''Chosen''

''Chosen 9''

By;fernand jiro

“As we look back through history, few realize what would have happened had they never met.”
Historian Mylows on Jalen and Mayla

                As the sun slowly began to peer above the horizon the city of Baslaen slowly came alive with activity.  The guards began to change shifts as fresh soldiers replaced their weary predecessors.  One by one, merchants who owned their own stores began to open their doors to the new day while others began their way to find a good spot for the day’s activities in the open market.  It was often said that anything and everything one could want could be found at the Baslaen market.  After the changing of the guards was completed the city gates were opened to allow travelers, visitors, and wandering merchants entrance to the grand capital of Coradain.  Often the guards found amusement in the reactions of visitors who had never been to Baslaen before upon seeing the grandeur of the palace and the beauty of the details that surrounded them.  Few cities in Coradain could match the splendor of Baslaen.
                Protecting the city on nearly three sides was the Doreagin Peaks, a mountain range that curved from the north of Baslaen, starting with the hill lands, around the west to the southwest.  There were few passes that were easily accessible and passable, all of which were guarded by a small military force.  Converging paths, trails, and roads from the south and east became two large and well known roads cutting through the dense forest that engulfed Baslaen and the Doreagin Peaks.  Travelers to and from Baslaen used these roads almost exclusively due to the difficulties in passing through the forests and mountain passes.  Few could travel through off the main roads without becoming lost or be granted passage through the checkpoints of the mountains without proper clearance.
                “Now explain to me again why we had to charge through the checkpoint?” Nimen asked as he looked back to the bewildered guards.   They slowly stood, recovering from the complete surprise “attack” from the three robed riders who came behind them.  “Couldn’t we have said something like we are on official business?”
                Prince Jalen chuckled as he pushed his horse to run hard.  “There would have been no fun in that.”
                “These posts will need to be reevaluated,” commented Rukus.  “It was far too easy.”
                “Only because we knew when and how to make the charge,” Nimen retorted.
                Rukus nodded.  “True as that may be I have yet to see the guards give chase.  Unless I am mistaken that is the only post on this path.”
                Nimen looked back again to see the guards still standing in utter bewilderment as the three of them rounded a bend.  He snarled as he said, “There was only one seasoned guard at that post.”
                “As I had said,” Rukus commented.
                An annoyed grunt from Nimen brought a smile to Jalen’s face, never ceasing to enjoy the banter his friend’s shared.  They continued to ride as hard as the horses would allow through the pass while the ground stayed relatively flat and smooth.  As it began to change into more rocky terrain the three riders slowed their pace, taking more care for their horses’ safety.  None of them were concerned about their current speed.  Any pursuers would have too far to catch up facing the same travel conditions.  It was the perfect pass to take, known only to those who needed to know, including the High Honor Guard and the royal family.  It traveled low and was by far the quickest route through the mountains, having been prepared for years in secret by workers, shaping the natural features to enhance the ease of travel.  Travel through the mountains would only take a day instead of two or three by taking another path.  After some time the three riders dismounted from their horses and began to walk next to them, allowing their mounts some time to rest.
                Jalen looked to the sky as they walked, asking, “Do you think they know we are no longer at the palace?”
                “If they do not then perhaps we should have a word with the palace guards before chastising the ones guarding these passes,” Rukus replied.
                “I’m sure Malik will have words about our disappearance,” Jalen commented.
                “Let him,” Nimen growled.  “He seems to think so little of us and so highly of himself.”
                “Eyes forward,” Rukus murmured.  “We have our goal ahead of us while Malik is behind.”
                The three of them continued to walk on as the day passed, occasionally stopping for short rests to partake of small rations.  As the day wore on they eventually came to the end of the pass peering out just over the dark green canopy of the forest that stretched out in all directions.  Beyond were the prairie lands, in the middle of which rested their destination.  They stood for a moment in quiet reflection of what they were about to undergo before Jalen took the lead, walking slowly next to his horse.  A cool wind blew while the sun began to set, the three of them mounting their horses as they reached the forest’s edge.
                “We will go as far as we can,” Jalen murmured.  “Then take watches.”
                The other two nodded and they rode off through a small path in the dense forest, not noticeable to casual glances.  They went slowly at first, taking several detours through alternate side paths, until they finally came out onto one of the main roads that lead to the more well known mountain paths.  After a quick glance to make sure there were no patrols, the three riders rode off in a fast pace, Jalen leading, followed by Nimen and Rukus in the rear, each keeping an eye out.  Some time after darkness filled the sky and the stars sprinkled the heavens, the three riders went off the main path to rest, each taking a turn at watch.
                Just before morning, as the light from the rising sun began to spread across the sky and the symphony of nightly sounds subsided, they once again took to the road traveling as fast as the dim light allowed them.  Within a few hours, well after the sun had passed the horizon and began its ascent higher into the sky, the three riders burst from the woods with explosive speed and energy.  Nimen called out in exhilaration at their reckless charge through the last of the forest out to the wide prairie lands.
                “There is something peaceful about this place,” Jalen commented softly, followed by a sigh of contentment.
                Nimen rode up next to Jalen and grinned.  “Yeah, a man can make a decent living out here herding or, if you were lucky, farming.”
                “Of course one would have to consider the lack of taverns,” Rukus commented while looking toward Nimen.
                A deep chuckle burst from Nimen’s lips.  “Yes, that would pose a tough decision.”
                Jalen nodded.  “And this is sacred land, if you recall.”
                Both Rukus and Nimen looked out onto the sea of grass swaying in the gentle breeze.  “Have either of you been there before?” asked Nimen.
                “I have,” Jalen answered.
                Rukus rest his eyes on Jalen and calmly asked, “What can we expect?”
                Jalen shook his head.  “I cannot tell you.”
                “We are about to disregard several ancient edicts that have been in place for thousands of years,” Nimen commented.  “Why not this one?”
                “Because it is not an edict I am upholding,” Jalen replied.  “For each person it is different.  It is why the Ordeal is unquestioned as the highest test of character.  To undertake it is to face your true self.  All of yourself.”  Jalen closed his eyes for a moment in memory.  “The Shrine is a place many fear because they fear what they may see.  The past that haunts them, the present they are, or the future they will endure.  All these things can be seen in the Shrine.”
                Nimen stared for a moment nearly slack-jawed.  Rukus nodded slowly as he asked, “What did you see?”
                Jalen took a deep breath.  “I saw nothing.”
                “What?” asked Nimen.  “You cannot tell us that you saw nothing at all.”
                “Father forbade me to enter the Shrine,” Jalen replied in a hushed voice.
                “And you did not go in,” Rukus said, continuing Jalen’s thought.  “That does not sound like you.”
                Jalen opened his eyes and tightened the reigns of his horse.  “No, it does not.”  He burst ahead of his two companions, his horse in full gallop.  Rukus and Nimen looked to each other for a moment to share a puzzled look then they both rode off after their prince.  There was no more talk of the Shrine as they pushed ahead as fast as their horses would take them.  The sun shone down on them as they cut through cool air.  All around the grass danced in varied and interesting patterns as the wind playfully flowed through the blades.  Tranquility surrounded them.  Even the sounds of their horses’ hoofs thundering against the ground seemed subdued in the open serenity that stretched out in all directions.
                After a few hours of riding Rukus’ attention was drawn to a rising column of smoke to their right.  He suddenly pulled his horse to a halt and peered off into the distance where the smoke was coming from.  Both Jalen and Nimen slowed and turned back to see why Rukus had stopped so suddenly.  They followed his gaze to the smoke column, puzzlement pervading their minds.
                “A fire?” asked Nimen.
                “The normal cause of smoke,” Rukus replied.
                Nimen shot Rukus a hard scowl.  “If we weren’t out here…”
                “It is not natural,” Jalen commented; interrupting the oncoming verbal duel that he knew would waste time.  “It is too narrow and constant.”  He narrowed his eyes for a moment then rode off in the direction of the smoke, Rukus and Nimen again trying to catch up.
                “Why are we wasting time following smoke?” Nimen asked.
                “As Prince Jalen has mentioned, this is sacred land,” Rukus replied.  “Though not forbidden, to take residence here is considered very taboo.”
                Nimen considered what Rukus said as they rode next to each other, both trying to keep up with Jalen who was nearly flying through the tall prairie grass.  Slowly they could see the chimney rising above the grass, followed by the roof and the walls of a small cottage.  Outside were several horses, some saddled with leather bags, and a small wagon with two horses attached.  Four men were busy herding small animals through a broken section of fencing that stretched out behind the cottage and either tying them to the wagon or loading them up into it.  They looked ragged, men who moved from place to place, living off of what they could find.  Bandits.
                Jalen halted several yards away and surveyed the scene before him.  Inside he could see the movement but could not tell what was happening.  He quickly dismounted and stepped forward, unsheathing his elegant long sword.  Rukus and Nimen followed his lead as they caught up, Nimen unsheathing a large bastard sword after he dismounted while Rukus merely strode up to stand next to Jalen.  When both of his companions were next to him Jalen nodded to Nimen.
                “By authority of the High Honor Guard, decreed by the royal family of Coradain, you are here by ordered to cease your actions here and now!” shouted Nimen.
                Rukus sighed softly.  “You do realize that if we take them alive then we will have to return to Baslaen.”
                “This was Prince Jalen’s idea, you know,” Nimen retorted.
                Jalen’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk.  “Think of this as our morning exercise.”
                The four men rounding up the small animals paused and stared at the three High Honor Guard standing before them for a moment.  From inside the cottage came a crash that startled the four men outside who then looked to each other before looking to their opponents.  Neither side moved as they stared each other down.
                “What is going on out there?” boomed a deep voice as the door to the cottage burst off its hinges.  A large, bald man stepped out and looked to his companions with a snarl.  He was dressed in similar clothing to the four men outside and carried a large mace on his shoulder.  “Why did you stop?”
                One of the men pointed to Jalen, Nimen, and Rukus, and sputtered out, “The High Honor Guard!”
                The large man squinted out to Jalen and his companions and shouted, “What are you waiting for?  Get them!”
                “Nuh uh, Crieg,” replied one of his men in a course voice.  “I heard the stories and ain’t no way I’m gonna fight with a High Honor Guard.”
                Crieg growled.  “Useless!” he shouted with a wave of his free hand then started to walk toward the three High Honor Guard.  As he approached them, each calmly standing ready for a fight, Crieg looked to each one for a moment then sneered.  “One at a time or all at once?”
                Jalen peered Crieg up and down, noticing a red mark on his leather vest in the shape of a red wolf’s head then sheathed his sword.  “A Vastue bandit,” he murmured with a shake of his head.  “I thought Massath had killed all of you.”  Jalen took another long look at Crieg before saying, “Or
                “What?” Crieg asked with a puzzled look on his face.
                “Do you even know what that symbol on your chest means?” Jalen asked, his piercing grey eyes staring deep into Crieg’s brown eyes.  “It is the symbol of the Vastue, a creature of ancient lore,” Jalen stated calmly, taking a step forward.  His tone grew darker as he spoke; his eyes continuing to bore into Crieg’s.  “The bandits that wore that symbol believed it would empower them, make them stronger; make them invincible.”  Crieg started to falter back as Jalen approached him, unable to look away.  “One of the High Honor Guard defeated them.  Just one against many.  You, a mere paltry imitation, wishing to stand against us is all but laughable.”  Crieg’s breath came faster and shallower, staggering for air as his heart raced.  “I know these things because the Vastue, believing in fables and false beliefs, tried to dethrone my father.  Do you believe you are capable of defeating me?  If so, then strike now while you have your chance.  If you miss, you will die.”
                Crieg slowly raised his mace with two hands, never letting his eyes fall from Jalen’s.  Ready to swing at an unarmed man, Crieg merely dropped his mace and fell to his knees.  “D…don’t,” he stuttered out, nearly in tears.
                Jalen closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Strip your horses of everything but the basic saddle.  Unhitch the wagon and return the animals to their pen then block the hole with the wagon to prevent their escape.  If you work fast I may permit you to leave.”  He opened his eyes and stared into Crieg’s eyes again.  “You may proceed.”
                “You heard him!” shouted Crieg.  “Get a move on!”
                The five bandits scurried around the cottage to follow through the orders that Jalen gave down to the last detail that they could.  As they worked, the landowner that lived inside the cottage stuck his head out to see what was going on.  He was an elderly man with little hair left who was surprisingly fit for a man of his age.  He continued to watch, slowly walking out to make sure he what he was seeing was actually true.  In the end the bandits ended up with merely five horses, three saddled and two unsaddled.  They rode off slowly, broken and defeated.
                “Is it impolite to not wave at them?” Rukus murmured.
                “I believe they broke etiquette first by attempting to raid this place,” Jalen replied.
                Nimen scoffed.  “They were let off too easy.”
                “They left with much less than they came with,” Jalen commented.  “I would say with all things considered it turned out just right.”
                “Thank you!” exclaimed the elderly man.  “My family and I are in your debt!”
                “Of course,” replied Jalen, turning with a smile to greet the landowner.
                “It is a privilege to have the High Honor Guard at our home,” the landowner continued with a humble bow.  “Please, come in!  If you are in no hurry I beg of you to stay the night and partake of our evening meal!”
                Nimen coughed softly.  “We are actually on an important mission…”
                “That can wait one more day,” Jalen interrupted, smiling to the landowner.  “A good, hearty meal will do us well.”
                Rukus smirked softly and whispered softly to Nimen, “I do believe there are ulterior motives.”  With a smooth motion of his head, Rukus directed Nimen’s direction to the cottage door where two ladies stood watching the exchange.  The elderly of the two smiled excitedly when she saw the bandits had been driven away.  The younger looked bewildered yet tired as if working hard.  Nimen looked to Rukus and nodded in agreement at seeing the beauty of the younger lady.
                “Where are my manners?” exclaimed the landowner.  “I am Aldreo Recorse.”  He pointed to the front of his cottage as he continued, “That there is my wife, Wilai.”
                “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Jalen replied.
                From the cottage came a screeching.  “What are you waiting fer?” exclaimed Wilai.  “Get the cauldron on the fire!  We have guests!”
                The young lady flinched at Wilai’s sudden tone and hurried inside.  Aldreo bowed humbly again as he motioned the three of them to follow.  Jalen and Nimen followed while Rukus turned to get the horses before they ran off.  As they approached the door of the cottage Wilai bowed to Jalen and Nimen, escorting them inside.  Jalen took note of several pieces of furniture in differing stages of completion to the left of the door as they entered.  Each seemed crafted with exquisite craftsmanship and lined with various pelts and furs, many from the various animals; a few from animals that lived only in the prairie lands.  Various implements of hunting, capturing, killing, and skinning animals were hanging on the far wall above a table littered with carpentry tools.  To his right was the living area with furnishings that were surprisingly cozy for a solitary house in the middle of the prairie lands.  There were two doors branching off from the living area, one appearing to go to the kitchen while the other seemed to be a bedroom.
                “This is a very lovely cottage,” Jalen commented.
                “Thank you!” Aldreo replied.  “We try our best.”  He looked around a moment then furrowed his brow.  “Why is my workbench still cluttered?” he murmured in an puzzled tone.  “Hmm…we will have to fix that.  Girl!  Clean my table!” he shouted.
                The young lady burst from the kitchen and ran to the workbench, franticly putting tools back into their proper place.  Jalen studied her for a moment before Aldreo nudged him to the table.  Both he and Nimen were seated in the finest chairs at the table.  Jalen felt as if he was sitting down to dinner at home as an odd familiarity with the seat overtook him.  He again looked to the furniture and then to the young lady as she finished up with the workbench.  She paused for a moment to catch her staggering breath then hurried back to the kitchen before either Aldrea or Wilai could yell at her again.
                “Pardon us,” Aldreo said apologetically.  “We must attend to your food.”
                “One cannot trust that simpleton,” Wilai commented with disgust.
                “Is she your daughter?” Jalen asked.
                “Oh no!” shouted Wilai.  “We would have taught our children better than that!  She couldn’t even cut meat properly!”
                Aldreo started to nudge his wife.  “Let us go make sure she has not ruined our food.”
                “Yes, of course,” she replied and both went into the kitchen.
                Jalen looked to Nimen with a furrowed brow.  “Does something strike you as odd?” he asked.
                “What do you mean?” Nimen asked.
                “These people live at least two days from the nearest town yet they live in apparent opulence.”
                Nimen looked around.  “Indeed.”
                Jalen shifted in his chair.  “These chairs are very similar to the ones at home.  He is a carpenter by trade, no doubt, as well as a hunter.”
                “He hunts the animals of the prairie lands?” Nimen asked with a mild look of shock.
                “There is nothing inherently wrong about it,” Jalen commented.  “No law against it.  Yet it is not considered…appropriate.  If my father knew…”
                Nimen growled softly as he thought about the situation.  “Is something the matter?” asked a smooth voice behind them.  Both turned to see Rukus standing calmly looking between the two.
                There was a crash from the kitchen followed by maniacal screeching.  “Clumsy oaf!  Stupid girl!  We have royal guests and you drop their food on the ground?!”
                “Hmm…it seems we are not as inconspicuous as we believed,” murmured Jalen as he looked to the kitchen door.
                Rukus narrowed his eyes as he looked to the kitchen door as well.  “There are several rare animals in the pin outside.”
                “We had a feeling,” Nimen growled, whose attention was also drawn to the kitchen door.
                The young lady raced out of the kitchen door, past Jalen, Rukus, and Nimen, and out of the door followed by Aldreo with a sour look on his face.  “It is so hard to find good help.”
                Jalen slowly stood up and took a deep breath.  “As it is to find good employers.”
                “What?” Aldreo asked with a confused look upon his face.
                “Who is the girl?” asked Jalen, staring ahead of him into empty space.
                Aldreo shifted uneasily.  “She is just hired help,” he replied.
                Nimen stood and stared into Aldreo’s eyes.  “As I am sure you are aware it is a rude to lie to someone who has just saved your life.”
                “I…”
                Jalen turned and glared at Aldreo.  “Who is she?” he asked again in a slow and calm voice.
                “We…we found her out in the prairie lands a week ago.  She was lost, confused…nearly half starved!  We saved her life!”
                “So you decided to turn her into a slave?” Rukus asked softly.
                “For repayment!” Aldreo stuttered.  “She had almost nothing of value!”
                “Almost?” Nimen arched his eyebrow.
                Wilai walked out of the room slowly, her head lowered slightly in fear.  “Jewels…fine clothing…”
                Jalen narrowed his eyes.  “I see.”
                “Forgive us, my prince!” pleaded Wilai, dropping to her knees at the end of the table Jalen and Nimen sat at.  “We are getting old…we…we…”
                “You poach animals on sacred land,” Jalen murmured, “you take advantage of those you owe you.  You have dishonored yourselves.”  Both Aldreo and Wilai moved to each other, taking each other into each other’s arms for comfort, fearing Jalen’s words.  “As payment for saving your life you will hand the girl over to us, including her belongings.  All of them.”
                “But…”
                “You dare defy your prince!” Nimen shouted.
                Aldreo lowered his head and murmured, “Of course, your highness.  Wilai, gather her things.”
                “We require a new horse, as well,” said Rukus.
                “As you wish,” Aldreo murmured.
                Jalen looked to Nimen then to Rukus, nodding to both, then turned to go outside.  He looked around for a moment, noticing the sun was well on its decent through the sky.  The sounds of sobbing caught Jalen’s ears, drawing his attention to his right near the pin.  The young lady crouched on the ground leaning against the fence, her head down with her arms wrapped around her stomach.  Her blond hair hung down, covering her face, yet he could still see tears dropping from her eyes.  Slowly, quietly, Jalen walked closer to her and eased down to his knees.
                “Such harsh treatment,” he murmured.  The girl lifted her head, her reddened eyes locking with Jalen’s grey eyes.  He could not help but smile and whispered, “As well as such beauty.”
                The young lady curled herself tighter as she stuttered, “Wha…what?”
                Jalen slowly extended his hand to her, smiling softly.  “What is your name?”
                She looked to his hand then into his eyes.  A sudden warm filled her and eased her nerves.  With some hesitation, she took Jalen’s hand and both stood.  “I…my name is…Mayla.”
                “Mayla,” Jalen murmured.  “What a lovely name.”
                Mayla’s cheeks flushed bright red and turned her face away.  “I…thank you.”
                Jalen bowed slightly, still lightly holding her hand.  “My name is…”
                “Jalen, we should be on our way.”
                Both Jalen and Mayla looked to the door of the cottage to see Rukus, standing alert to the wilderness.  “Our stay here should not be a long one.”
                Jalen sighed and shook his head.  “I agree.”
                Mayla’s eyes widened and she looked to Jalen.  “You…are you leaving?”
                “No,” Jalen replied with a nod, squeezing her hand gently.  “We are leaving.”
                “What?” Mayla asked with tears pouring from her eyes with hope.
                “You are coming with us,” he replied softly.  “Your things are being gathered as we speak.”
                Mayla smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages, tears of joy running down her cheek.  “Thank you!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Jalen’s neck.
                Rukus coughed.  “If you will please, my lady,” he murmured.  “Your things are inside awaiting your inspection.  Should you find anything missing, please inform us.”  With a low bow, Rukus left to prepare the horses.
                “Go get your things,” said Jalen with a smile.  “My companion Nimen is still inside.  I am sure he will assist you if you do happen to find anything out of order.”
                Mayla smiled softly, turning her face away again.  “Jalen…that is such a…nice name.”
                “Go now.  We shall take you from here as soon as you are ready.”
                “Yes…thank you,” Mayla murmured, hurrying inside.
                Jalen smiled after her then walked to join Rukus with the horses.
                “Smitten yet?” Rukus asked with only a very small smirk.
                Jalen looked back to the cottage in silence for a moment.  “Her or me?”
                Rukus chuckled softly.  “Be mindful.”
                “I know,” Jalen replied.
                After a short while Mayla exited the cottage in the same elegant dress she wore a few days prior, pausing for a moment to feel the breeze blow against her.  She looked toward Jalen and Rukus holding their horses.  With a smile and a sigh of freedom, Mayla walked toward them followed by Nimen.  Jalen bowed to her as she approached and offered his hand to help her onto her horse.
                “Thank you,” she smiled, mounting the horse with a little effort.  “It has been a while since I have ridden.”
                Jalen chuckled.  “You have ridden before?”
                Mayla nodded.  “When I was younger I used to ride all the time.”  Her voice trailed as her demeanor changed.  “It seems so long ago now,” she murmured.
                “We will proceed slowly then,” said Jalen in a comforting voice.  Both he and Nimen quickly mounted their horses and all four began to ride off.  Mayla took one more look to the cottage a moment then looked to her rescuers.  Suddenly the thought of her situation becoming worse than before grew more and more apparent as possibilities began to materialize in her mind’s eye.  She knew the elderly couple would treat her as nothing more than property but at least she knew any harm would only rarely be physical.  The three men she was now accompanying could do much worse to her. 
                As if he knew what she was thinking, Jalen looked back to Mayla with a smile and slowed his horse to ride next to her.  Rukus and Nimen, taking their cue, slightly increased their speed to allow for some privacy.  Mayla continued to watch Jalen as he stared at her with his gentle smile.  His grey eyes never left hers until she was beside him; even then he only looked to the path ahead for mere moments to look back to Mayla.  His moves were slow and calm with both hands in plain sight away from anything that could be dangerous or threatening.  Their pace had slowed slightly to a lazy walk while neither said a word.
                “Do you hear anything?” Nimen asked Rukus.
                “They are both silent,” Rukus replied.
                Nimen grinned.  “Another would be conquest.”
                Rukus shook his head.  “I do not trust her,” he replied in a softer voice.
                “What do you mean?” Nimen asked with a sudden look of shock and puzzlement.
                “Her mannerisms, dress, belongings…even her accent.  Everything about her tells me something is not right.”
                “What about her accent?  I rather like it.”
                “It does not sound right.  I have never heard the nuances of her inflections before.”  Rukus paused to look behind to Jalen and Mayla out of the corner of his eye.  “It is similar to one of the southern regions, perhaps Oalim or Freir but yet something distinctly different.”
                Nimen narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t you think you are being a bit paranoid?”
                Rukus stared directly into Nimen’s eyes.  “I prefer to call it being prepared.”
                “She is just a girl,” Nimen retorted.  “How could she be any more dangerous than those so called bandits?”
                “Danger is not always physical, nor so obvious,” Rukus argued.  “There could be any number of reasons to be wary of this girl.”
                Nimen scoffed and shook his head.  “Do you think she is a spy?”
                “There is no point in guessing at this point,” Rukus replied.  “Until it can be proved otherwise, I will view her as a threat.”
                “Bah!  You are being ridiculous.”
                “Perhaps, but if not…”
                Nimen shook his head.  “Enough,” he growled, waving his hand at Rukus with a flick of his wrist.
                Rukus shrugged and both continued riding in silence.  Several full horse strides behind them, out of earshot, Jalen and Mayla rode in silence.  He smiled to himself as he eyed his two friends, almost chuckling as they fell silent.  Mayla looked to them with a puzzled look then to Jalen and back again.  Jalen noticed her puzzled her look and could not help smile at her.
                “What…what is it?” Mayla asked.
                “It is nothing, my lady,” Jalen replied.
                Mayla furrowed her brow in confusion.  “But…”
                “My companions were having a lively conversation it seems.”
                “I did not hear them,” Mayla commented with a completely puzzled look on her face.
                “Nor did I,” Jalen replied.  “I know them entirely too well, sometimes to a fault.  They will always have lively conversations.”
                “I see,” she replied, catching his eyes with hers.  A small smile curved her lips and she turned away for a moment.  “So you have been friends for a long time?”
                “Most of my life,” Jalen replied.  “They are almost family.”
                “Almost?” Mayla asked in a soft voice.
                “My family life is complicated,” Jalen replied, being as vague as possible.
                Mayla lowered her head slightly.  “I see.  Mine was as well,” she murmured.
                Jalen arched his eye and studied her for a brief moment, hearing sadness in her voice and words.  He knew to avoid the subject and looked around quickly.  Suddenly he halted his horse and in one fluid movement was off.  Mayla looked back to him with a look of shock, stopping as well to see what Jalen was going to do.  All she could see was him kneeling on the other side of his horse from her.  After a moment he stood again and approached her with one arm behind his back.
                “My lady,” he spoke softly, bowing his head a little.  Before she could say anything, Jalen lifted a small bouquet of flowers exhibiting all colors of the rainbow.  Each one was different and unique yet complimenting each other in the myriad of colors and fragrances.  Jalen extended the bouquet to Mayla with a lowered head.  “A flower alone is very beautiful but together they grow more wondrous than any single one could ever hope to achieve.”  He looked up into her eyes as he continued, “And when gathered with many differing types, their beauty holds no bounds.”
                Mayla sat on her horse staring into Jalen’s.  Her fears subsided as a sense of comfort and security filled every part of her being.  Strength emanated from Jalen’s eyes yet gentleness coated his voice.  Something inside her knew he could be trusted; that he could protect her.  A small tear trickled down her cheek as a smile slowly curled her lips.
                “Thank you,” she whispered, taking the flowers from Jalen.
                Jalen bowed again.  From ahead of them Nimen shouted, “We shouldn’t dawdle all day!”
                Both Jalen and Mayla caught each other’s eyes again, Mayla beginning to blush as both started to laugh.  “He is right, my lady,” Jalen murmured.  “Let us be on our way again.”
                “Of course,” Mayla replied.  She watched Jalen get back on his horse and the both of them began to ride again, catching up with Rukus and Nimen.
                  They rode again for some time in silence at a gentle pace, neither too fast nor slow.  After some time riding Mayla quirked her neck slightly and looked toward Jalen, asking, “Jalen?”
                “My lady?” he replied, facing toward Mayla.
                “Where are we going?”
                Jalen thought for a moment then began to laugh while shaking his head.  Nimen looked back to him with a puzzled look on his face.  “What is it?”
                “We are such rude traveling companions,” Jalen replied.  “We have been traveling with lady Mayla for some time now without as much as a word about ourselves.”
                Nimen’s eyes widened as his face changed from mild puzzlement to embarrassed shock.  “How could we forget our manners?” he asked.
                Rukus merely gave a brief glance back to them and continued to ride in silence as Nimen slowed his horse to ride on the opposite side of Mayla from Jalen.  With eyes that surveyed every part of their surroundings, Rukus was unwilling to compromise their safety.  He could not let any distractions keep them from their mission.  Listening carefully to their conversation while keeping a constant vigil, Rukus did his best to discern anything he could from Mayla.
                “Well,” Nimen started, “what do you want to know about us?”
                “Where are we going?” she asked.
                “We are heading to the Shrine,” Jalen replied.
                Mayla nodded slightly.  “What is that?”
                Both Nimen and Jalen looked to each other for a brief moment then to Mayla.  “You have never heard of the Shrine?” Jalen asked.
                Rukus had stopped surveying their surroundings, concentrating on Mayla’s words now.  Mayla looked between Nimen and Jalen uncomfortably.  “No.  I have not,” she replied.  Her brow began to furrow as puzzlement and disbelief blanketed their faces.  Thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to think of any shrine she had heard of.
                “She does not know of the Shrine?” Rukus thought to himself, feeling his assumptions were reaffirmed by the new revelation.
                Jalen thought for a moment as Nimen continued to speak with Mayla.  “The Shrine is…a very sacred place for us.”
                Mayla cringed slightly at Nimen’s use of the word “us”, feeling alienated from her rescuers now.  All she could do was sit on her horse as it followed along with the others, completely baffled and speechless.  “I…”
                “It is the place where the heavens and the earth touched,” Jalen finally said, “Where the past, present, and future are one.  It is the one place where the divine and mortal can exist in each other’s presence.”
                “I see,” Mayla replied softly.  Uncertainty flowed through her thoughts as she began to consider her safety with her companions in jeopardy.
                Jalen nodded; his face blank.  Memories flooded his mind of his first and only visit to the Shrine.  Mayla looked between him and Nimen who was trying his best to not stare in shock.  She looked down and bit her lower lip as her blood began to course through her veins faster and harder.  Her face grew warmer as well as the sound of her pulse inside of her head.
                Rukus continued to ride on as if he had heard nothing even though his thoughts raced through his mind.  “How could anyone of this age be unaware of the Shrine?  This does not bode well,” he thought to himself.
                “Is this shrine for the High Father?” Mayla asked, trying to salvage the situation.
                Nimen looked to her, puzzlement covering his face before a smile began to stretch across his lips.  “She was teasing us all along!” he shouted.
                Mayla widened her eyes, not sure if she was scared or relieved.  She looked to Jalen who continued to stare blankly for a moment then faced Mayla, staring deep into her eyes.  For a moment she could not tell what he was thinking, his face completely unreadable.  Then a gentle smile slowly emerged.  Mayla felt comforting warmth fill her at seeing his smile and could not help but smile in return.
                Looking up to the darkening sky Jalen murmured, “Dusk is upon us.  Perhaps it will be best if we rested for the night and continue on our way in the morning.”
                “A brilliant idea!” Nimen exclaimed.
                Rukus suddenly turned his horse off to the right of the road, pointing out to between a small collection of hills.  “There.  The valley will keep us hidden from passersby along the road.”
                Jalen nodded.  “Then let us make camp.”
                Mayla smiled, already pushing their conversation behind to move on.  As they rode further to the valley Nimen began to explain to her about the relationship the three friends shared.  He carefully avoided detailed answers about their status, an instinctive action they used when they were away on unofficial business.  Mayla listened to Nimen, enjoying his stories of various exploits and endeavors that the three of them have had through the years.  Jalen watched her carefully as Nimen talked, realizing something about her he could not see until now.  Something that he shared in common with the young lady before him and it concerned him.
                He noticed Rukus was also watching Mayla, studying her even more intently.  It was not surprising to Jalen, knowing full well that Rukus would not trust someone so as easily as he himself did.  That was his nature, though Jalen could see in his eyes that Rukus still found Mayla to be a puzzle.  Looking back to her Jalen could not find any evidence to contradict his assumption.  Mayla, like himself, had a noble upbringing.  Her clothing alone suggested a rich family background yet her mannerisms and speech, though somewhat different, was mistakably learned through years of study and tutoring.  The unique mix of familiar and foreign traits about her deepened the enigma surrounding their “damsel in distress”.
                With a look to Rukus, Jalen could not help but imagine the thoughts running through his companion’s mind.  Anything from assassin to spy to another demonic attack could be occupying his thoughts right now.  Jalen smirked slightly and shook his head.
                “In two days time we will arrive at the Shrine,” he thought to himself.  “I can only pray that Massath has completed the Trial.”

''Chosen 8''

      '' Chosen 8''

      By;fernand jiro

To understand the past is to know the future.

Proverb from Clan Roaz

 

                “More food!  More Ale!  More dancers!” bellowed Mornic with childlike glee as he raised his mug into the air.  Even though the constant murmuring and music of the tavern atmosphere drowned his shouts out the elderly priest grinned ecstatically.  With another gulp from his mug Mornic let out a contented sigh and looked to the stage again as a new group of dancers appeared to entertain the crowd.

 

                To his right sat Citro brooding over their circumstances.  He attempted to slink lower in his chair to hide from any attention Mornic might have brought.  With a continual sweep of his eyes he kept a constant vigil of their surroundings.  Much to his relief it seemed as if Mornic was actually one of the quieter patrons to the establishment, as well as one of the more polite.

 

                “Come’ ere!” shouted one of the other patrons while attempting to climb up onto the stage, his eyes set on the lead female dancer.  The dancers kept to their routine while two stage guards quickly tackled the unruly patron and hauled him out the front door.  A burst of laughter filled the room while the dancers, seemingly unfazed by the interruption, continued with to the end of their routine.

 

                “An excellent performance!” exclaimed Mornic at the end of the show, jumping to his feet and applauding vigorously.  “The fire dancer near the beginning was most talented!”

 

                “Please Sir Kaliste, can you try to keep yourself from being noticed,” Citro grumbled.

 

                Mornic sat back down, keeping his eyes fixed on the stage for the next show.  “You do not agree?  She was very…exhilarating.”

 

                Citro gave Mornic a cross look.  “This is not about that dancer.”

 

                “She was also quite attractive, if I might add.”

 

                “Sir Kaliste,” blurted Citro, struggling to hold onto his patience.  “Please focus.”

 

                As the next show began Mornic again jumped to his feet to applaud.  “I am perfectly focused, my brooding friend.”

 

                “I am not speaking about the girl that is center stage, my priestly friend,” Citro replied in a dry tone.

 

                Mornic laughed as he sat back down and looked to Citro.  “You seem distracted.”

 

                “We are alone in a strange land,” Citro stated firmly.  “We do not know where we are, where our companions are, or how we can return home.  The past three days we have had done nothing but visit taverns and other places of…entertainment, all at your request.”  Citro paused for a moment before saying, “Why does a priest wish to visit such places?”

 

                Mornic sat back in his chair and smiled.  “I go where I am led.  Besides, ‘Demon’s Landing Tavern’ has a pleasant ring to it,” he added with a mischievous grin.

 

                Citro scoffed.  “You believe this is a place that the High Father would lead you?”

 

                “Would a temple be more to your liking?” Mornic asked.

 

                “A temple will at least have some answers.”

 

                “What questions do you have?”

 

                Citro’s patience began to buckle as the circular conversation worn on.  “Sir Kaliste,” he growled softly.

 

                Mornic grinned as he softly spoke.  “This land is called Coradain.  It borders several other nations with many lucrative trade agreements and alliances throughout this area.  There is one major rival in a neighboring kingdom but at the moment they are at a stalemate, one that promises to last as both are part of some form of alliance.”

 

                A dumbfounded expression slowly crept across Citro’s face.  After a moment of stunned silence he murmured, “How…”

 

                “By listening,” Mornic replied as he pointed out to the crowd.  “There are a few foreign words but most is rather understandable and surprisingly similar.”

 

                “You were expecting they talk in a different way?” Citro asked.

 

                “Language, my friend, is different everywhere.  Though all the Crowns speak the same there are differences, quite noticeable ones.  It was not hard to imagine that people so far away from us would speak with entirely different words.”

 

                Citro pondered the thought a moment.  “But…they speak…”

 

                “As I said,” replied Mornic.  “There are a few foreign words but most are…”

 

                A loud crash interrupted Mornic, startling both of them, as a pale looking man burst into the tavern.  The sound was barely noticeable to the crowd as a whole and only those nearest the door took notice of the incident, including Mornic and Citro.  Stuttering as he talked, the man tried to pass on what seemed to be urgent news to the owner of the tavern.  Mornic pointed in their direction and listened as intently as he could.

 

                “That’s nonsense!” the tavern owner shouted.  “This is a reputable establishment and does not need the likes of you spreading rumors like that!”

 

                “I tell you it’s true!  I saw it with my own eyes!” replied the man.  “The whole High Honor Guard had to subdue it!”

 

                The tavern owner waved to one of the stage guards and pointed to the frantic man.  With a nod and a somewhat sadistic grin the guard approached the man and took a firm hold onto the back of his neck.  After a small struggle the man was thrown out onto the street to the sound of applause for the ending of the show on stage.  Under cover of the cheering crowd three hooded figures silently made their way to the bar.  After a brief exchange of words with the tavern owner the figures silently left.

 

                Mornic arched his eyebrow as he watched the three leave.  “Very strange,” he whispered.

 

                “Hmm?” murmured Citro.  “What did you say?”

 

                “Nothing of consequence,” replied Mornic as he returned his gaze to the stage.  Citro shrugged, giving up on trying to understand the priest’s way of thinking.  Mornic chuckled to himself as memories flooded his mind.  The images of that special night so long ago were vivid in his mind as a realization came to him.  “Royalty is such a burden,” he thought with a mischievous smile.

 

                A sudden, large uproar broke Mornic’s train of thought.  A fight had broken out near the stage, injuring one of the stage guards.  The other did his best to hold his side but to little avail as two of the more rowdy men climbed on stage to claim a private show for themselves.

 

                “Ah…you’re a fine looking young one,” snarled the larger of the two men as he grabbed for one of the dancers.  Both were unshaven and covered in filth, which dirtied the costumes of any dancer they reached for.  Most of the dancers fled backstage, only two being held captive.

 

                The smaller of the two cheered out.  “We’re going to have fun tonight, right Carwe!” he shouted.

 

                “Yes we are, Ferd,” the taller man, Carwe, replied as he sniffed his dancer’s scent deeply.

 

                After another cheer an empty bottle flew through the air and shattered on Ferd’s head.  Carwe watched his accomplice falter back a few steps, letting his dancer run away, then turned to see Citro slowly approach the stage.

 

                “I do not believe they wish to go with you,” he stated flatly.

 

                Cawre furrowed his brow.  “What’d you say?  Ferd, get him,” he ordered with a motion of his head.

 

                Ferd jumped down from the stage and charged Citro.  The royal guard calmly sidestepped at the last moment and launched his fist into Ferd’s gut, sending the would-be kidnapper to the floor in pain.  Then with a kick of his right leg Citro sent Ferd flying onto his back.

 

                “As I was saying,” Citro stated again,” I do not believe they wish to go with you.”  He slowly turned his eyes to look into Carwe’s.  The dancer broke free as her captor’s arms slowly loosened around her and ran to freedom backstage.

 

                Carwe looked back to the fleeing dancer then to Citro.  Without saying a word he jumped down and slowly approached the would-be hero.  Citro stood there calmly, watching his moves carefully.  In an instant Carwe lunged to Citro, a dagger suddenly in hand and aimed for Citro’s torso.  With another sidestep the royal guard grabbed Carwe’s wrist and twisted, adding his free hand to Carwe’s shoulder for leverage, sending him to his knees and the dagger to the floor.

 

                Citro quickly pushed Carwe further down, almost to the point of falling over, and held him there until the other stage guard could get to them.  “Thank you, sir,” he said politely before taking Carwe away.

 

                Mornic slowly strode up beside Citro with a large smile, saying, “Very well done, my friend.”  A plentiful bounty of ideas sprung to life as he glanced around.  “Perhaps we can use this to our advantage.”  Citro looked sideways to Mornic, not sure what to make of the priest’s tone of voice.  Mornic turned and began to walk to the tavern owner, his classic smile etched upon his face.

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

                Outside of the Demon’s Landing Tavern the three robed figures mounted their horses and rode off at full gallop.  They pushed their horses as hard as they could passing through the dense forest off the main trail.  Light from the sun overhead pierced through the green canopy when it could, causing tricks of light and shadow to be played on the minds of the riders.

 

                One of the riders suddenly stopped his horse and called out to the other two.  “This is madness!”

 

                The leading rider halted his horse and turned to look back.  “Madness?” he asked calmly.  “If it is true then I have to see it for myself.”

 

                “But a demon strong enough to require the entire High Honor Guard?”

 

                “Which is why we must see to this immediately, Nimen,” replied the lead rider.  “If the High Honor Guard was truly called on for such a creature then it is a matter of urgency that we find out what it is.  If not then we must quell the rumors.”

 

                Nimen was silent a moment, contemplating what was just said, then nodded his head.  “As you wish.”

 

                The third rider motioned ahead of them.  “We should be on our way.”

 

                “Of course Rukus,” acknowledged the lead rider.

 

                They took off again as fast as they could along a path they knew all too well.  Subtle landmarks told them which direction they should go.  It was a path that only they knew of, one they took when secrecy was important.  It was off the main road that led to Baslaen, the capital of Coradain, that many travelers took if they wished to visit.  There would always be too many people along that road for the three riders to do their business.  It would always be impossible to ride out in the open, especially now with rumors spreading of a demon attack.

 

                The sunlight nearly blinded them as the three riders burst out into the open from the woods.  Before them, towering proudly, stood the brilliant white wall of Baslaen, surpassed in height only by the glistening palace itself.  For a brief moment the riders stared in awe, never ceasing to be amazed by it.

 

                Rukus rode ahead to a tall hedge near the wall and dismounted.  The other riders followed and waited as Rukus slid behind the hedge.  After a few moments he came out again with a nod and led his horse with him, disappearing between the hedge and wall.  The other two riders dismounted and did the same, slipping between the hedge and wall and entering a small passageway through the wall and down under the city itself.

 

                There was an extensive series of catacombs under the city with several entrances scattered randomly around the wall behind similar hedges.  Torches spread throughout the catacombs provided dim lighting.  The horses with the riders were specially trained to handle the enclosed environment though the riders knew that the faster they made it through the catacombs the better it would be for all.

 

                After several twists and turns the riders began to climb a shall slope up into hidden room.  They unsaddled the horses before carefully leaving the room into a stable.  Each rider took his horse to its respective pen and quietly slipped out into a connected hallway inside the palace.  They made their way to a side room where they removed their hooded robes.

 

                Rukus was a lithe man with long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He stood with perfect posture and balance, always seemingly aware of his surroundings with his dark blue eyes constantly scanning everywhere.  He wore loose fitting clothes of subtle shades of white and light blue.  After removing his robe Rukus moved to the door to make sure act as scout.

 

                Though he was about the same size as Rukus; Nimen was much sturdier.  He had short, curly blond hair and pale blue eyes that seemed to almost exert a force of their own.  There was a commanding presence about him, one that could be felt through his eyes if he stared a person down.  The dominance of red throughout his clothing added to his presence.

 

                “Seems we are being sought after,” Rukus commented as he gazed out from the slightly cracked door to see a patrol of guards passing by.

 

                “Oh?” asked the last figure.

 

                “Where is he?” shouted a voice from the hallway.

 

                “It would seem that ‘we’ actually means him,” Nimen replied to Rukus as he pointed to the last figure.

 

                Rukus nodded.  “I would have to agree.”

 

                A panicked voice echoed through the hallway.  “If we can’t find him it will be our heads!”

 

                “Should we help them?” Nimen asked Rukus with a chuckle.

 

                In a calm, serious voice Rukus replied, “We could take the prize for the find.”

 

                “You both are forgetting one thing.”

 

                “What?” asked Rukus and Nimen together.

 

                With a calm, soothing voice the last figure murmured, “Since our goal is to go out there eventually, and I am going of my own free will, no one will take a prize.”

 

                “He has us there,” Nimen stated.

 

                Rukus nodded and opened the door.  “After you then, your Highness,” he murmured with a bow.

 

                Two guards passing by at that moment looked into the room with widened eyes.  Nimen walked out first calmly as if nothing was out of the ordinary, followed by his ward and Rukus taking up the end.  The two guards merely stared at the three figures walking as if nothing was happening until they turned out a corner and out of sight.

 

                “That…that was the prince wasn’t it?” asked one of the guards.

 

                Prince Jalen strode calmly through the hallways of the palace even as guards and servants stopped to stare in awe and wonder.  The looks in their eyes at least confirmed urgency to the rumor he heard at the Demon’s Landing, if not the actual rumor itself.  His long brown hair, hanging just past his shoulders, flowed gently as he walked through the halls at a slightly fast pace.  The light from windows glittered of the golden inlaid fibers of his tunic white tunic, almost creating a soft aura around his body.  As Rukus and Nimen seemed to be opposites in many ways, Jalen was the balance between them in many ways.

 

                The bright light of the throne room poured out into the hallway as the guards standing watch opened the door for the prince and his companions.  A gentle smile spread across Prince Jalen’s thin face as he paused a moment to accept the radiance that engulfed him.  Both Nimen and Rukus halted as well to wait for him.  After only a brief moment of stillness Jalen resumed his proud stride into the long throne room.  The light that surrounded them came from illumination orbs created by skilled smiths educated in the ways of enchantment.  It always awed Jalen and gave him comfort that the throne room had not seen a shadow for thousands of years.

 

                “Where have you been?” boomed a voice from the other end of the throne room.

 

                “Patience father,” the prince replied as he raised his hand to the king.

 

                “Do not lecture me about patience!” the king replied.

 

                “King Fuolan,” interjected Nimen.  “It is our fault.  We distracted the prince from his duties.”

 

                King Fuolan paused a moment then relaxed in his throne with a soft laugh and gentle smile.  “It is a high crime to lie to your king, Nimen.”

 

                Prince Jalen strode past his companions, walking down the long forest green carpet that lead to the thrones.  He knelt humbly before his parents before speaking.  “I took Rukus and Nimen to a tavern outside of the city.  I bare the responsibility of our actions alone.”

 

                “Your actions may have saved you, my son,” replied Queen Yelse.

 

                “So the rumors were true then, mother?” asked Jalen as he rose to his feet again.  “There was a demon?”

 

                “There still is,” replied a voice that quietly emanated from the side.  Jalen looked sideways to his right to see a well armored man limp toward him.  His armor was damaged in several places revealing wounds that had been tended to recently.  “We could not kill the beast.”

 

                “Where is it then, Malick?” asked Nimen.

 

                Malik glowered.  “Down in the deepest pit we could find, a fitting prison for such a monstrosity.”

 

                Jalen stepped closer to examine Malik’s wounds.  “What happened?”

 

                Lowering his head, Malik spoke softly to recant the battle.  “An explosion rocked the northern pass through the hill lands early in the morning.  A small expedition was sent immediately to investigate.  One of the two seers with them was able to communicate the danger just before being slain.”

 

                Rukus stepped forward, asking, “What was the motive of the creature?”

 

                “Death,” Malik growled.

 

                With a nod Rukus continued.  “Who lead the expedition?”

 

                “Jornar did.”

 

                “I see,” Rukus murmured in a soft voice.

 

                Jalen looked back to Rukus for a moment and saw what he was thinking then looked back to Malik.  “It was then that you ordered the High Honor Guard to assault the demon?”

 

                Malik nodded.  “The king was in a prior engagement and could not be disturbed and since you were not available I made the decision.”  Jalen noted the bite of venom in Malik’s voice.  “We found the beast too much for a full attack…losing many brave souls in its path of destruction.  After the first wave we knew it would not succeed.”

 

                There was a brief pause.  “But,” Jalen murmured as he sensed hesitation in Malik’s words.

 

                “I called forth the channelers to bind the beast’s power.  With its claws cut we easily overwhelmed it.”

 

                “So now the channelers are below keeping it alive but powerless, correct?” Jalen asked.

 

                “Yes,” replied Malik.  “Until we can ascertain exactly what it is and where it came from it was decided that the beast must be kept alive.”

 

                Jalen nodded.  “I see.”

 

                Malik furrowed his brow somewhat.  “You do not seem pleased with the tactics used.  Perhaps if you had been available…”

 

                “Hold your tongue!” shouted Nimen.

 

                Jalen calmly lifted his hand to stop Nimen’s oncoming verbal assault.  “What’s done is done,” he said softly.  “Now if you will excuse me.”  He turned to face the king and queen.  “Father, mother,” he said with a deep bow then turned to exit the throne room.

 

                “Where are you going, son?” asked Queen Yelse.

 

                “I must attend to some personal matters before I speak to the High Honor Guard to apologize for my absence.”

 

                Queen Yelse nodded.  “Be well my son.”

 

                Jalen smiled to his mother before continuing out of the throne room.  Rukus and Nimen followed closely behind.  When they had left the room Malik hobbled over to stand before the thrones with a lowered head.  After a brief moment of stillness and silence the king spoke.

 

                “Is there something further, Malik?”

 

                Malik stood slowly, painfully.  “I do not wish to spread ill will, your Highness, but…”

 

                “Speak your mind,” glowered King Fuolan.

 

                “As you wish, your Highness,” Malik replied after a moment of hesitation.  “Your son and I were trained together throughout our childhood, as it has always been with our families since the founding of the High Honor Guard.”

 

                “Yes.”

 

                Malik continued as he chose his words carefully.  “The prince always seemed to have a natural talent, a gift if you will, for the training and subsequent challenges of the High Honor Guard.  I am sure you have noticed his…lack of focus?”

 

                Queen Yelse leaned forward in her throne.  “Are you suggesting that my son does not care to defend his kingdom?  If so…it is a serious accusation.”

 

                “Your Highness,” responded Malik with a low bow, tensing up as pain bolted through is body.  “I merely report what I have noticed.  This is not the first time he has been away while he was needed.  If I recall correctly the bandits of Vastue almost succeeded in deposing you.  Was the prince not away on some personal exploit at the time without anyone’s knowledge?”

 

                “Massath was quite capable of handling those vagrants,” replied the queen.

 

                The king stood slowly with a stern look on his face.  “Your observations have been taken into account, Malik.  We thank you for your service to Coradain.  A great tragedy has been avoided by your quick actions.”  The king bowed to Malik before continuing.  “You are dismissed.”

 

                Malik knelt again, the pain obvious in his face.  “As you wish, your Highness.”

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

                After leaving the throne room the trio walked for a few minutes in silence without any rhyme or reason to their directions.  Jalen lead while Rukus and Nimen followed without question.  They walked the halls without uttering a word to each other, each knowing that who would speak first.  Finally Jalen broke the silence.

 

                “Jornar,” he murmured softly.

 

                Rukus nodded.  “Indeed.”

 

                Nimen arched his brow before realizing what they meant.  “You believe Jornar attacked without provocation?”

 

                “It is…was in his nature,” replied Jalen.  “Either Malik disregarded a first strike on Jornar’s part, the seer with him did not project the entirety of the expedition, or the being held below is truly a demon of destruction.”

 

                Nimen stopped suddenly.  “I do not care for any of those choices,” he stated flatly.  “The High Honor Guard does not strike first but if necessary we strike last.  It is one of our highest codes.”

 

                “It is not a pleasing thought.  Neither is the idea of a seer not projecting,” commented Rukus, “but there does not seem to be any other answer at this time.”

 

                “We must keep our eyes open,” Jalen stated.  “Bringing something of such power into the very heart of Coradain is not a very wise maneuver, even if the High Honor Guard was at full strength.  I am surprise father agreed to it.”

 

                “Because of Massath,” Nimen stated flatly.

 

                Both Jalen and Rukus turned sharply to Nimen then to each other with knowing looks.  Jalen lowered his head.  “It is not something Massath would have done though.”

 

                “No,” replied Nimen.  “But the king’s decision may have been swayed because Malik is Massath’s younger brother.”

 

                “It is not beyond comprehension,” Rukus murmured.  “Massath’s leadership of the High Honor Guard was always well beyond excellence.  Perhaps the king believed some of that brilliance wore off on Malik.”

 

                Jalen’s eyes widened for a moment as he looked up into his companions’ eyes.  “We must be wary.  There is movement in the shadows.”

 

                Nimen looked around slowly, eyeing the corners and small spaces.  Rukus coughed softly and whispered, “He spoke metaphorically.”

 

                A shade of red swept over Nimen’s face at Rukus’s words.  “I…knew that.”

 

                They shared a smile before continuing on their way.  “We must seek out Massath,” Jalen added after a long period of silence.

 

                Nimen furrowed his brow.  “He is undertaking the Ordeal.  We would be forbidden to leave the palace if anyone knew our destination.”

 

                “Then no one will know,” Jalen replied confidently.

 

                “It might seem odd if all three of us were to disappear,” mentioned Rukus.  “Again.”

 

                Jalen paused in mid-stride.  “These are odd times.”

 

                “When do we leave?” asked Rukus.

 

                Before anyone could answer Nimen interjected, “What about the demon?  Perhaps our investigations should start with it.”

 

                “No,” Jalen said flatly with a small shake of his head.  “It will be guarded and watched very closely.  Our safest route is to disappear and bring Massath back.”

 

                “And if he is not finished with the Ordeal?” asked Rukus.

 

                “We do what we must,” Jalen answered before continuing on down the hallway.  Rukus and Nimen looked to each other then hurried to catch up.  “We will leave before sunrise tomorrow.”

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

                The evening sun sent out the final rays of light for the day as it passed below the horizon for its nightly rest.  Nocturnal creatures began to wake, their new day beginning.  Leaves rustled and flew as the wind picked them up for a twilight dance.  All the activity of the day was slowly replaced with the activity of the night.

 

                At the Demon’s Landing Tavern the activity changed little.  The patrons and visitors cheered as they drank and went about their business, talking about their adventures or gambling in various card games.  The faces had changed but the atmosphere was the same, one of drunken joy and inebriated contentment.

 

                Sitting in a corner tucked away from view was Mornic staring into a half empty mug of ale.  Instead of the carefree spirit that cheered for exotic dancers earlier in the day, the aging priest sat in quiet reflection.  He moved little for a long time as those around him drank, talked, and gambled.  There was the occasional fight but it was always broken up before things could get out of hand.  Mornic had to smile at his own genius when thinking about the situation.  Looking up he saw Citro watching him from the far side of the room.

 

                The royal guard was now a tavern guard, hired after Mornic spoke to the tavern owner.  His smooth tongue won Citro a job and both of them temporary accommodations.  The look on Citro’s face told Mornic he was not enjoying his new job but both knew it was necessary for the time being.  Food and shelter had been harder and harder to come by.  Mornic was fortunate enough to have some trinkets from the Church that was valuable enough to sell for some money.  That money was dwindling however and they needed someway of surviving.

 

                Citro carefully watched as Mornic slowly rose to his feet, with staff in hand, and made his through the tavern to the stairs leading up to the second floor.  There was awkwardness in his step and a subtle slur in his movements.  It was somewhat unsettling to Citro to see the priest in a state of drunkenness, one of the leading figures of the Church turning to mortal vices in order to cope with the current circumstances, but there was little he could do about it now.

 

                As Mornic reached the top of the stairs he began to move less by will and more by momentum.  A small shift in his weight would change his direction this way and that until he finally reached his room.  He fumbled with the door for a moment before finally gaining access to the room, pausing a moment to look around.  It was furnished modestly with two beds and a dresser with a mirror.  Between the beds was a nightstand that held a small vase with a single purple flower.  Outside, beside the door, was as small candle that the staff of the tavern lit at night.  Mornic did his best to lift the candle without dropping it and, as carefully as he could, lit the five candles that hung on a stand near the door to provide light for the room.  There was another stand on the opposite of the room that Mornic neglected to light.  Instead he replaced the candle on its hook on the outside of the room and entered, closing the door softly.

 

                “What a life such as we live,” he murmured as he stumbled to the dresser, “that we may entertain those on high.”  Mornic looked into the mirror and squinted, trying to make up for his failing vision and blurred sight brought on by the nights drinking.  He thought about the quote he murmured that was from one of the famous storycrafter Roku Bensin’s plays.  He could not remember the name or the plot, only the line that seemed to fit his life so well.  “What rubbish!” he exclaimed.  He slumped down, leaning against the dresser, and began to breath long, slow, deep breaths.  “Life must be a cruel play.”

 

                He slowly stood erect and removed his robe, letting it drop to the ground.  His eyes drifted down to the image of a tiger tattooed to his chest.  For what seemed like an eternity he stood there staring at the deformed image.  It was stretched in awkward ways, pulled over his chest and stomach.  Memories of the past filled his mind, the barriers he put in place weakened by the drinking and exhaustion of the day.  The barrage of images wracked his mind as Mornic stood there, accepting their vengeful attacks.

 

                The staff he held in his hand slowly slipped from his grip and fell to the ground, the clanking of wood against wood startling the priest back to the present.  He looked down to it with a sigh and a hard swallow.  Again the images filled his head, more focused in theme and nature.  Memories of his life prior to the monastery assaulted him with barrage after barrage.

 

                “The Tiger,” he murmured softly.  “The…Infamous Tiger, Champion of Tournaments.  What a wretched…pitiful existence.”  Mornic sighed softly, failing to convince himself that he did indeed, in a small way, miss his youthful days as the champion, and to some the scourge, of the Tournaments.

 

                More memories assaulted his mind’s eye as he stared at his staff.  They came to life as he fell deeper into their grasp.  He could feel the wind blow, causing sand to wear against his exposed skin.  Sweat covered his body as the sun bore down onto the sand covered arena floor as he stood before a familiar looking young man.  Both men stood in the middle of the small arena facing each other.  Both men held a staff in their hands.  The young man held his awkwardly in a defensive position while trying to hide the frightful look in his eyes.  Mornic calmly rested it against his shoulder as he stood relaxed.  His symbol, the tiger tattoo, was exposed on his shirtless torso for the man to see as he covered his excellent physique.

 

                “Are you ready, Lord Jaedan?” asked the young man.

 

                A grin slowly spread across Mornic’s face.  “You sure you want to do this, kid?  I never go easy on an opponent.”

 

                “I…I am not some dog you can kick around!” shouted the man.

 

                Mornic shook his head, his long, black, wavy hair swaying carefree across his face.  “I do not know whether you are brave, foolish, or incompetent.”  Mornic locked eyes with the young man before him, staring deep into them.

 

                “This is the only recourse I have left!”

 

                A look of realization suddenly appeared on Mornic’s face.  “If this is about the harlot then you are both foolish and incompetent.”

 

                “Shut up!” shouted the man as he charged Mornic.  “I will make you pay, Jaedaen!”

 

                Mornic shook his head and readied himself just before his attacker came into striking distance.  With a quick swipe he was able to deflect his opponent’s clumsy attack and counter with another swipe across his face, sending him down to the ground.

 

                “What a wretched…pitiful existence,” he commented to the defeated young man.  “Next time know your place.”  Mornic turned and walked away, shaking his head.

 

                “Jaedaen!” exploded a shout from behind.  Mornic turned to see the young man charging again.  In a brief instant Mornic reacted by thrusting his staff forward, striking the young man’s throat, collapsing it.  The man fell to his knees, struggling to breathe, before falling down to the ground.  He lay there completely still at Mornic’s feet who only stood staring.