Copy Link
Add to Bookmark
Report
DargonZine Volume 23 Issue 03
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 23
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 3
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
\\
\
========================================================================
DargonZine Distributed: 09/28/10
Volume 23 Number 3 Circulation: 643
========================================================================
Contents
Editorial Jon Evans
Hogtied D'Artagnon Wells Mertz 15, 1019
A Second Chance Rena Deutsch Yule 25, 1017
========================================================================
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of The Dargon Project, Inc.,
a collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
Please address all correspondence to <dargon@dargonzine.org> or visit
us on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/, or our FTP site
at ftp://ftp.dargonzine.org/. Issues and public discussions are posted
to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
DargonZine 23-3, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright 28 September, 2010 by
The Dargon Project, Inc. Editor: Jon Evans <thegodling@verizon.net>,
Assistant Editor: John White <john.white@DREXEL.EDU>.
DargonZine is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs-
NonCommercial License. This license allows you to make and distribute
unaltered copies of DargonZine, complete with the original attributions
of authorship, so long as it is not used for commercial purposes.
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
To view a detailed copy of this license, please visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0 or send a letter to
Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford CA, 94305 USA.
========================================================================
Editorial
by Jon Evans
thegodling@verizon.net
Through a bizarre series of connections, I found myself at an
interesting wedding last weekend. Very posh, very well-to-do, and very
expensive. Among other notable faces in the mid-Atlantic region, I had
the pleasure of speaking with the editor of Style magazine for a bit,
and we hashed on challenges of the publishing world, though from
differing perspectives. The most notable contradictions were based on
the difference between a profession and a hobby. As the Editor, he has
financial authority which compels his writers to produce the content he
dictates, but he also has to worry about the financial viability and
competitiveness of the magazine. He has a significant marketing staff
and budget; however, a poor decision can result in loss of funds and
even possibly loss of future advertising revenue. From a monetary
standpoint, my job is much easier as I do not have those worries.
Conversely, I also cannot compel my teammates to produce -- they are
volunteers, and as such, have the pleasure of writing at their leisure.
Fortunately, DargonZine is not a financial organization that must
compete or die.
It was these (admittedly brief) discussions that brought me back to
DargonZine, however, and the marketing drives we have initiated in the
past. What different tasks can we take to make our presence more public?
What are viable options for a relatively unfunded entity to get its name
known? I am not simply asking rhetorical questions, here. If you have
ideas, please feel free to contact me. I welcome the discussion. At the
very least, if you are a fan of DargonZine, tell your friends! Spread
the word! We are digging up some old plans and ideas that we never fully
embraced previously, but make much more sense (to me, at least) now that
we have roused ourselves again.
Meanwhile, issue three of the 2010 year is upon us. D'artagnon
Wells brings us Hogtied, which continues the story of the warrior-mage
Kiev, and the mystical trio of Vable, Tanbry, and Arvyn. The second
story is another one from Rena Deutsch. Second Chances is a bit of a
Dargon ghost story, reuniting us Simona and her friends. As ever, we
wish you good reading. Enjoy!
-J
========================================================================
Hogtied
by D'Artagnon Wells
dartagnonwells@gmail.com
Mertz 15, 1019
Kiev brought his head around, trying to pry his leaden eyelids open
only to have his eyes stabbed by the angry sun. The forest along the
path leading him back to Dargon at long last, he couldn't tell what was
going on or what had happened the past few days, but he knew he was
being brought back to Dargon. That much he remembered.
He took a closer look at his situation and found himself strapped
down to crossed timbers in the back of a wagon. The sky rocked back and
forth with the wagon as it lulled to and fro along the uneven path.
"Piss," he muttered. He tried bringing his hand to his head but
found it strapped down. "Damnation."
He eyed at the rows of knees on either side of him, covered in the
blue cloth of the Dargon Guard. When the passing shade allowed his eyes
to focus he saw they were all toting axes and crossbows.
"Double piss," he swore.
"You're awake!" A male voice exclaimed.
"Not by choice. Driver? Could you find a less tumultuous path? My
guests and I are sorely uncomfortable."
He heard someone mutter, "Ignore him." He imagined the driver was
looking to see if he should really find another path.
"Hey, I would love to pick your brain, if you don't mind." A face
came into view, blocking the biting sun. The man's hair was long and
hanging in his face framing his intense brown eyes.
"Excuse me?" Kiev was really confused.
"I've been looking over your trinkets and weapons and am thoroughly
impressed and baffled at the same time." The man's brown eyes sparkled
with mischief at the mere mention of Kiev's possessions.
"Arvyn, back away and stop talking to him," the all-business voice
from the front of the wagon scolded Arvyn.
"But I --"
"Back, away."
"Fine," Arvyn sighed. The ecstatic scarecrow sat back in his seat.
"Hey, does anyone have water? I am feeling a bit parched."
"You have a smart mouth for someone in your position." Again, the
smooth, angry voice scolded from the front of the wagon.
"You know," Kiev started, "you have poor manners for someone in
your position. It's rude talking to a guest over one's shoulder."
The wagon stopped. Kiev could hear a figure walking around to the
back of the wagon.
"Everyone out. You two stand by at his legs. If they turn to
anything other than flesh, chop them off at the knees."
Kiev tried looking around to get a look at the talking face, but
the sun was still very persistent. The man hopped into the wagon, walked
to Kiev and put his knee roughly in Kiev's chest.
"Piss!" Kiev grunted.
"My name is Vable Cortinas. You may not remember the past few
bells. Well, to be honest, you may not have memory of the past few days.
You are in the back of a wagon heading to Dargon to stand trial for
crimes against the duchy. Currently you are strapped down to pine
timbers with hemp. What do you know about pine?" Kiev could make out the
man's shaved head. He was like a bigger, angrier version of the
scarecrow that was fawning over him earlier.
"It smells pretty," Kiev grunted.
"Cute. It's a very soft wood. While you may still have the ability
to morph into the wood or the hemp, understand that the men escorting
you back here are armed with crossbows and axes with the order firmly
placed inside their regal minds to split you into kindling should you
try. I have no patience for your mouth or your attitude. When we make
camp, you will be fed your rations and you will remain quiet. If you
cannot shut that mouth of yours I will find a way that is both painful
and effective."
"Oooh. I like it rough, so don't tease." Air was being forced out
under Vable's persistent knee.
Vable smiled. "Have it your way." He placed his hands around Kiev's
neck. The captured battle mage struggled at first, but only for a moment
before the world went dark.
Kiev woke some bells later, dusk was setting and the headache was
sticking around with a vengeance. The camp was just off the path in a
small clearing. The trail they were taking cut along the base of a
foothill, bare save for the granite boulders that notoriously peppered
the Dargon landscapes. The small hill drenched the campsite in a frigid
shadow from the sun continuing its dip past the eastern horizon.
The escorting guard dug a hole to prop the battle mage upright, the
area immediately around hole was cleared of debris and rocks and lined
with torches around the perimeter. Kiev suspected he would be watched
over closely throughout the night.
A few cubits away was a man armed with a crossbow trying to look
menacing.
"You piss someone off to pull this detail? Or did you just draw the
short straw?"
The guard didn't flinch or give any indication he heard the
captive.
"Hey princess, you have any water?" Kiev called out again.
"I do." The guard lifted the water skin and took a long, slow pull
from it, then let out a relishing sigh after he swallowed. "It's
delicious, thank you."
"You're a prat."
The guard smiled, pleased with himself.
The bells marched slowly on, shedding Kiev's headache slowly away
while moving the pain to his extremities. His hands had gone to sleep a
few times and were getting harder to revive with each episode.
Eventually, after three guard changeovers and the sun dropping out
completely, a woman brought him some food. She was a petite brunette,
dressed in an assortment of earth-toned robes. Along with a plate of
food, she carried a tall stool.
"How are you feeling then?" she asked.
"What do you care?"
"I'm your physician, of sorts. It's my job to ask."
"You know, I feel fabulous. A sennight ago I had no sort of
sensation in my wrists, but now, there is this throbbing, incessant
pain. I think I'm doing better. Do I have you to thank for this riveting
new therapy?" The fugitive had nothing but frivolous excitement in his
voice. Not wanting anyone to have the satisfaction of his discomfort, he
opted instead to infuriate them with his bright personality.
The path of peaceful resistance was often the best course of
action.
"My brother said you were funny," she said, flatly.
"Brother?"
"I'm Tanbry. Vable is my brother."
"Vable, Vable ... hmm. No, not ringing any bells, love."
"He's the one who knocked you out." She smirked viciously.
"Oh, the big-talkin' prat with no sense of humor." Kiev grinned.
"Hungry?"
"I really am, but I can't take any food from you. I know they
brought you on this little expedition to cook and clean up after the
boys and feed little ol' me, but you're going to have to stick to
washing the guards' skivvies."
"You haven't eaten in a few days and only just the slightest amount
of water. You need to eat something." She sat the stool in front of him
and got comfortable.
"That's drugged and I'll not be drugged any longer." He dropped the
lightness of his tone slightly.
"This isn't drugged," she scoffed.
"I'd like to take my physician's word on that, but I can't trust
you. You must understand." Kiev smiled.
"Why would I drug you?"
"Why would your ass of a brother do any of the things he's done to
me? Your brother seeks to control and harm me at every turn. You are his
sister ... see where I'm going with this?"
"You need to eat. We need to bring you to Dargon whole and well."
She raised a piece of the bread to his face.
"So I can swing and still look pretty for the duke and his court?"
"If you'd prefer Vable to come back here and feed you, I'm sure
he'd be more than happy to oblige." She got up to leave.
"Let's not be rash. I'm a reasonable fellow and I'm not going to
lie, I am famished. So, you prove the food and water aren't laced with
anything malicious and I'll let you feed me."
"Prove it?" She turned back, curious.
"Yeah. You shake that water up really good and drink some, then eat
the bread and swallow it down. If nothing happens in a mene or two, then
I'll eat it."
"No faith at all," she said jovially.
"None," he laughed.
"Fine." Tanbry retook her seat and shook the water skin, putting
the spout up to her lips.
"No, you got to shoot it into your mouth from a distance so I can
see you are actually drinking."
Tanbry sighed and did as instructed.
"Such a cheater," Kiev laughed. Tanbry swished the water around in
her mouth and swallowed, then tore the bread into two pieces and took a
bite from the middle then washed it down with more water.
"There," she said, clearing her mouth, "satisfied?"
"We'll see in a couple of menes."
"How can you be so ..."
"Charming?" Again with the disarming smile.
"Smug. I was going to say smug." All humor left Tanbry's features.
"I don't follow."
"You're going back to Dargon to face the gallows and you make jokes
and quip asinine remarks like this is the circus."
"What do you think is going on here, Tanbry?" Kiev was now serious
as well.
"Like I said, you're going to be hanged for killing four people."
"I know I didn't do what I'm accused of, I know that the universe
will show me the way to free myself and I won't swing from the duke's
rope."
"You did. You killed four people." Tanbry was incredulous.
"Says who? Were you there? Were you a witness to the act of
violence that took the lives of these people?"
"No, but --"
"But what? People you trust say I'm guilty. Were any of them
present at the time these people died? No. The only thing I am guilty of
is being present when these people died and that is all you know, all
your superiors know. But it doesn't truly matter does it? You're already
convinced, your brother clearly is convinced and I'm sure the duke's
court is already convinced. Your real question is am I comfortable dying
for public opinion."
"It's fact, not opinion." Tanbry's ire was rising.
"What are you? I mean, what do you do? You are not some scullery
maid, are you?" Kiev's eyes bore into her soul.
"I'm a mage," she stated proudly. "I was one of the ones cleaning
up your mess in Dargon the last time you were there. I saw the bodies."
"A mage. So, you're an educated woman?"
"Yes."
"Capable of having your own thoughts and opinions?"
She narrowed her eyes with anger, "Yes."
"You work with the guard? Closely I assume."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"If there was a dispute with a merchant and a customer, whose word
do you take? The shop owner or the customer?"
"Stop, I'm not a child. We question both parties, but that is not
the same thing."
Kiev burst out laughing. "Really? One suspect and one victim, two
sides to a situation and yet it's different. I admit I was there, saw
the whole thing, yet I get discounted when it comes time for judgment.
Get away from me."
"You still need to eat."
"I'd rather starve to death than give your society the pleasure of
hanging me."
"That's ridiculous."
"Little girl, go back to your cross stitch and laundry. Let the
arrogant men continue to think for you since it's such a burden on your
delicate sensitivities."
She dropped the water and food at his feet. "Bastard." Tanbry
grabbed her bench and stormed off, Kiev jeering after her.
Once at the main camp she tossed the stool at the tent, nearly
hitting Vable and Arvyn.
"Hey, what's matter with you?" Vable called after her. He and Arvyn
followed her into the tent. "What happened?"
"Nothing. He just got under my skin, that's all." Tanbry brushed
him off.
"Bastard." Vable made to leave.
"Stop. Just stop it, Vable. Grow up. You going to go choke him
again? What's that going to prove? You can choke a man who's tied up and
can't fight back?" She sat on her cot and put her face in her hands,
exasperated with men in general.
"I didn't choke him, I knocked him out," Vable scoffed.
"Why are we bringing him in? Why haven't we questioned him at all
and gotten all the facts to this?" She looked to her brothers, seeking
answers.
"What's there to know? He's accused of killing Lord Westfahler, Lt.
Darklen saw him kill the man on the docks, and there was no one else in
the alley with the old man except for him. He's not a good man, Tanbry."
Vable was standing in the doorway. A guard was passing by and gave Vable
a sidelong look. "What?" Vable called after him.
"I'm not defending him," Tanbry continued. "I'm questioning the
process. He's going to die for these crimes and I'd like to be able to
live with myself afterwards."
"You want us to question this guy?" Arvyn spoke up, excited.
"Yes. I'd like to get his side of what happened. Before the guard
get a hold of him and beat the confession out of him. And don't act like
it wouldn't happen."
"Once. That was one incident, which the duke rectified. The thing
you fail to accept is, this man is a criminal. He'd say anything to
avoid the fate in store for him back in Dargon. There's no way to tell
whether he's lying."
"Actually," Arvyn stepped forward, "there is."
"Arvyn, no." Tanbry was glaring at her brother.
"What aren't you telling me?" Vable inquired.
"We -- Tanbry and I -- have been working on a talisman of sorts
that can detect lies." The impish light flared in Arvyn's eyes.
"How convenient."
"Hardly," Tanbry started. "It sill causes excruciating pain, is
highly invasive and doesn't *prove* anything."
"How can you say that?" Arvyn argued. "It proves whether or not
they lie."
"Yes, but only to the questions you ask, which are mainly designed
to glean yes and no answers."
"What more is there?" Arvyn asked.
"They are very leading questions and sometimes there is more than
just yes or no. Yes or no isn't enough to establish guilt. And what if
the person didn't do it but just feels really guilty for it, what then?
No, there is so much more needing to be explored and tested before we
try this out in the field."
"You want to hear his side and need to know he's telling the truth.
Yes or no will answer whether he killed these people or not. Did you
kill the old codger in the alley?" Arvyn scrunched his face and puffed
up his chest, dropping his voice an octave, "Yes. Damn straight I did."
"This isn't a joke, Arvyn."
"Who's joking?" Arvyn bit back.
"Yes and no works for me. Let's do it," Vable said.
"Fine," Tanbry spit. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the
tent.
Kiev was looking down at the water, longing for it. Vable told him
he may not remember the past few days and wondered if he'd been given
anything while he was unconscious. His saliva was tepid tar on his
tongue, coating his teeth. No matter how he swallowed, it stuck in his
mouth with an irritating persistence. He heard them arguing, tripping
through the brush toward him. Out the corner of his eye he saw Tanbry.
"Ah, love, you're back and upright. Could you be a peach and give
us a pull from the water skin?" Kiev was all smiles.
Tanbry kicked the skin aside and set a crate at his feet.
"I know you're upset, but it's no reason to treat the water that
way."
"Kiev," she stood on the crate and came up to his height, "this is
not going to be pleasant. Arvyn and Vable are going to ask you some
questions. Please just answer them quickly so this unpleasantness can be
over soon." Tanbry then pulled out a head-sized glass orb.
"What is that?" Kiev was no longer playing coy. He knew well enough
to recognize something imbued with malice and the glass orb looked
dripping with it.
"Please," Tanbry pleaded honestly. She held the orb in her hands
fingers spread and placed it on his forehead then put her head to it as
well. Kiev had the thought to take the opportunity to use the rhythm of
the glass to change, but the pain swept through him, stealing all his
focus. The orb washed away, then the torches. Next, the guard and others
standing around faded out followed by the forest until all that remained
was Tanbry's face through the distortion of the orb.
It was an odd type of pain, like being crushed with a million
dagger points lit on fire, freezing him to death. Tanbry's face was
wrenched in pain as well as she tried to keep the connection stable.
"How is this going to work?" Vable stood over his brother, who was
sitting cross-legged with a makeshift desk in his lap complete with
parchment, quill and inkwell.
"Simple, the questions will be asked. Lies will make the orb go
dark, truths will make it lighten."
"What's Tanbry doing?"
"She's bridging his psyche to the orb so he won't try to sever it."
"And it's really uncomfortable. Get on with it!" Tanbry barked.
"Now, Kiev, I'd like to establish a common ground, so please answer
yes to the following two questions," Arvyn said.
"Toss off," Kiev gritted.
"Is your name Kiev?" Arvyn pushed ahead, unaffected by the insult.
"Yes," Kiev answered.
"And, are you the duke of Armand?"
"Yes." A shadow fluttered across his vision and a heightened pain
shocked him. He refused to scream out, but Tanbry whimpered. Kiev wasn't
sure if she was tougher than she appeared or if she just felt less than
he did. If she was willingly suffering as he, she was one crazy woman.
"Okay, now we're going to work our way backwards. Did you kill the
man on the docks, uh, a man named Rand?"
"Yes."
"Did you kill the woman Allandra?"
"No."
"Did you kill the old man in the alley? The man with one arm?"
"Straight I did."
"Yes or no, please."
"Yes!" he shouted.
"Okay, now, did you kill Lord Westfahler?"
"Y -- n -- no." The shadow played slightly, coinciding with a wave
of pain. Tanbry whimpered again.
"That was a lie, right?" Vable asked Arvyn.
"No, that's ... new. Kiev, did you kill Lord Westfahler?"
"Yes." The shadow played again and another wave of pain. This time
Tanbry screamed.
"What does that mean?" Vable stepped toward his sister.
"It means we should stop this," Arvyn said and stood, stepping in
front of Vable, who grabbed his arm.
"Ask him again."
Arvyn sighed, "Look, this is what Tanbry was talking about
earlier."
"Ask!"
"Did you kill Lord Westfahler?"
"No!" The shadow was darker this time and the pain was too much and
Kiev screamed. Tanbry dropped the orb and fell back into Vable's waiting
arms. Kiev's eyes rolled back and he started to convulse.
"Cut him down!" Tanbry ordered.
"He stays where he is," Vable ordered the advancing guard.
"Then lay down the timbers. He'll die!"
The guards hefted the cross timbers out of the hole and laid it
down gently. Tanbry was there at his side with the water. She pulled a
dagger and sliced the rope binding his head in place.
"Kiev. Kiev can you hear me?" She placed a hand on his chest and
started whispering. The seizure let up and Kiev relaxed. "Kiev?"
"Straight," Kiev whispered, his voice gargling gravel. "I don't
care what they say, the Dargon guard know how to show a man a good time.
Are you okay?"
"Me?" Tanbry's concern gave way to poignant impression. "I'm fine.
How are you?"
"Thirsty."
"Of course." Tanbry brought the water skin to his lips. Kiev drank
slowly then pulled back. "Can you finish the rest of the interview?"
"You keep that damned thing away from me."
"Finish?" Vable asked. "I am finished."
"Then leave." Tanbry bore spite into her brother's eyes. She turned
back to Kiev. "No. No more orb. I'll ask the questions this time. Okay?"
Kiev nodded.
"Good. The woman in the apartment, what happened to her?"
"I was sent to Dargon and a little girl found me. She told me her
mom was in bad shape and when I got to her she was dying. Her husband,
Rand, had beaten her and left her for dead three days prior. She died
before the dragon showed up."
"It wasn't a dragon," Arvyn muttered. The argument still blazed on
after all this time between the brothers as to whether or not the
creature that Kiev killed in Dargon was a dragon or not.
"Shut up," Vable scolded.
"The man on the docks? That was her husband?" Tanbry asked.
"Yes."
"And you killed him?"
"He killed his wife, in front of his daughter. The little girl
stood there, weak and frightened as her father beat her mother to an
inch of her life and then went to work like nothing happened. She lay
there, for three days, dying as he came and went all the while watching
her die. Straight I killed him."
"What gave you the right?" Vable asked.
"What gives you the right?" Kiev asked back.
"The duke."
"What gave him the right? God? Gods? The only *authority* he has is
the luck of the draw. One day, generations ago two men stood on the
battlefield and one man walked away victorious. Ever since that moment,
his progeny have continuously been seen as the conquerors or protectors
and therefore have the hearts and souls of the people they lord over."
"Order is to be maintained. The people give him that authority.
Without his influence and power, our people would be thrust into
anarchy."
"I know you, Vable. You were on the docks the day the Beinison
invaders attacked, weren't you?"
"Proudly."
"Did you kill any of those invaders that day?"
"Yes, in the heat of battle, in the name of the duke, protecting
myself, my family and my land."
"Of course. I killed Rand, in the heat of battle, in the name of
Allandra, protecting justice and a little girl named Rynn."
"That's not the same thing." Vable's conviction wavered.
"Yes it is and one day I will show you."
"What about the man in the alley?" Tanbry cut her brother off,
reclaiming control of the interview.
"His name was Mon-Hyden. It was self-defense."
"Explain."
"I was a member of Saegne, an order of martial mages. Mon-Hyden was
traveling and came across our sect and was disgusted by it. He and a few
others killed twenty of my brothers and sisters before he caught up with
me. He's the one who sent me to Dargon where I finished what he
started."
"And Lord Westfahler?" Vable asked.
"Lord Westfahler." Kiev closed his eyes and sighed. "A few years
ago when I came back to Dargon, the first time, I had reconnected with a
woman I left behind, Serenity. We spent a sennight together, mostly
holed up in her place, making love, eating, watching the stars over the
ocean. Westfahler had been in town a few days before he decided to slum
it down at the Serpent. I remember when he walked in, his eyes almost
immediately landed on Serenity. He came to our table with his lackeys,
puffed up trying to *woo* her. The main thing he was doing was goading
me into a fight. It worked.
"I didn't handle the situation with grace. At all. I broke a few
jaws and noses, and when the fight spilled out to the street they took
her. Westfahler's men said I picked a fight, which I did. Their story
was supported by the locals so I was locked up. Kalen was on shift,
luckily, and I told him what really happened. He let me go, but refused
to help me with Serenity."
"Why?"
"He didn't believe me. Before I found the Saegne I was a barrel of
trouble, so much so I destroyed my relationship with Kalen. He had no
reason to trust me, especially in the face of being arrested.
"Serenity was in the keep, being violated by Westfahler and the
duke wasn't to do anything about it because my cousin thought I was a
lying waste of flesh."
"What happened?"
"An old friend was working in the duke's stables and knew how to
get me in. I took a rope, snuck in and stormed the guest wing of the
keep. When I got there, Westfahler was trying desperately to have his
way with Serenity. I was on him, beating the piss out of him with my
bare hands. Serenity pulled me off when she heard the duke's personal
guard coming. I secured the rope and made to scale the wall when
Westfahler came at me. I ducked and his momentum carried him over my
back and over the wall.
"Gravity killed him just as much as I did, as much as his own
stupidity, malice and pride did. I feel a little responsible, but it
doesn't keep me awake at night."
Vable and Arvyn stood over Kiev, silent. Tanbry gave him some more
water, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
"Piss," Tanbry whispered. She stood up and walked toward the tents.
Arvyn followed slowly after her, picking his bag and the talisman up.
"This changes nothing. You are still going back to Dargon."
"Of course. Duty dictates it."
"Yes, it does."
"It doesn't bother you that if it had been a base commoner over the
edge of a cliff, we wouldn't be having this conversation?"
"That is not true."
"You know it is."
"You don't know me as well as you think you do."
Kiev smiled. "Vable, it's like looking into a mirror. You'll see
what I do soon enough."
Vable motioned to the guards and walked away. The guards set the
cross timbers back in the hole while Kiev called after him.
"Your stark sense of duty will only shield you for so long."
The wind blew gently through the trees, bringing a calm to the
small camp. Vable made his way to the tent where his siblings were
preparing for bed. He looked at Tanbry who turned from his gaze with
disgust.
"This changes nothing."
"Who are you trying to convince?" Arvyn asked.
"We have a job to do. Our loyalty is to the duke."
"Right," Arvyn scoffed.
"Arvyn --"
"I'm done." Arvyn pulled a quilt over him and rolled to the wall of
the tent.
"Tanbry?"
His sister blew out the lantern and covered up, turning her back on
her brother.
The wind of the forest washed into the tent a little louder. A
sting caught him in the shoulder urging the man to slap at it. He
removed a small dart from his arm while his eyelids became heavy.
"Ow?" He fell face down onto the floor of the tent and into the
dark bliss of sleep.
Kiev felt a hand slap his face. He opened his eyes, trying to focus
on the face-shaped blur in his vision. Eventually the face of Jaxon
solidified.
"What would you do without me?" Jaxon asked.
"Die in my sleep," Kiev scoffed.
"I can leave and let you get back to your beauty rest. You sorely
need it."
"Ha. Ha. Cut me down. Gently, I'm delicate."
Jaxon pulled out a dagger and started to saw at Kiev's restraints.
"Yeah you are." The cord at his wrist gave and the battle mage fell
forward.
"Whoa, you alright?" Jaxon tried to cut while stabilizing Kiev.
"No, I've been tied up for a while. Where the piss have you been?"
"Don't start. I ran all the way here from Armand while you've been
coddled in the back of the duke's wagon."
"That's right, I was having tea the entire time you were prancing
about the woods."
"Prancing?" Jaxon stopped cutting, looking incredulous. "Prancing?
You want to see the blisters?"
"I see your blisters and raise you glass orb of pain."
"You big baby. Wah, the big mean guards were picking on me," Jaxon
mocked.
"When my arms start working again, I'm going to kick your ass."
"You're going to kick me with your arms?"
"Shut up and cut."
"You really are out of it." Jaxon returned to cutting the ropes.
"You're a damned riot. Cut faster."
"Why?"
"I'm really anxious to get down and don't want the guards to wake
up."
Jaxon finished with the last of the binding. "Those bastards aren't
waking anytime soon."
"What?" Kiev slumped to the ground, massaging his limbs.
Jaxon held up his blowgun. "These men are out." He accentuated this
by kicking a man in the groin a few times. The man just lay there.
"Out."
"Really?" Kiev smiled.
"Yes. Why? You want to muck with them a bit?"
A wicked grin spread across his face. "Yes I do."
Vable woke up, chill to the core, dirty, yet really well rested. He
looked up and saw the morning sky peppered with a few passing clouds and
took pause when he remembered going to sleep in a tent the night
previous. Smoke filled his nostrils, which added to his sense of
bewilderment. Looking down the length of his naked body to his toes
caused him to sit bolt up.
The mage scanned over the small glade of their camp and found it
completely devoid of anything save for an empty cross timber where Kiev
had been tied up and the contingent of guard laid side by side,
completely naked as well. Vable stood and took a few steps back to
process the scene.
The horses were gone, the wagon and all of their provisions were
smoldering into ash, but the most disturbing was the condition of the
men. At the head of each man was an arrow stuck in the ground as a
headstone would be. He followed the line of men down to where he had
been laying and saw the arrow meant for him as well as his batons.
Kiev's message was clear.
Arvyn woke next. "I am naked," he stated flatly.
"Yeah."
"Why? Why am I naked?"
"That's not the only thing. Look around."
Arvyn took a few moments and did as his brother instructed.
"Piss."
"Yeah."
"Bold statement with the arrows."
"Yeah."
"A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
"I think it conveys a very serious message as straight forward as
possible."
"Well, yeah. But still."
The other men started waking up, swearing in turn to their
predicament then swearing even more when they saw the arrows. A new
thought dawned on Arvyn and Vable at the same time.
"Where's Tanbry?" Arvyn asked.
"That bastard." Vable picked up the batons and headed down the
trail leading away from Dargon.
"Vable! We don't know where he's gone. Come back! Piss." Arvyn
turned to the others. "Well, let's see what we can salvage from the
fire. You two," he pointed, "go see if any of the horses have wandered
back and scout any signs of Tanbry. This is a piece of gong."
The men scoured the area and in three bells found no signs of
Tanbry. They were able to recover a horse, Arvyn's bag near the cross
timbers and some minor weapons in the remains of the fire, but little
that really improved their lot.
"Well, piss. So," Arvyn sighed, "do we march back into Dargon
busted, bloody and naked or wait here for the wolves to finish us off
with the little dignity we have left?"
A horse sighed from behind Arvyn. The men started to stand at
attention and Arvyn looked slowly behind him.
"By the face of Ol!" Kalen swore. "What happened here?"
"Lieutenant, uh, morning. What are you --?"
"Tanbry told me Kiev escaped, but she mentioned nothing of ...
this. What happened?"
"Tanbry made it to Dargon?"
"Yes, tied to her saddle and babbling something about Kiev escaping
and Westfahler. Once we deciphered what she was on about we rode
straight here. What happened?"
"Not too sure, but we woke with our camp destroyed and in the state
you see us in now. Kiev was gone as was Tanbry."
"Where's Vable?"
"Well ..."
"Don't keep me waiting."
Arvyn shook his head in resignation. "He's gone to prove Kiev
right.
========================================================================
A Second Chance
By Rena Deutsch
Luv2rite@dargonzine.org
Yule 25, 1017
The marketplace in Dargon was swarming with people. Not one seller
needed to shout to attract buyers; every one of them had their hands
full, dealing with their customers and haggling over the price for
merchandise. Unusual as this was, the sellers were as excited as their
customers.
Among the people in the marketplace were three friends, two men and
a woman, who were trying to make their way through the crowd. Their
progress was slow, and more than once they were pushed aside by an
impatient buyer when they came too close to a stand.
"I wonder what all this commotion is about. I don't think I've seen
so many people here at once before," one of the men said. He was rather
skinny, with his long arms wrapped around his chest, covering a tear in
his shirt. His pants looked like he'd outgrown them years ago; they
barely reached halfway below his knees and were full of holes.
"You mean to say you haven't heard about it, Kal?" the woman asked
teasingly. She was dressed in the traditional garments of a bard. Her
lips were painted blue, which created a lovely contrast to her long
black hair.
"No, I haven't heard. I've been looking for someone selling
clothing," Kal said grumpily. "And I would appreciate it if you could
tell me what all that commotion is about. I think Nai agrees with me."
"Straight!" Nai grinned. "Simona can tell the story so much better
than I anyway."
"You mean she's told you already?" Kal asked indignantly.
"No, I was there when the herald proclaimed it. You, on the other
hand, were daydreaming as usual," Nai retorted.
"Humph," Kal uttered and looked angrily at Nai.
Simona placed a hand on Kal's shoulder. "I'll tell you. There's no
need to start an argument. Some poor guy is going to be executed for
killing his neighbor."
Kal's face brightened. "I haven't seen an execution in a long time.
I can hardly wait."
Simona shuddered. "Come on, let's find a place to get something to
eat, but not before you buy a new pair of britches and a shirt. The
garments you're wearing are beyond repair! I am *not* making another
attempt to fix them." Simona said, looking at Kal's ragged outfit. "Next
time you decide to climb a tree and rob a bird of its eggs, take your
shirt off first."
"Stop your nagging," Kal replied. "I'll buy a shirt and britches,
and then I'll watch the execution. I need some entertainment."
"Over there." Nai tapped Kal's shoulder and then pointed at a cart
to his left.
"Straight," Kal sighed and fought his way through the crowd towards
the nearest merchant displaying clothes. He'd been teased almost
mercilessly for the past sennight for his attempt to add some eggs to
their meager meals as they traveled toward Dargon. He'd spotted a bird's
nest and had climbed the tree. He had reached into the nest to take some
of the eggs, not thinking that the feathered owners could be nearby.
He'd been attacked by two large black birds. In his surprise, he'd let
go of the branch he'd been holding on to and fell to the ground, tearing
his shirt and ripping his britches. His attempts to stitch his garments
had been futile.
The selection in the merchant's cart was limited. It didn't take
Kal long to pick out a pair of brown pants and a green shirt; however,
haggling over the price took time. Kal enjoyed negotiating the price,
but knew Simona's patience was going to wear thin if he took too long.
Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed that she was shifting position
quite frequently. He had a feeling she was about to interject and tell
him to pay the price. Kal reached an agreement with the merchant and
pulled out his purse. He imagined Simona letting out a deep sigh and
grinned inwardly.
"I'm hungry," Simona declared when Kal had his new garments wrapped
together and was ready to go on.
"I suggest the Inn of the Golden Lion. I've stayed there before
during my travels several years ago. The inn still stands," Nai said. "I
asked. It's not the closest one, but there won't be too many people
there, and hopefully we can get a room for the night as well. I will
meet you there; I have an errand to run."
"Will it take long?" Simona inquired.
"Shouldn't," Nai replied. "If you want to wait, I'll be back in a
few menes."
"Straight," Kal agreed. "We'll wait and then head to the inn
together. You seem to be the one who knows the way. I could use a room
and a decent meal for a change. We've been traveling for too long."
Nai returned a quarter bell later, grinning. "I got what I needed.
Ready for some food?"
"Straight," Kal replied.
"Then let's go," Simona said as she turned and began to make her
way towards the Street of Travellers. Within half a bell the friends
reached the inn and entered. A grim-looking barmaid greeted them
halfheartedly, putting a mug of ale in front of each of them before they
could order.
"Could we have something to eat as well?" Simona asked, taking a
sip from her mug.
"Nay," the barmaid replied grumpily. "Cook's not back from the
market yet."
"I reckon he won't be back for a while then," Nai said and looked
at Kal.
"Then I want to go back and watch the execution!" Kal said looking
straight at Simona and Nai. He hoped his friends wouldn't try to stop
him. "Did you hear how he's supposed to die?"
"They're using the Falling Judge to behead him," Simona explained
quickly.
"The people around the Falling Judge are already taking bets on how
many drops it will take to get the head off," Nai added. "I heard them
when I bought my things."
A brief shudder ran through Simona's body. She took a sip of her
ale and hoped her friends hadn't seen it.
"Is that why you dragged me away from the marketplace?" Kal
challenged them. "You know I enjoy these shows."
"And you know Mona hates them," Nai retorted and placed his arm
protectively around Simona's shoulder. She shrugged him off.
"But she never told us why," Kal replied. "I'm going back there. I
want to see it."
"I could tell you why I don't like executions," Simona said quietly
and looked at Kal who had stood up. For a moment, Kal looked directly at
Simona. Something in her look made him sit back down.
"I'm all ears," Kal said. "I'd like to know." Simona took a sip of
her ale, brushed some fine strands of hair out of her face and began her
story.
"It happened about six years ago. I was still a student at the
College of Bards in Magnus, when one of my teachers took me and a few
other girls to the marketplace to watch an execution. Our teacher had
told us in the days preceding the execution what had happened and we had
discussed it in detail. He made sure we were close to the scaffold, so
we could see everything." Simona's voice got quieter.
"The woman to be hanged that day had given birth to a small boy
only a fortnight before. The baby had been early and a few days later
his mother found him dead in his cradle. She buried him behind her
house. One of her neighbors had watched her dig the hole and when he saw
her cover a small bundle with dirt, he alerted the guard."
"It didn't take the guard long to dig up the baby and arrest the
woman. They said she had used the child as a sacrifice to Eilli-Syk, the
taker of life. The midwife who had delivered the child said that the
baby had been healthy. No one believed the mother when she said she
didn't kill the child. Instead she was tortured so she'd tell the truth.
For three days this went on; still the mother insisted she was innocent.
On the fourth day, when she couldn't stand the torture anymore, she gave
in and told them she had used the baby for a spell. She then was
sentenced to die by hanging."
"I remember," Kal interrupted. "I watched that execution." He
looked at Simona and smiled. "It was the first time I saw you."
Simona returned his smile, then sipped on her ale, took a deep
breath, and continued.
"One of the girls at the College of Bards, Shanna, began having
nightmares after the woman had been arrested. Shanna and I shared a room
and I was woken up by her screaming. She confided in me and I told her
to talk to our teacher. The first night she dreamt that this woman
placed her baby in a cradle, and when she came back the baby was gone;
instead there was a kitten that was then taken away by a cat. When
Shanna told our teacher about her dream, she was told she shouldn't
interfere in affairs of which she knew nothing about. I don't know why
our teacher discouraged her. Usually dreams and visions are investigated
and interpreted.
"The second night, she dreamt that this woman placed her baby in
the cradle, and when she returned, instead of the baby there lay a wolf
cub that was then taken away by a wolf. Again Shanna went to our teacher
and again she was told to let it be.
"On the third night, she dreamt the baby lay still when the woman
returned to check on her child. But when the woman tried to pick up the
baby, all she held in her hands was empty linen. Scared of what might
happen if she told her teacher, Shanna remained silent. She told me that
the animals taking away their young were a symbol of innocence and
because the women in her dream saw the animals, she was innocent. She
wept for the poor woman and herself, unable to help her even though she
believed that the woman was innocent. I comforted her that night as she
relayed more images of her dreams to me.
"The night before the execution, she dreamt the woman lay in a pool
of blood and the baby was crying. Shanna woke up that morning, calm and
composed, and went to the marketplace with the rest of our group.
"The guards had made quite a spectacle out of the whole thing. It
was almost like a parade with people shouting and clapping. Some threw
overripe fruit at the woman who was kneeling on a cart, her hands tied
together in front of her. The cart was stopped in front of the scaffold.
As the woman was led to the ladder, a voice in the crowd shouted, 'Hang
that murderess!' Another voice called out, 'Kill the witch!' More
overripe fruit was targeted at the woman. Some of it fell to the ground,
splattered us, and made us look like we were bleeding.
"The woman was forced to climb the ladder. She was struggling. Over
and over she repeated, 'I'm innocent, I didn't do it!' The crowd,
however, shouted, 'Hang that murderess, hang her!' It was like a chant.
No one listened to the one girl in the crowd who said, 'She's innocent,
let her go.' Shanna cried softly when the executioner placed the noose
around the woman's neck and then placed a blindfold over her eyes. It
seemed he took pleasure out of delaying the pull of the lever. The woman
began to shiver and she cried out, 'I'm innocent!' But no one in the
crowed seemed to believe her, except for Shanna and me. I was too
frightened by the whole experience to say anything. Finally the
executioner pulled a lever and the floor underneath the woman's feet
disappeared, leaving her hanging. Her body convulsed several times
before it hung still.
"We had to watch until the body was cut from the rope and placed on
the cart to be wheeled away and buried. The crowd dispersed slowly. We
just stood there without saying a word. The executioner stepped from the
scaffold, examined the body, and proclaimed her dead. He untied the rope
that bound her hands and her arms fell to her side. When the cart began
moving, Shanna followed, disobeying our teacher's instructions to follow
him back to the college. I heard her crying and softly repeating, 'I
know you're innocent. Get up and go home.'
"Shanna arrived back at the College of Bards two bells later than
we did. She wouldn't give us any explanation where she'd been or what
she'd done. Even though Shanna and I shared a room and usually told each
other everything, she refused to confide in me. All she ever said was
that the woman had been innocent, that she shouldn't have been killed. I
believe her. It is so hard to tell whether a person is guilty or not
unless someone has actually seen the crime. I cannot bear to see anyone
killed. I don't want any part of it.
"Our teacher put Shanna on kitchen duty for a fortnight. The next
day we found out that when the cart had arrived at the cemetery, the
woman had been gone. She was seen two days later, wandering the streets
of Magnus, looking for her baby. Those who saw her said she looked
transparent with a dark red ring around her neck and wrists and a purple
face."
"By Stevene!" the barmaid cried out and dropped a tankard of ale.
The brown liquid splashed onto the floor. Simona stopped talking. She'd
forgotten that anyone else besides her two friends was in the room.
The barmaid rushed out of the room and returned with a mop. Slowly,
she washed the floor where the ale had spilled.
"What happened then?" Nai wanted to know. Simona stood up and
turned her back towards her friends.
"She is still wandering through the streets of Magnus," she
whispered so only Kal could hear her, and aloud she said, "I don't
know."
Half a bell later, Kal and Nai made their way back to the
marketplace. Simona had refused to watch another execution and had
stayed behind at the inn.
"I hope we're not too late," Kal said. "I don't want to miss it."
"You won't," Nai assured his friend. "I heard the herald say the
execution will happen by seventh bell. We have two bells to get there,
and get some food beforehand."
"Do you think they'll have flingers?"
"Why would you want to throw a shelled fish onto a stone and then
have a soothsayer read your fortune? You know it's all humbug."
"Why not?" Kal asked. "What better day than an execution day to
find out what the future holds? Besides, afterwards they cook it for
you, and I need some food."
Nai shook his head. "Fine! You can only hope the line isn't too
long."
When the friends finally arrived at the marketplace, there were
even more people present than before. Kal soon gave up trying to find
anyone selling flingers. Instead each bought a bowl with boiled
vegetables and meat in it. Hungrily they ate and then made their way to
the center of the place where the Falling Judge was set up. Underneath
the thick branch of a tall oak tree was a platform upon which stood a
wooden block with clamps to hold arms, head, and body in place. A long
rope hung from the branch. The blade of an axe was tied to the end of
the rope.
"There is no way we can get any closer," Nai said and stopped
moving.
"We're still too far away to see well," Kal argued and tried to
push forward, but the crowd was like a solid wall. Soon there were so
many people behind them that they couldn't move in any direction. Kal
relented. Grumbling, he watched as the herald ascended the steps to the
platform on which the Falling Judge stood. With the wave of his arm, the
herald asked for silence; the crowd complied.
Kal let out a sigh. Finally there was some action. He strained to
listen to what the herald had to say and learned that the accused had
fought with his neighbor over a chicken and had been found guilty of
killing the man with poison. It took three men to drag the accused onto
the platform. "I'm innocent," the man screamed. "I didn't kill him! He
just dropped dead in front of me! I'm innocent!" One of the men who had
forced the accused onto the platform struck him with his fist. The crowd
roared.
"He *is* innocent," a small voice said near Kal. He looked around
and noticed a young woman in blue garments repeating, "He's innocent."
"How do you know?" Kal addressed the woman.
The woman looked at him in surprise. "How do I know what?"
"How do you know he's innocent?"
"Did I say that?"
"I heard you!"
"Then it must be true," the woman said and shrugged.
"What's your name?" Kal inquired.
"Does it matter?"
"Are you related to the man up there?"
"Which one?"
"The one being accused of murder."
"No."
"Then how do you know he's innocent?"
"I just do!" With that, the woman ducked and did what Kal and Nai
hadn't been able to do: move forward in the crowd towards the platform.
Kal tried to follow her steps with his eyes, but soon lost track
and gave up. For a moment he thought about what the woman had said and
the story Simona had told earlier and wondered if the woman was Shanna,
but then he brushed the thought aside and directed his gaze forward. He
looked at the platform where the herald had placed a large cabbage on
the wooden block. He let go of the rope in his hand and a heavy looking
axe rushed downward, making contact with the cabbage and splitting it in
half. The crowd roared again. Kal felt a surge of excitement go through
his body.
Up on the platform, one of the men cleaned up the cabbage and then
helped force the convict into the Falling Judge. The man was struggling,
screaming, "I'm innocent," but to no avail. As the herald restated the
charges, the executioner pulled on the rope to lift the axe.
"He is innocent!" A voice shouted. "Don't kill him! He is
innocent!"
Suddenly, there was a commotion in front of the platform. A woman
in blue garments managed to climb up and reach the prisoner.
"He is innocent!" she yelled at the executioner. "Let him go!"
It took several guards to subdue the woman, Kal now recognized as
the one he'd spoken to menes earlier. During all her struggles she
continued to shout, "He is innocent! Don't kill him." After she had been
removed from the platform, the herald proclaimed the sentencing was
righteous and the execution would begin shortly.
Around Kal and Nai, people began guessing how many strikes it would
take to sever the head from the body. As Kal listened to the guesses, he
got an eerie feeling and wondered if the man indeed was guilty. What if
his story was true? What if ... Never before had Kal doubted the ruling
of a justiciar. He wished that it would take only one strike to behead
the man. However, his wish was not heard as the axe fell and struck the
man's neck. For the first time, he was glad he was so far away from the
Falling Judge that he couldn't hear the sound it made.
The executioner raised the axe for the second time, and then a
third; still the head was attached to the body, and the axe was lifted
once more. Kal closed his eyes. He felt sick to his stomach. He hoped
the man was dead and wouldn't have to endure excruciating pain. After
the axe fell for the sixth time, the executioner opened the clamps,
pulled a lifeless form off the Falling Judge, and pronounced the man
dead, head still attached. A few people in the crowd shouted, "Cut his
head off!" and others picked it up, but the executioner didn't heed the
people. Instead, he ordered the crowd dispersed. Slowly the marketplace
emptied. Kal and Nai moved into a small alley and then returned to the
marketplace upon Kal's insistence. From afar they watched as the body
was tossed onto a wagon. As the wagon left the marketplace, the woman in
blue garments followed. "Shanna," Kal thought, and recalled Simona's
story again. He had been at the marketplace in Magnus then, too. It was
then that he had noticed Simona for the first time and seen her crying
and he remembered the girl next to her, who was trying to comfort her.
Had that been Shanna? He wasn't certain. He recalled that the girl
comforting Simona had worn blue garments and had long brown hair. He
yanked on Nai's arm.
"Nai, Nai!" Kal shouted excitedly. "See that woman following the
cart with the corpse? The one with the blue tunic."
"Aye," Nai replied looking in the direction Kal pointed.
"I think that's Shanna!"
"Mona's Shanna?" Nai's eyes opened wide.
"Straight!"
"How do you know?"
"I think I've seen her before. In Magnus, when I first saw Mona.
There was a girl next to her with the same brown hair and blue
garments."
"That doesn't mean it's Shanna."
"True, but I talked to her just before the execution. You saw her
up on the platform where the guards subdued her. She said the man was
innocent."
Nai swallowed hard. The men walked back to the inn in silence and
discovered that Simona had already retired to her room.
Simona woke when sunlight shone in her face. She felt disoriented.
She had dreamt about Shanna and her days at the College of Bards and
wondered where her friend was and what had happened to their belongings.
The dream had been so vivid, Simona found it difficult to return to the
present. She forced herself to get up and complete her morning
ablutions. When she entered the main room of the inn a quarter bell
later, she was the first one there. She sat at a table by the window and
let her thoughts wander. Several menes later, the barmaid entered and
Simona ordered breakfast. Moments later, Kal and Nai joined Simona for
breakfast. Kal was sporting his new garments.
"Good morning," she greeted them without her usual smile. "I don't
want any details about the execution!"
"Straight," Kal said. "I wasn't about to give you any."
"You're still sour because we went back to the market, aren't you?"
Nai said.
"No --" Simona began, but didn't finish.
"What?" Nai wanted to know.
"I was just thinking," She said slowly, "Where to start looking."
"Looking for Shanna?" Nai asked.
"What makes you think that?"
"Kal thinks he saw her yesterday."
Simona swallowed hard. She turned towards Kal. "You did?"
"I can't be certain, she had brown hair, fair skin, dark eyes, and
she wore a blue dress. I talked to her briefly, that's when I thought
she might be Shanna."
"What did she say?"
"Not much. Only that the man was innocent."
Kal was about to ask Simona a question, but was interrupted by a
man storming into the inn.
"Hear! Hear!" he shouted. "I have a story to tell you!"
"What is it?" the barmaid asked.
"You know about the man they executed yesterday, straight?"
"Straight!" the barmaid replied.
"Well, when the wagon with the body arrived at the cemetery, the
body was gone! The Rattler, who was driving the wagon, said he never
stopped, and no one approached the wagon either! And this morning, the
man was seen walking the streets. His neck was all bruised. His head
kept falling to one side every time he pushed it back up and you could
see the huge gash the Falling Judge made. Blood was dripping down,
leaving a trail on the road."
The barmaid's eyes were wide with horror. She slapped her hand over
her mouth, staggered backwards, and then fainted. Nai got up and tended
to the woman. When she came to, she was quite embarrassed and excused
herself.
"I think I saw Shanna yesterday after the execution, following the
Rattler's cart," Kal spoke softly so only Simona could hear him. She
felt the blood drain from her face.
"Shanna! I have to find her," she whispered and turned to Kal,
"Don't follow me. I'll be back. Just wait here. Straight?"
"Straight," he replied and Simona left.
========================================================================
