reveal his mark, burning brightly as it greedily soaked up the energy. The stream of power held steady between them, feeding into the mark, which glowed brighter and brighter and then horribly started eating away at his flesh. He screamed and screamed, but the world remained silent.

She felt tears escaping her, and had to blink them away to see clearly as Gryffon's body was rent apart by the gaping black hole in his chest. Even after the life had left him, the power flowed from her and she felt sobs wrack her body.

Mila came to stand by her, and she looked at her pleadingly, wondering why she had not stopped her.

Mila solemnly held up another mirror. In it, she could she herself, a grotesque grin on her face, so out of place with her eyes puffy from crying. Her eyes looked mad, and tiny fires danced in her pupils.

As she watched, the eyes slanted and tilted to become more like a cat's, and her skin turned a deep blue, sprouting scales. A long snake's tongue flicked out beneath the grin, and she caught a glimpse of canine teeth.

She started to itch and she clawed at her skin, ripping away her clothes only to realize that the scales had sprung up all over her body which was molding itself into something she didn't recognize.

She threw her head back and let out a howl as pain exploded in her back, and two wiry wings tore out of her and beat the air, throwing Mila back against the wall.

She could feel that she was growing, and she was suddenly aware of a hunger. A hunger that couldn't be denied. Mila was pulling herself to her feet, and she lunged at the woman, biting her head off in one neat swipe. She swallowed it whole and went back for the rest, catching the body and ripping it apart with expert speed before it even hit the ground.

It hardly dulled the ache of the hunger.

She looked around and realized that the house was growing smaller around her as she took her true form. She burst it apart with a mighty thrust of her wings and blew fire from her snout to incinerate the rest.

Then she took to the air, looking for food.

No part of her remembered what she once was.

Layna woke with a start. She was covered in a cold sweat and her breathing was coming in rapid shallow pants...they needed to find help, and soon.

* * *

Continue the trilogy:

Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2)

Leoht (BloodRunes: Book 3)

BOOKS BY LAURA R COLE

The Eleventh World Saga:

BloodRunes Trilogy

Unleashed Fury

Those Who Fear the Darkness

Leoht

The Forgotten Trilogy

Serpent's Lair

Bricrui

Light the Reign

Connect with the author: www.laurarcole.com

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