NOTE TO THE READER: Some very minor changes have been made that do affect your understanding of the story. Basically, I wince every time I read the name I gave Meridel’s country and her corrupt Prime Minister. So, I changed them. The name of Meridel’s country is now Aerisae and Gical has been changed to Renkol. Just thought I should let you know, so that you have some idea of what I am talking about. ☺ Oh, and the names have not yet changed in the previously posted chapters.

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Chapter Eight

Sarina buried her thoughts into the morning chores as the sun warmed the cheery interior of her childhood home. Laughter filled the walls, as it always did; yet this morning she barely heard it. Knots of fear twirled in her stomach and threatened the safe circle of daily life that she was trying to confine herself in. She could not shake the image of the night; it haunted her. He had been watching her. He had seen her as no other had, completely open and vulnerable. The veil had been lifted away, and he had been staring into the very depths of her soul.

Sarina jumped at the sound the door opening, but a quick look only showed the happy pursuit of three of her children chasing the sandy-colored cat into the cottage. She shoved her hands into a bucket of sudsy water vengefully as she pushed the fear back down. For a moment, she selfishly wondered if perhaps she could lock all the doors and keep out the man she feared. She didn’t know how she would face him.

An image of his face flitted to the forefront of her mind, and Sarina stilled. He had been captivated by her; she would never forget the emotions that had been written across his face. She didn’t know how to describe the smile that he had before he realized she saw him, but deep within her heart she cherished it. Another wave of emotion washed against the fortress she had built around herself that morning, and a sigh escaped against her will. She was not ready for Arnan Romany to have come.

“Sarina?” Jayr’s voice rang into her thoughts, “Are we ready to break the fast?”

Sarina turned away from her work to find her patchwork family mulling around the table laden with fruit and bread, the little one’s eyeing the food hungrily. A smile spread across Sarina’s face and she nodded to her brother. A flurry of activity erupted as the family moved to their favorite places, the five littlest all vying for the best spot on their bench. In the corner of the room the Princess and the boy stood like lost children, afraid to join the merriment. With a nearly silent creak of the door, Arnan entered her home and moved to their side. His deep green eyes flitted up to meet hers with a questioning gentleness, and Sarina felt a sudden rush of heat in her cheeks.

Embarrassment flooding her senses, she turned to busy herself with the morning meal as Jayr called their guests to the table. A knowing glance from her brother only served to further redden her cheeks, and Sarina moved to sit with the little ones to avoid the flurry of emotions on the other side of the table. Yet, she could not remove the image his soft green eyes from her mind.

_______________________

Arnan sat silently by the creek that ran along side the cottage; just watching the way the water flowed across the few brave strands of grass that ventured to poke their tips into its depths. He was more confused than he had ever been before, and the flow of the water seemed to calm the turmoil in his soul. This was place was calm and quiet, but the peace only served to give him too much time to think. Faces that he had forgotten for years were floating to the surface and it left him unnerved. His brothers and sisters, his victims and his clients, all filtered in a dizzying display of images and emotion through his thoughts. His life in Clio had been so filled with intrigue and danger that he hadn’t had time to reflect on the monster that lived within him. He hadn’t had time to hate himself. Here, in this strange place, there was peace, and it tortured him.

Firm footsteps echoed across the grass behind him, crunching the soft, succulent, stems of life in their wake. Arnan tilted his head just enough to see Jayr approaching. The young man sank to his side, looking immediately at home among the tall reeds that surrounded him.

“You seem restless.” Jayr’s observation murmured through the air as the two men stared into the stream flowing softly by them. Arnan smirked at the young man; he rather liked Jayr. There was an unpretentiousness about him that was infectious, and a freedom accompanied him wherever he went.

“Too much time to think,” Arnan finally responded.

“I think I may be able to assist you there.” Jayr’s sunny smile followed his words, beaming with a secret hidden within him that went beyond description. The lithe An Toan jumped to his feet and offered his hand to Arnan, “We have need of extra hands to complete the room we meant to build for you. With winter approaching, it occurs to me that you would have special interest in this.”

Arnan clasped Jayr’s hand with a returning smile and rose from his riverbed seat. They moved back toward the cottage, and for the first time Arnan noticed a lonely stack of boards awaiting assignment at the southern face of the little home. Several of the older men who lived in refuge there sat near the pile, ready to begin the task that lay before them. Arnan moved quickly to catch Jayr’s striding step, and grabbed the young man’s arm, a haunting question still burning in his soul

“How could you have been expecting me?”

Jayr turned back towards him and met his eyes with a penetrating gaze.

“What do you know about prophecy?”

“Nothing more then old wives’ tales.”

Jayr stared into his eyes deeply for a moment longer before turning away.

“Then, I think, perhaps those questions should remain unanswered.”

_______________________

Sarina sighed as she surveyed her small kingdom, and the flurry of activity that consumed it. The three travelers had been in her home for three nights and as of yet she had not truly spoken with any of them. She had taken advantage of the men’s work on the cottage to start the final fall cleaning before the snows. The task was overwhelming to her, and she barely knew where to begin. The cottage appeared small, and homely to the eye, but with the clever construction of the An Toan people it was quite a bit larger than anyone would guess.

The cottage was home to twenty wanderers, their three new additions withstanding. The little cottage boasted two levels, nearly hidden in the trees and frame, and series of earthen rooms hollowed out below the foundations where the elders slept. Every nook and cranny was utilized, and built with hidden panels and storage spaces. It was a defense, making the most important building in the town seem small and insignificant, but Sarina dearly despised this whenever it came time to cleanse the building. Sighing deeply, she plunged into her task, keeping a wary ear listening to the children as they worked away in other rooms.

Sarina stilled when she realized that someone was watching her; she turned to find the young Aerisaen princess standing in uncomfortable silence in the doorway of the hall. The girl stood like a lonely figure, framed in light, waiting for life to be breathed into her statuary frame.

“Where is the boy?” Sarina motioned for the Princess to join her.

“With Arnan,” the girl’s simple reply came as she sank to her knees next to Sarina, the soft folds of the simple dress she had donned shifting lightly about her ankles. Silence ensued as Sarina waited for Meridel to speak, but the girl seemed content to examine the floor beneath her skirt.

“’Tis not usual for someone like you to be so silent,” Sarina observed gently. Meridel’s head shot up in a surge of defiance.

“Because I am to be a spoiled palace brat?” The words were quickly spat towards Sarina, but just as quickly the defiance disappeared into a smile as Meridel realized her own brashness. Sarina shook her head and matched the princess’ smile.

“Because you were meant to be forerunner of justice.”

“What does that mean?’ Curiosity and confusion mingled together in Meridel’s eyes as the words sunk into her spirit. Sarina only smiled and turned back to her work, but not before catching a glimpse of sorrow wash over the girl from the corner of her eye.

“All three of us are less of ourselves than we ought to be,” Meridel whispered softly. She raised her voice a bit as she continued, “the world does not allow for individuality, I’m afraid.” Meridel dropped her eyes again, and began fingering the hem of her skirt. Sarina bit her lip, a question barely contained behind it; her restraint only lasted a moment before her curiosity overtook her.

“How did you come to be in the care of Arnan Romany?”

Meridel met her gaze once more, this time a cold, emotionless light filled her eyes and all feeling seemed to disappear from the princess’ frame.

“He murdered my parents.”

The words were cold, deathly cold, and filled with unspoken horror. They struck the very core of Sarina’s being with their deadly poison. Fear flew into her heart with the force of a thunderbolt. She had known he would be a thief, but not this.

“Why?” She could barely choke out the question.

Meridel stared at her, still emotionless and devoid of life, but barely containing the raw pain that dwelt so numbly within her. Shaking her head, the girl made no sound. She didn’t know.

“Why did you trust him?”

A little light sprung back into Meridel’s eyes at this, and the girl straightened.

“He did not try to lie to me.”

_______________________

“I cannot do this.”

Sarina’s words were firm and resolute, with them Jayr’s back stiffened and then fell in defeat. He turned to face her with the heavy weights of pain and responsibility clearly written across his brow.

“You must do this.”

“He is a murderer!”

“He is only a lost man, Sar, like any other who has sought protection from you.”

Sarina shook her head in defeat; she was utterly torn. Angrily she wiped away the tears the threatened to spill down her cheeks. Tension filled her body as she tightly gripped the sides of her skirt. Jayr moved to her side and laced his finger up on of the dark curls that framed her face with unequaled tenderness.

“It’s too much for me to bear.”

Jayr smiled at his sister and wiped a cascading tear away.

“Then let Christus be sufficient.”

Chapter Seven

Shadows of deep blue and teal danced through the grey mist that surrounded the Kippur as she glided into a shallow bay on the western coast of An Toan. The soft fall of dew and rain set a chill into Arnan’s bones as he waited for the boat to lay anchor. He knew that the silence of the ship’s crew was only an “Hour of Reverence” in which the faithful prayed to Deus. Yet, with the cover of night and the fear that so constantly permeated his mind the silence only served to increase his tension.

He watched the empty shoreline with studied care, breathing in the deep fragrance of the night. Little more than an abandoned fishing village, the sight that greeted him was surrounded by fog and long shadows cast by the moon. Ever roving, his eyes searched for something they could not find. Two lonely torches spread their soft light through the mist and signaled hope that they would not be greeted by empty memories. Arnan drank in the roaring of the wind as it raced through the trees and let the moisture of the drizzling rain collect on his face.

Meridel stood to his left like a frozen statue draped in maroon cloth, and he marveled at her ability to ignore the damp air that swirled around them. There in the moonlight the lines of hatred and grief melted from her face and Arnan saw for the first time the young girl confined within the pain. Fear was written sharply across her features, speaking the words that his heart was afraid to say. Illuminated by this rage of emotion, the Princess seemed more vulnerable than ever before, and once again the need to surround her in a wall of protection made itself known in his mind.

Calm, yet firm footsteps echoed lightly across the wooden beams of the deck as the Kippur’s Captain moved towards them with the small, sleeping, frame of Pepper draped expertly in his arms.

“The men are ready to lay anchor and have begun the preparation of the long boat. We will go whenever you and your sister are ready.”

“Thank you for the kindness you have shown us, we are forever indebted to you and your men.” Arnan moved to take the small boy from the Captain as he spoke and finally met the elder man’s gaze with a grateful smile. Caedmon returned his smile with a knowing glance before turning his attention to the shore.

“I’m afraid you seek refuge during our High Holy Week, you will find no one save the village guardian here. The others have already made pilgrimage to the capital, as we will do once you are safely on shore.”

“We are thankful for whatever help your guardian can spare,” Arnan replied. “Those as desperate as my Sister and I can hardly ask for anything more.”

“And your humility has not gone unnoted, Master Keene.” Caedmon’s smile widened to a grin as he raised a hand in farewell, “Blessings to you Jada, Deus has surely lifted up his hand to guide you.”

A twinge of guilt and disbelief echoed through Arnan’s veins, but he forced himself to return the farewell before turning to gather their things. The chill of the night was beginning to overtake his senses.

_________________

Their three lonely forms moved in continued silence through the mist, with the sound of the oars splashing behind them. Arnan was half carrying Pepper as the boy sleepily walked along, clinging to Arnan’s cloak and stumbling over the thick roots the protruded from the packed dirt road. They walked desperately on past the blinking torchlight; down the path toward what he hoped would be a place a refuge.

Beyond the two fiery sentinels, an old stonewall rose into the air and through the mist. Covered in vines, the dark, city wall looked nearly abandoned as it stood protectively in the path of any who would seek to intrude. Steadying his heart, Arnan quickened his pace toward the open city gate.

“Do you know where we are going?” The cynicism and fear in Meridel’s voice stood out starkly in the darkness as their footsteps began to echo across the cobblestone that had replaced the dirt.

“Caedmon said that the guardian’s home would be on the other side of the city.”

They fell once more to the uncomfortable silence, listening only to the way their movement echoed off of the pale brick that surrounded them. Arnan could acutely feel the fear that threatened on the edge of his senses as it inched deeper and deeper into his mind. The deathly loneliness that surrounded the buildings of the city was more than oppressive. Each step rang harshly into the dark night.

“He still has not said a word.”

Arnan’s spun his head around to look at the Princess, only to find her gaze on Pepper’s listless steps. She looked up questioningly into his eyes, but Arnan turned back away from her penetrating gaze. He had no answer for her. He was all to well aware that his young, energetic, ward had not spoken a single word since they had first boarded the Kippur, and try as he might he could not change that. The weight of what he had inflicted upon Pepper was heavier upon his shoulders than any other. He was helpless, helpless and weak. Involuntarily, his gaze traveled down to the boy who was clinging to his cloak, only to be greeted by the numb stare that had become a haunt to his dreams.

Relief flooded into his heart as they rounded a corner and were met with the sight of lights blinking in the distance. Effortlessly lifting Pepper into his arms, Arnan walked as quickly as he dared toward a small cottage that whispered rumors of life and safety.

_________________

The cottage was curled against a small river that flowed out toward the Northern city wall, and lay in the protective shadow of towering oaks and willows. As they drew nearer to it, Arnan could hear the sounds of laughter wafting through the walls, and a renewed sense of hope and longing filled his heart. Hesitating only a moment, he raised his fist and knocked on the wooden door. Light flooded from the door and the sound of children’s laughter rang out clearly as the door creaked open from the weight of his fist.

Bright colors assailed his senses as the main room came into view. Surrounded by a sense of peace and family, little brightly clad children skipped around the room and crawled into the laps of a few elderly men who sat before a large stone fire place. The joy of the place was infectious, and Arnan felt a small smile form across his lips. Meridel pressed against him as she moved nearer to the warm light within. Several of the children broke out in lively song as an older boy entered the room playing a fife. Arnan felt himself involuntarily pulled into the freshness of life that existed within the dwelling.

His steps thudded dully on the wooden floor, yet with them the spell was broken. Silence descended over the cottage as the occupants stared at the three intruders. To their right a young woman stood from her position seated at a table. Arnan’s eyes locked with hers as her skin went ashen. The shock in her eyes was not hidden by the soft brown curls that framed her face; her fear was evident by the way she grasped the back of the chair. Another chair scraped, and Arnan’s eyes turned away from the woman’s penetrating gaze. A young man with shockingly similar brown curls and depthless brown eyes was slowly rising from his chair on the opposite side of the table with a lazy smile directed towards the three of them.

The man’s smile turned mischievous as he faced the children that stood frozenly staring at them. Slowly the forgotten tune whispered its way through his lips. Smiles spread across the little faces and the invasion was quickly forgotten in the wake of the joyous dancing and commotion. The web of security rewoven, it seemed that only the smiling man and the woman still frozen in the corner were aware that anything had transpired. The man turned and moved towards Arnan, the lazy smile once again spread across his face.

“I apologize for the coldness with which we met you, I’m afraid that we were not expecting that you would arrive so soon.”

“You were expecting us?” Meridel questioned.

The young man met her question with a look of surprise, glancing from Meridel to Arnan. He shrugged before smiling once more, and inclined his head toward them.

“I am Jayr son of Malchus”

“Arnan Romany,” a shiver passed through Arnan at the sound, it had been nearly three years since he had been afforded the luxury of introducing himself with his given name. “This is Meridel, Princess and heiress of Shanglal, and my charge, Pepper, an orphan who once hailed from your shores.”

Another shiver ran through Arnan as he said the words. He did not know what it was that compelled him to speak the truth, yet he felt as though Jayr would have penetrated his very soul had he done anything else. A grin spread across Jayr’s face, and he bent down to kiss Meridel’s hand.

“We are blessed to have you among us dear lady.” Jayr said. A small smile replaced the alarm on Meridel’s face at their host’s kind words. She met his eyes, and Arnan felt a smile form on his face as hers turned to a demure glance.

“Are you the Guardian?” she asked.

Again, surprise flickered through the young man’s eyes at her question. He looked once more to Arnan’s eyes, but in apparent dissatisfaction he turned his unspoken question back to Meridel.

“No, I am the healer. My elder sister, Sarina, is our Guardian.” Jayr motioned toward the young woman who still stood ashen-faced in the corner. “She is much wiser than I, and I am afraid I would only bring ruin upon us all, were I to be appointed as the Guardian.”

Arnan locked eyes with Sarina once more; this time there was not only shock, but also fear, displayed in the depths of her captivating brown eyes. He for a moment felt as though he could hear her thoughts from across the room. She questioned who he was, yet she did not want to know.

_________________

Sarina watched the young man from the safety of her corner haven. He was taller than she had expected, and his green eyes seemed to pierce her heart. Sorrow seeped through her being as her gaze caressed the stark lines of pain that so evidently held their place on this Arnan Romany’s face. Fear again sent a terrifying volt through her heart; she was not ready for him to have come. She was too young, and there was too much yet to be learned. Yet, there he was standing before her.

She heard, as though in a dream, the sound of her brother explaining their situation for housing. Sarina already intimately knew what faced them. They had a bed for the princess, and the boy would be well taken care of, but they had no room for the man who stood before her. They were not ready for him to have come. Yet, there he stood.

The repetition of her thoughts seemed absurd, yet Sarina could not pull herself out of the veil of shock that had descended upon her when Arnan had walked through her doors. She was left completely speechless. Numbly she heard the man say that he would make his resting place down the road, but she could not find the words to protest this. Silently she stood like a statue, her racing mind building ever in intensity, as he turned and walked out the door.

_________________

Arnan walked slowly through the woods that lined the rear of the guardian’s home, coming to rest beneath an ancient birch tree that had ascended nearly to the heaven’s above. Slowly moving up the branches, Arnan joined the tree in its heavenly abode. He did not relish the idea of sleeping in the tree’s branches, but he could not sleep on the ground. The cold air bit at his cheeks as he settled against several interwoven branches. The beginning sounds of winter could be heard whispering through the leaves.

Arnan started from his precarious position at the sound of the cottage door closing. Somewhere below him, soft footsteps echoed with the sound of softly spreading grass. Panic momentarily welled in his heart as thoughts of Gical surged through his mind, yet they quickly fell away. He silently chided himself for the needless fear; the intruder of his solitude had come from the cottage.

Curiosity sang persistently through his veins, and finally Arnan began a slow and silent descent towards the ground in search of the footsteps. He stilled instantly when she came into view. Sarina stood in a circle of trees at the base of the birch, perfectly placed in the midst of the forest glade in such a way that the moonbeams caressed her dark shimmering tresses with reflections of light. The damp colors of the deepest night swirled around her, drinking in the light that seemed to pour out of her. Her closed lids were raised to the sky, almost as if she were waiting for the sound of someone calling her name, and silently she began to dance to a tuneless song that echoed around him.

The song was throbbing, and somehow it seemed to merge with the deepest cries of his heart. Yet, she was not dancing for him. Thoroughly captivated, Arnan studied her every movement and let himself dwell deeply in her grace. Everything within him cried to turn away his gaze from the sacredness of what he saw, and yet he could not. Unconsciously, he began moving further down the tree towards the dancing figure. A branch snapped under the weight of his hand, echoing like a destructive throb through the night. The song was gone, the dancing stilled, and for only a moment her gaze met his. She ran.

Chapter Six

Arnan melted in and out of the crowd of bright colors and loud bartering. Torinth was the largest port city in Dibaine, and was home to more then one networked crime industry. Some people called it a Fool’s home but any fool who dared to enter its gates found himself walking away without the clothes that once covered his back. Arnan’s senses were high strung with adrenaline as the moved towards the docks- it was a feeling that he thrived on. His eyes roved back and forth, eyeing the various merchants and vendors. Each was likely also a professional spy for some power within the city, but all were oblivious to his presence. Torinth was the only city in the world corrupt enough that even he could slip by undetected.
Arnan cast a lazy glance toward Meridel. She was working the streets with a professional aire. Even with the complication of toting Pepper along she held her own. Seven paces behind him, four paces to the left. It was an agreed distance that she was managing to keep with perfect timing. A small sliver of respect filtered its way into his mind. She was royalty, and yet she had the savvy of a gypsy. They continued to move in perfect unison toward the shipping district, finally coming to rest on the wharfs. Meridel sat with pepper on the edge of a plank; one hand on a dagger, the other handing Pepper his lunch. Arnan smiled as he realized she was still precisely seven and four paces from him. With a final worried glance toward Pepper’s stony face, he turned to seek a sailor from An Toan.
He tossed through his mind all the possible ways he could greet a captain from the Island and nothing seemed to fit. Arnan had never lowered himself to speaking with one of Deus’ servants, but they weren’t hard to spot. The Toanese sailors were the only honest looking men in the entire city.

“Vecato!?” a rough voice echoed through the air and Arnan’s hand flew to the dagger at his side. “Vecato?” the voice cried again, closer now. Arnan inwardly winced as he recognized the voice. Slowly he turned on his heel to face the man behind him.

“Ivan Morrini, what are doing in Torinth this season? “ Arnan gritted his teeth as he continued, “I thought you reserved the winter months for kidnapping innocent children.” This statement drew a humorless laugh from the grungy man.

“You always underestimate me, Vecato.” Ivan placed his arm around Arnan shoulders and continued with a gleam in his eye. “You see, Vecato, I am a man of many talents, and it so happens that my current talent is winning all of my bets. There is a man over there that wagered I could not find someone so ruthless as to kill off his brat of a child. But of course this man does not know Vecato Sorrell.”

Arnan cringed at Ivan’s words he found it hard to believe that he, as Vecato Sorrell, would have easily taken the job only a year previously.

“You think I am the man for your job?” Ivan nodded and Arnan steeled his will before continuing, “You’ve come to the wrong man, Morrini. I am not the killer I was once.” Ivan’s grip tightened on Arnan’s shoulders and the unmistakable feeling of a knifepoint pressed into his back.

“Always underestimating me, always,” he said. A cruel grin spread across Ivan’s face. “I did not ask you, Vecato. I told you. You will do this.”

“No, “ Arnan firmly responded. Ivan laughed and Arnan’s heart sank as he saw Meridel stiffen in response to a knifepoint at her own back. Ivan’s fingers lifted and began to play with the pendant hanging from Arnan’s neck.

“You’re a very persistent man, Vecato. Shall I slit her throat?”

“No.” The word was submissive this time and Arnan nearly kicked himself for it. He had not heard himself speak with such defeat since the last confrontation with Maeron Duard. His eyes dropped to the ground and he tried to gain control of his raging emotions.

“I knew you could be reasonable.” Ivan smiled and Arnan smirked. “By the way, I’ve already removed all of your gold, and I’ll return it upon getting my money from the bet”

He had no choice.

“What’s the job?”

_______________________

It had been a simple job. The child was born with a defect. There was no struggle, just a simple dispatch. There was a part of him that couldn’t comprehend what he had done, but that part of him was the part he had learned to ignore. He had the money back, Meridel and Pepper were safe, and soon they would depart for An Toan away from Morrini and safe from Gical. That was all that mattered. Or was it? He was haunted by what he had seen in the child’s deep brown eyes. Innocence. This was the first time in many jobs he could not escape from the pervading guilt. It was just a job, it had been necessary, and yet he had never felt more despicable. He was loosing his touch, loosing his ability to separate his emotions from the job. In the past he had simply become cold and heartless, someone other then himself. Now he could not deny, he had killed the girl. It was he, and he alone. Killer. It was not a new title for him. It had been his constant companion for three long years. It’s worn and old status seemed to disappear in the fresh guilt as it attacked him with a new vigor. Everything was over his head. He had waded into the waters too deeply and now found himself being swept away by the current. A broken man now walked in his shoes.

_______________________

Arnan could immediately see that something was wrong as he neared the docks. He berated himself for being so lost in his emotions that he hadn’t noticed before. The alleyways were silent, and the people that filled them were cold and suspicious. Arnan slowed before rounding the final corner leading to the shipping district and cautiously glanced to see what had brought such a cloud of doom over the people of Torinth. A flash of military coats quickly told him all he needed to know: Gical had found them. Meridel and Pepper were nowhere to be seen, and the docks were swarming with Shanglal’s officers. Arnan’s mind began to race as reality came crashing down on him. He was about to turn and run when he noticed a knotted rope hanging down the side of the docks. It was a special knot, one that Aiden had created and taught him when they were quite young. Pepper was the only one who would have known how to tie it; he was sure of it. They were in the water. They had to be. Arnan sprinted down a side alley toward a small inlet. Without a second thought, he tied his cloak around his waist and dove into the water. It was shockingly cold, colder then he had expected. The shallow waters of the inlet had begun to chill in response to the change of season. Arnan struck out beneath the docks, hoping with everything inside of him that he would find Pepper and Meridel on the other end of the knotted rope. He took a deep breath as best he could above the shock of the cold water and dove beneath the surface. His chest felt like it was going to explode when he finally caught a glimpse of burgundy fabric swaying through the water. Arnan surfaced to find Meridel clinging to the rope with one hand and to Pepper with the other. They had been in the water longer then they should have. Pepper was ghostly white and the Princess could not control the shivers running through her body.

“What’s going on?” Meridel’s question came through chattering teeth.

“Gical.” Arnan lifted a hand to wipe away the cold spurts of water running down his face. “Somehow he found us.”

“No.” Meridel was searching his eyes, “Before that, Where did you go?”

Arnan again found himself tortured by the face of the innocent child. He turned his head away from her, he couldn’t even bare to look into her eyes with the guilt that haunted him. He didn’t know what to do other then ignore her. Arnan nervously scanned the horizon as he searched for words that would somehow convey what had taken place in the past few hours. In the distance a ship with white sails and a single red cross was slowly leaving the docks. It was undoubtedly the vessel from An Toan.

“Pepper, can you swim?” Arnan urgently addressed the boy to no avail. Pepper’s eyes were dull and lifeless as he clung to Meridel. “Give the boy to me, Meridel. We have to swim for that ship.” Meridel’s eyes widened and she let him take Pepper from her back. Arnan took a deep breath and began to strike out towards the ship with Pepper clinging to his neck. He could vaguely hear the slight splashing of Meridel behind him.
He had swum distances before, but never had one seemed so long. They had been swimming for an eternity and the ship still lay far out of their reach. The cold was seeping into his bones. They were little more then halfway and Arnan’s muscles were already willing to give way. He could hear Meridel’s ragged breathing behind him. They kept moving forward. Arnan plunged forward, watching only the way the water split in front of him. They had no choice but to go on.

“Man, what are you doing?” a voice came from up above. One of the sailors was yelling at him from the deck. Somewhere up above he heard cries of “man overboard.” He didn’t have the strength to go on; the ship was picking up speed. In a final cry of desperation Arnan yelled the words he dreaded most.

“We seek sanctuary from Christus!”

_______________________

“I am Captain Caedmon. My men say you seek sanctuary.” Arnan bowed his head in respect to the humble man who had just entered the cabin, and saw Meridel curtsy gracefully from the corner of his eye. Caedmon was well built and calm, there was something about him that set him apart from the world. His eyes spoke of curiosity, but no suspicion.

“I am Jada Keene, this is my sister Meira, and our nephew Pepick. We are forever in your debt, Sir.” Arnan paused for a moment to consider a simple tale to explain their behavior, but the Captain raised a hand to stop him.

“We ask no questions of those seeking help from Christus. I only came to inform you that you are welcome here. You can find extra clothing in the trunks along the wall. I’m afraid we have nothing fit for a lady,” the captain inclined his head toward Meridel. “I’ll leave you to dry off from your eventful swim.”

The door of the cabin clanged shut as the captain left, leaving an empty silence. Arnan stared into space trying to collect his scattered thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly. His mind was still reeling about.

“We’re safe.” Arnan started at the sound of the voice. He turned to find Pepper smiling up at him. They were first words the boy had spoken in four days. Arnan wrapped the boy in a hug and held back tears of joy. Meridel met his gaze from across the room, water still dripping from her golden locks. He knew what she was thinking. They were anything but safe. Gical could still follow and attack until they reached the shores of An Toan. He could see the worry in her eyes, but he was concerned she did not fear the right man.

Brown eyes still haunted him. The greatest monster to fear was not Gical, but he.

Chapter Five

Dear Wren,
The time has come again for me to be on my way. I’ve lingered long enough on these shores, and I fear I may become too attached.

Arnan set down the pen and tried to rub away the pain of his throbbing temples. He felt as if all the forces in the universe were intent on crushing him. The headaches had appeared not long after he had first set foot on the shores of Clio, but it had been a long time since one had so completely overtaken his mind. It was nearing morning, and Arnan was still struggling over what was necessary to inform his sister of. Each draft of the letter was steeped in sarcasm and grief, and he was not about to let his younger sister take a mind to read between the lines.

Arnan stared silently at the two children sleeping in the corner of Little Mother’s cottage as he worked up the courage to finish the letter. Each child was bound to him for their existence, and each had in some way placed their trust in him. He was thankful that Pepper was finally sleeping soundly. The boy had woken screaming nearly every hour, since he first fell into his comatose state. It was unlikely that Pepper would have any voice for the next few days. Arnan winced as another wracking pain took his head. He would have almost preferred Pepper’s nightmares to the continual throbbing.

Tomorrow I leave with my ward for the Island of An Toan. It seems ironic that my travels would lead me there, an irony that perhaps you will appreciate. An Toan suffers from the same deeply religious ailment that our parents had when we were young. Your wayward brother may for once try his hand at honest labor, as the inhabitants aren’t likely to need my current skills. Who knows, maybe Deus will show himself powerful in providing for my pour and wretched soul.

The sarcasm was beginning to show itself once again. He had to warn Wren of where he would be, and yet he couldn’t seem to do it without harkening back to the flame of hatred for Wren’s religion that had sparked in his heart. She might think it was strange that he was referring to Pepper as “his ward” but Arnan had already determined that he would not tell her about Meridel. It was likely that the girl would abandon them, and he was not ready to face the questions that would arise at the thought of a young woman traveling along.

Do not worry for me; we are going to a safe place. Give my regards to the others.

He bit back the word, family. They weren’t exactly a family anymore. They were no longer a family because of what he done, or not done. He had disgraced them, destroyed them. Yet, he loved them. Arnan sighed and pushed the piece of parchment away. The words were enough, and he couldn’t stand to think about his siblings any longer. Wren would be satisfied, although worried. He could now block memories of Braedoch out of his mind for another few months before he was faced with another piece of parchment covered with his own bitter words. Arnan slowly folded his letter and gathered up the stack of notes from Wren. The pile kept growing, and only a few of them had been opened. Each piece of parchment contained the concerns of his sister. He had quickly learned that they were too painful to read. It was far easier to simply push any thought of his family away and focus on the job at hand. Every so often he worked up the courage to read one of the letters, and whenever he did Arnan found himself launched into a deadly serious of headaches and nightmares. He knew he was worrying her, but he couldn’t bare the raw pain the letters evoked in his heart.

“What is it that weighs on your brow so heavily, little warrior?” Arnan smiled in spite of himself at the sound of Little Mother’s words. He had never seen himself as a warrior. He fought against the establishment, against rules, against his past, against himself. Aiden and Daelia had referred to him as rebellious, never a warrior. Arnan watched her weathered hands move across the familiar surface of her roughly hewn rocking chair. The firelight flickering across Little Mother’s face seemed to soften the wrinkles of old age, sitting there she almost reminded him of his mother, Lydia. Arnan swallowed hard and tried to think of a response that would satisfy the loving old woman.

“Perhaps it worries me that I have left so many things undone.” The statement drew a chuckle from the fireplace and Arnan once again found he was smiling. “In all honesty I don’t know why I offered protection to the girl. Hiding a Princess from prying eyes is less then simple work.” Especially when she hates you. Another chuckle came from Little Mother.

“You know well enough why you are protecting her, and you know that her royalty will not be the greatest challenge you will face.”

“My life will be in greater danger then it has ever been before, I am aware of that.” He knew that was not what she meant, but he could not force himself to speak the words.

“Arnan.” Her tone was commanding, even disapproving. He ducked his head at the scold in a long forgotten habit. “She has lost her heart, all she knows is grief and rage.” The old woman paused and looked at Arnan with her unseeing eyes. “You must be a father to her, learn to love her as her father loved her.”

“I don’t know how.” His words were a barely audible whisper.

“Deus will show you.” Deus. Arnan bit back the flow of bitter words that echoed through his mind at the sound of the name. He couldn’t see how a being that seemed to be bent on destruction could teach him to be a father. Arnan scraped his chair along the wooden floor and angrily walked over to the window. He didn’t know why he was staring out into the inky blackness, but somehow it reminded him of his heart. He didn’t know how to help Meridel; he didn’t even know how to help Pepper. Every time he tried he seemed to fail. It had been the same with his younger siblings. He had done more damage then good. Arnan knew what he had taught them was inconsistency. He had told them to obey, and then done the very thing they had been forbidden from. Arnan hung his head at the weight of failure that he felt. He was afraid, afraid because he knew that he would simply fail Meridel and Pepper the way that he had failed his family.

Arnan started out of his thoughts as an aged hand began caressing his cheek. He had been so lost in his confusion that he had not even heard Little Mother rise from her chair. She was smiling, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. Arnan covered her small hand with his own and smiled down at her.

“Do not be afraid my little warrior, you will teach her to laugh again.” Little Mother paused and Arnan could sense that she was looking at something with her sightless eyes. A small grin worked its way across her face as she watched a scene unfold in her mind. “You will teach her to laugh again. But I think… I think there will be another Princess who will teach you to cry.”

It was an unsettling statement, and the last thing that Arnan wanted to deal with was more royalty. His curiosity was building, but he could see from the look on Little Mother’s face that she would tell him no more.

“ You leave for An Toan?” Arnan nodded in response, knowing that her question was one she already knew the answer to. She smiled again and brought her hand down to trace the small pendant that hung around his neck. “ It is this greater weight hanging over you for which I worry.”

Arnan bit back tears at her words. The pendant was a gift from his sisters. Wren had convinced Daelia to craft it for his sixteenth birthday. All of the girls had chipped into gathering the necessary silver, and Daelia had painstakingly etched each of their names into the rim of the circle. Wren. Ilara. Aquila. Zoe. Daelia. He knew the shape of their names by heart.

“In An Toan, you will find the answers your heart seeks.” With those final words Little Mother stepped away and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Arnan to watch the Sun’s slow ascent into the morning sky.

_____

Arnan looked over his shoulder back at the little cottage one last time and caught a glimpse of a familiar falcon sitting on the roof beam. Shea had nearly impeccable timing. Little Mother would know what to do.

_____

They had been riding for nearly ten hours and the shadows of the trees were just starting to lengthen. Arnan could see that Meridel was beginning to fade. He silently berated himself for not stopping to take a noon meal. Pepper was still nearly comatose, and he had forgotten that the Princess would be less resilient then he was. Arnan’s thoughts turned back to Pepper as the boy’s head began to bounce against his back. Pepper’s eyes were open, but he responded to nothing and had not said a word all day. Little Mother had warned him that he might have to coax the little boy to speak again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Meridel urge her jet-black mare forward until she was riding abreast with him.

“Why An Toan?” Her question was subdued and tentative, and Arnan hated the sound of it. She was afraid of him.

“The boy has family there.” He knew his gruff answer did not help, but he had little else to say. Arnan wasn’t even certain if Pepper really had family left there, he only knew what small bits Little Mother had told him about Pepper’s parents moving from An Toan to serve the people of Clio. “And the people of those shores will not let your Prime Minister search within their borders. They look on their land as a safe haven for any who seek help from Deus.”

“And we seek help from him?” Arnan ignored the question and lapsed into silence as they rode. Meridel was not satisfied with his answer. He could see her annoyance manifesting itself in her posture. She hid behind formality, a fact that did not surprise him in the least. She suddenly relaxed and Arnan wondered for a moment what was going through the young girl’s mind.

“Is he going to be alright?” Meridel cocked her head towards Pepper as she spoke.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter Four

A rush of adrenaline flowed through Arnan’s veins; his mind quickly assessing the situation with deadly precision. It only took a few testing movements of his neck to realize that the weapon was no small trinket, and whoever held it was pressing the blade point slowly into his neck with calm and determined rage. Arnan wasn’t sure how long he could wait to make a move without risking his own demise. A tree creaked, and a shadow tilted. It was all that he needed. Arnan turned just enough to swipe his attackers feet off the floor and tackle them to the ground. There was swirl of maroon and he found himself staring into cold blue eyes. Numb shock filled his mind as he realized his opponent was the woman from the streets of Cree. It was impossible, and yet there she was pinned helplessly to the rotting floor. He tried to qualm the rising terror in his mind, endless questions rippled through his brain. Who was she? Arnan flinched as the woman spit into his eye. It was already too late when he realized his mistake. Only a moment passed before the tables were turned once more and Arnan found his throat threatened by her sword point. He did not like what he saw in her eyes, there was a rage so cold and deadly that he was uncertain he’d ever come across any like it. She was young, younger then he had first guessed, and bitterly determined to kill him.

“Death is too good for you, jackal.” The words were spoken with a deadly precision, and Arnan absently noted that her voice would have had a soft, lilting quality to it had it not been so infused with venom. He knew better then to speak, she was already pressing the blade harshly against his throat and he could feel the first trickle of blood run from the sword. Anytime now, Deus, anytime. The thought surprised him. Arnan wasn’t one to place his hope in a distant, hateful, being. He slowly studied his opponent’s eyes in a hope to find some sign of weakness, but all he saw was concentrated hatred. Why? It was a question even more perplexing then how she had tracked him. He stared for a few more moments before deliberately blinking his eyes. As his eyelids closed a terrible image rose before his mind’s eye and a sickening horror filled him. He knew her.

“Meridel?” His question was tentative. A flicker of hate ran through her eyes at his recognition. Methodically she began to bind his hands and feet with a single hand, while keeping the sword to his throat.

He had only seen her once, once she had unsuspectingly locked eyes with him like she would have any other common stranger. Arnan could clearly picture the day; it had been cold, cold and grey.

The crowd was clothed in black and deep blues. Arnan had never before seen a funeral procession and was almost afraid to move through the heavy cloud of sorrow that surrounded him. There was a soft hum coming from the crowd as they began to sing the funeral dirge for their Queen. It almost seemed like a dream, the carriages carrying the royal family moved in slow procession. Arnan lowered his head as the Queen’s byre went by, he couldn’t bear to look. There were many mourners following the procession but his eyes were riveted on only one. She was young girl, dressed in flowing white. The girl seemed to be an angel descended into a cloud of thick darkness. That was when their eyes met, her eyes were filled with broken sorrow. Sorrow Arnan knew he had caused. She had only looked at him for a second, as if looking for some form of comfort and moving on when it was not found. The crowd began whispering and muttering at the sight of this little ray of light in their midst. He listened to the talk, hoping for some clue as to what would happen to the girl. All he ever heard was her name, Meridel. Arnan locked eyes with the Prime Minister. The man had gotten away with his act and smoothly directed the people’s rage toward Arnan. With a final glance toward Meridel, he ran.

“You killed her.” The words were a cold accusation. A true accusation. A wave of despair swept over his body. Perhaps this was justice; perhaps this was Deus finally moving his hand.

He deserved to die. He had been responsible. His life wasn’t worth anything anymore. No one wanted him. He had failed, failed in just about everything. He alone was responsible for what Duard had done to his family. He was responsible for Meridel’s pain; he was responsible for how Gical was using her. He was responsible for destroying Pepper’s life. He was the one who had murdered innocent souls, and stolen away so much happiness. Arnan let the weight of the past years overwhelm him. It wasn’t worth fighting anymore; it wasn’t worth living only for lies. He wouldn’t fight. He refused to. Meridel would slaughter him, and justly so. Pepper would be safe with Little Mother, and Arnan no longer had any family to live for. Even if he did they wouldn’t want him back. Slowly he met the girl’s eyes and choked out the words.

“I was responsible.”

Arnan closed his eyes and let his emotions wander as he waited for the blow. The only thing he did not want to think about was Wren. It seemed like an eternity and the cold blade still remained at his throat, steady and unmoving. He felt it pull away from his throat and heard it clatter against the floor. Arnan opened his eyes just in time to see the girl flee from the room. He didn’t know why but somehow he understood. He was the first person who had been honest with Meridel since her parent’s death. It had caught her off guard; it had caught him off guard. Arnan could not ignore the growing conviction in his mind; she had to know. He moved as quickly as he could, grabbed a stack of papers and sprinted out the door to catch her. The girl was halfway across the clearing when he made it out the door.

“Meridel, wait!” She stopped but did not turn. He could tell by her stance that there were tears streaming down her face. Arnan slowed his pace as he reached the place where she was standing. “You deserve to know what is really happening.” Meridel took the papers without meeting his eyes and began to walk away. Arnan turned around and began to head back to the house to gather his things.

“Thank you.” The words were so faint that he was almost uncertain that he had ever heard them.

“I am going to An Toan. If you travel with me I will protect you. You will be safe from Gical there.” Arnan shook his head and turned away. The words had been impulsive, yet somehow he knew he needed to say them.

_______________________

Arnan paced back and forth across the charred room, letting a torrent of thoughts flow through his mind. Meridel had grown, she was no longer a girl but a woman. Gical had trained her well in the evil trade they both were now slaves of. She had been a small and frail child when he first saw her, only having seen twelve summers. He knew she could now be no more then fourteen or fifteen years of age, yet she had been taught to carry herself as a grown woman. He had seen the transformation in his own siblings as they came of age, even still he could not seem to wrap his mind around this strange young woman to whom he owed so much. He grasped his head and tried to calm down the flow of thoughts. They were incessant, and they were devastating. He paused for a moment to pick up a piece of paper that had fallen to the floor in Meridel's flight. He recognized it immeaditely, and knew the words by heart. They had been haunting him ever since the proclamation had been made nearly three years before.

A Royal Proclamation of the Kingdom of Shanglal.

Grave circumstances have threatened our lands. A fortnight ago our Queen, most beloved of Shanglal, was kidnapped and violently murdered by the assassin, sometime known as Arnan Romany. In this very week the people again with stood a terrifying blow with the murder of their faithful king, again at the hand of Arnan Romany. The Royal Family, and the Officials of the court offer twenty pounds of gold to any man or woman who apprehends this man and returns him to Shanglal for execution. Deus’ grace to your lands, and may he speed whosoever may bring an end to the tyranny of this man.

Prime Minister Gical

Disgust and guilt flowed through Arnan’s veins. He smirked at the crude drawing contained in the picture. The evil looking likeness portrayed barely even resembled him. Arnan spit and threw the paper to the ground, the pain of was still raw… a fact which greatly surprised him.

Arnan wasn’t even sure why he was waiting for her. It was an inconceivable notion. No girl with her senses would choose to place herself under the protection of the very man who was responsible for her mother’s death. Princess. He knew what she was, but he didn’t want to think about the implications. Most of all Arnan did not want to think about what Gical had done to her. It was a choice between two evils. A man responsible for her parents deaths, or a man who sought to kill her as soon as her could. Arnan let out a curse. Why was he waiting? It was likely she would simply come back to finish the job she began. Because he knew he was responsible. Responsible. It was a strange word to comprehend. Arnan had spent his life avoiding being responsible for anyone but himself since the day Illara was born. His footsteps echoed with a furried thud back and forth across the unsteady beams of the home. Something inside him had snapped when he saw her flee. He would protect her, somehow. He had too.

“You do realize that if you let me travel under your protection, your life will be forfeit?” Meridel’s voice came from the door.

Arnan brought his deep green eyes to meet her blue ones as he answered, “Then my life is forfeit.”

Chapter Three

“Arnan Taddeo Romany! When I catch you I’ll skin your hide off!” Daelia’s voice rang through the forest. Arnan cringed at the pure rage that he heard in her tone. After all it had only been one loaf of bread, and she was always interested in learning new recipes. He wasn’t sure if “grasshopper bread” was in any of their mother’s cookbooks, but Aiden had been teaching him how to survive in the woods and he felt it was his little brotherly duty to inform Daelia that her bread needed a little more “meat.” If nothing else the sheer pleasure of watching his elder sister’s face as she returned to find her latest loaf, cooked with little beady heads and spindly legs sticking out of it in every which way, was worth whatever punishment she could dish out. Arnan stifled as a giggle as she stood beneath the tree he was perched in. He could almost hear the threats she was murmuring under her breath. It was likely going to be several weeks before she allowed him to eat any bread. Daelia stopped her foot and headed back towards the house with angry tears threatening to stream down her cheeks. As far as Arnan was concerned Daelia was far too fussy for her tender age of ten and needed a little bit of fun to lighten her day.

Little specs starting falling on Arnan’s head and as he looked up to see what was disturbing the tree he found himself staring into Wren’s large hazel eyes. She was precariously squatting on the branch above his head and slowly crushing early autumn leaves in her fist above his head. Arnan wasn’t terribly surprised to find his little sister above him, but how she managed to climb the tree without him seeing he would never know. The seven year old girl regarded him seriously, but not without a hint of humor sparkling green in her eyes.

“What did you do this time?”

Arnan smiled impishly as an image of the insect-loaded loaf arose in his mind. “I was just trying to experiment in the kitchen a little.”

“You know Daelia doesn’t like bugs.”

Arnan started backwards at his little sister’s statement, at times he seriously wondered if she could read his mind.

“You might as well get the punishment over with.”

“She’s madder then Aiden on a bad day right now!”

Wren smirked at him, “And if you let her stay that way she’ll try to convince Aiden to spank you.”

“Aiden will think it was funny!” Or so Arnan hoped, he didn’t really want to face his eldest brother if Aiden had a mind to punish him. He watched as Wren’s eyes quickly shifted to a rich brown.

“Aiden might, but Duard won’t.” The little girl turned her face away and nimbly descended down the tree leaving Arnan to agonize over the whether to try and seek grace from Daelia or wait for a higher authority to deal him punishment. Somewhere behind him Arnan heard someone calling him he wasn’t sure who but he distinctly heard a voice calling “uncle”

Arnan bolted awake and met Pepper’s concerned gaze. Memories of the dream still lingered in Arnan’s tired mind and he had a hard time determining what was only a memory and what was real. He could almost feel the belt lashes on his rear that the Duard had delt him after word of what took place reached the guardian’s ears. Arnan shook his head to try and clear the cobwebs and realized with certain horror that they were in the middle of the forest with no trail in site. The mare he was seated on was happily making a feast off of the wild grasses growing on the forest floor. Arnan groaned, he wasn’t sure how long he had slept but it would likely take hours to find the path again. He offered his arm down to help Pepper back up onto the horse, but was met with a skeptical eye.

“You’re not going to fall asleep again, are you?”

“No Pepper, and the sooner you get up the sooner we find the path.”

__________________________________

They had been traveling east for nearly five hours and there was still no sign of the path. Arnan at least knew he was traveling in the right direction as the landscape slowly changed. The mare’s hooves we’re sinking more deeply into the softening mud and no one could deny the suffocating stench that was starting to form. They had already passed the borders and entered the swamps of Negesh.

“Uncle?”

Arnan started at the sound of Pepper’s voice, he had thought the little boy was asleep.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

Arnan sighed and felt as if someone had thrown a dagger into his heart.

“Somewhere I would rather not take you.” A part of him said he shouldn’t bring Pepper back into the swamps, but at this point he had no choice. Both of the weary travelers lapsed into silence and watched as the old trees began to be over taken by sickly green vines that seemed to want to keep out the sun. Arnan heard Pepper gasp and felt the little boy’s grip on his cloak tighten. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the familiar marker. An old tree, that was roughly the size of a small cottage in diameter, stood chared and broken. Pictures and words were carved into the sides of the massive cypress. This was the place he had found Pepper nearly two years ago. Arnan didn’t want to read the words, yet somehow he had to.

“Here lieth the grave of two persons in the service of the evil one who saw fit to bring a plague down on the God-fearing and beloved of Deus. In holy war they met their end in the fire of hell.”

Arnan bit back tears and rage as the horror filled memories assailed his senses. There was fire everywhere, he could almost see it licking it’s way across the chared forest floor. The shouts of the townsfolk still echoed in terrible clarity. All he could see was the little five year old redhead, held back by stone-faced townsmen as the boy’s home went up in flame. Tears spilled over Arnan cheeks as he heard the little boy’s screams, he could not stop the wrenching feeling in his gut as the scene played once more in his mind. Arnan suddenly realized that Pepper had jumped off the mare and was sprinting towards the remains of the burnt home. The screams were not only in his imagination, once again the boy’s cries filled the clearing.

“Momma, Papa, Momma!”

“Pepper come back!” Arnan couldn't disguise the panic in his out voice.

He jumped off the horse and ran as fast as he could to grab the little boy. He was halfway across the burnt clearing before he could wrestle Pepper to the ground. The boy was hysterically fighting and trying to get into the house.

“I have to save them! I have to save them! Momma!”

Arnan grabbed Pepper’s face and forced him to look into his eyes. Pepper’s eyes were wild with panic and he was still trying to push Arnan away.

“It’s too late, Pepper.” Arnan whispered in the hope that it would soften the blow. At the sound of the words Pepper crumpled and began to sob. Arnan picked the little boy up and let Pepper bury his face into the dark green traveling cloak. It was hard to bear the shaking sobs that wracked the seven year old’s body. Arnan took long strides across the clearing in the direction of the only safe haven he knew of. If Little Mother was still alive, she would know what to do.

__________________________________

The little old blind woman was kneeling in her garden taking care of herbs when Arnan strode through her gate. Pepper, it seemed, was nearly unconscious, and now was only weeping. Little Mother turned and regarded Arnan with her unseeing eyes.

“I was hoping Deus would bring me my little Pepper back.” The woman flashed a toothless grin at him and Arnan found himself speechless. “The ground itself still groans with the cries of this little boy, Arnan Romany, he has seen such horror that no matter how many rains fall the earth will not be cleansed of his sorrow. Go, I will do what I can.”

Arnan watched silently as Little Mother came and took the numb boy from his arms and carried him into her cottage. He turned and slowly made his way back to the terrible clearing. Bitter words silently assailed his mind as he went. He was an idiot for bringing the boy back. Mauria was right, he would likely be responsible for Pepper’s death. Whether it be from the life he had been teaching the boy to live, or grief. Arnan flicked away angry tears as the house came into sight. He remembered clearly meeting Little Mother at the very spot he stood. She had been watching from the shadows with tears streaming down her dark weathered face. He remembered so very well the words she had whispered over and over again.

“All they wanted was to tell you about Christus”

Her words where not heard by the townspeople that night. Arnan wasn’t even sure it would have mattered if they had. He didn’t care what his siblings believed, or even Little Mother. If Deus or Christus really existed they would have never let anything so terrifying happen to Pepper or his parents. Martyrs; the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. No, Deus didn’t exist, and if he did he didn’t care. Arnan pushed open the burnt door and watched as little rats scurried away from him and into the dark corners of the one room home. It had once been Pepper’s home, but it seemed that “home” had rejected both of them. Arnan slowly knelt and began lifting up broken boards hoping to retrieve what he had buried in the house that haunted both of their pasts. He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the sack right where he had left it, completely undisturbed. Just as he began to reach for the bag Arnan froze at the unmistakable feeling of a cold knife point pressing against the back of his skull.

Chapter Two:

Arnan and Pepper sat in one of the many booths lining the back wall of Simon’s Pub. The place was overflowing with more characters then Arnan could keep track of; travelers and city folk all drowning their woes in ale and stew. He smiled at one particular sailor who seemed to have drunk one too many mugs of Mauria’s home brew.

“That ‘un will have an aching head tomorrow,” Pepper dryly observed of the weeping shipmate.

“And how would you know, Pepper?” The redhead imp smiled wryly and handed Arnan’s mug of untouched ale to him. Arnan shook his head as he realized that the cup he held was empty. He almost admired Pepper’s impertinence in drinking it out from underneath his nose. The boy was already sitting on his hands as punishment for attempting to pick a patron’s pocket, only a few minutes after entering the room. Arnan sighed inwardly as he realized he was teaching Pepper he would only be punished if he got caught, not for the deed itself. It was something his parents and siblings would have hated, but something that Arnan had no control over. They had to survive, and Pepper had quickly learned that morals were for people whose pockets were bulging with gold. Arnan swatted the little boy across the back of his head.

“Go on, git. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself in here then go outside and wait for me. I have business to talk with Simon. And no stealing!” The boy ran along happily and barely responded as Arnan yelled after him. Arnan heard a deep-throated chuckle behind him and turned to find Simon placing a fresh mug of ale in front of him.

“You know, boy, you might as well tell a bird not to fly,” Simon eyes were brightly shining with humor.

Arnan smiled as he realized the absurdity of it all, “ I guess there is still a part of me that wants Pepper to have a proper upbringing like I did.”

Simon stared at him for a moment and then let out a sudden roar of laughter, “Lot of good it did you, Romany!”

Arnan smirked and took a swig of the ale before he realized what he was doing. The terrible taste suddenly overwhelmed his senses and he remembered why it was that he never drank. Suddenly he realized that Simon was watching him. Doing his best to swallow, Arnan pasted a smile back onto his face and tried to squeak out a couple words.

“Good ale…” Simon slapped him across the back and Arnan had all he could do to keep his stomach where it belonged.

“Mauria’s newest brew, you like?” Arnan gulped down the ale that was rising up the back of his throat and slowly nodded. Simon smiled and sat down across the table from him.

“I was followed today.”

“You are followed many day, my friend. Most men who have as sizable a bounty over their heads are stalked by hunters.”

“Aye. But I was followed, and I was found.” Arnan watched calmly as fear started rising in Simon’s eyes. “They knew where I lived, it seems I’ve been too careless”

“That’s impossible, you’re the most invisible man I’ve ever met.”

“And yet they found me. This place is no longer safe.”

“Where will you go?” Simon’s eyes were defeated. They both knew the danger of being found. This meant that whoever was looking for him was no small time bounty hunter looking for hard cash. Whoever was looking him meant serious business. Usually this meant the criminals head, not necessarily connected to his body.

“To the Swamps of Negesh to take care of business…”

A woman’s voice broke into their conversation with barely concealed panic, “You’re not taking the boy back there!”

Arnan looked up to find Mauria staring down at him with tight-lipped determination. He knew his face matched hers but inwardly he smiled. Mauria had an indefinable protective quality about her that very much reminded him of his elder sister Daelia. He had often seen the same determination cross Daelia’s face over his latest dangerous exploit when they were children. Arnan pulled himself back to the situation and sighed.

“Pepper will go with me to Negesh and then we will make refuge in An Toan.” Arnan met Simon’s shocked stare at the mention of the deeply religious island, out of the corner of his eye he also saw Mauria’s shoulders drop in defeat. The silence between them was chilling, yet he knew that neither of the couple would try and talk him out of it. This was a matter of survival. Finally, Mauria slammed the mug she had carried over down on the table and spat out a few words.

“You’ll be the death of that little boy, Arnan Romany.” She twirled on her heel with a swish of her skirts and headed back towards the kitchen. Arnan turned his attention back to Simon ‘s piercing gaze only to find his dear friend also standing.

“I guess that’s it then,” said Simon quietly. Arnan caught the larger man’s arm as he began to turn away and placed a linen envelope into his hand.

“You and Mauria have been the only family I have known over the past three years and I can’t take everything I own were we are going.” Arnan paused as he searched for the right words, “ I know the swamps of Negesh are an unpleasant place for even the average man to wander into, but should you ever be in need that envelope will tell you where to find help.”

Simon nodded his thanks and grabbed Arnan in a bear hug before turning to take care of the needy customers lining the booths of the pub. Arnan looked around the familiar pub once more before shouldering his pack, in an attempt to burn the image into his mind. It was heartbreaking to leave the only home he had known since leaving his siblings, but the last thing he would have ever done is let himself bring danger to the beautiful couple he loved so well. Pepper would be outside, likely attempting to pickpocket a poor soul, and it was time to collect him. Arnan looked back over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold of the back door, just in time to see Simon toss an overly inebriated patron out of the pub. He squared his shoulders and, with a prayer that Mauria would forgive him, he walked away knowing he would never again return.

Crossing Paths
Chapter One

A dark chill moved in with the cloud of smoke that surrounded Arnan as he sat in the back corner of the room. He hated the stench that inhabited the Cree Port Inn, but this was where he had been told to wait. Arnan cringed backwards as another stream of smoke hit him. In a way it reminded him of a vipers tongue reaching out to consume whoever sought to cross it’s path. Something was wrong. He had been waiting in the common room of the Inn for several hours. None of his employers had ever been this late before. Arnan could not ignore the cold tingle that ran up the back of his spine, it was an all too familiar sign that someone was watching him. Looking around, with a studied calm that would not betray the panic welling up inside of him, Arnan identified each of the patrons of the disreputable inn. All the men he saw were regulars; fishermen, sailors, the odd workman. All these men seeking to drown their woes in strong drink and pipes. He knew each by their habits and customs, he had after all been studying them for a year. Each was engrossed in their own personal vice, none of them paid any attention to the unremarkable man who always sat in the back corner of their pub. His green cloak and hidden face was an all too familiar sight to them. Arnan knew this, and yet he could not shake the feeling of impending doom. Someone was new, and someone was fixated on him and his actions. The fact that Arnan could not see the intruder only made him more uncomfortable. An assassin? A spy? He didn’t know, and he had everything he could do to remain in his seat. It had been too long. His new employer must have met his fate by the hand of some angry debtor. Regardless of the circumstance it was time that he left. Turning with a lazy manner, Arnan adorned a grin and signaled one of the barmaids to collect the few coins he owed to the establishment. That was when he spotted her. There was a woman wearing a dark maroon cloak with wisps of blonde hair that would have softened her face if it were not for the cold lethalness of her blue eyes. Arnan relaxed a bit when he identified her. She was not an assassin, and as spies went she was an immature one. Another poor wounded girl pulled into the service of some crazed mad man who wanted revenge. Arnan purposely ignored his thoughts, knowing that the questions of who sent her would only lead him down a devastating path of panic. He needed to focus on nonchalantly leaving and loosing her in the crowded streets of Port Cree. He had learned that even an immature spy could easily sense fear, if he made one wrong move Arnan would immediately loose his upper hand. It was thirteen paces to the door, and they were quickly covered with a firm step and the swoosh of his deep evergreen, traveling cloak. In a few moments Arnan heard the telltale sound of a soft treading woman’s footsteps behind him, she was more immature then he had thought. Quick calculations ran through his mind as he created a virtual route through the city to loose this unwanted follower. He wasn’t sure if her lack of tact would be a liability or an asset as he maneuvered his way home. Loose cannons were dangerous things to behold in the politics of the day. Still, he had never been successfully followed through the ever running circus in Port Cree. It was a blaze of color: red, green, blue, bright fuschias, and deep purples. Arnan moved through the crowds of people and animals calmly, yet smoothly. Stopping to toss a coin at a grateful dancing girl, He slipped between the rows of colorful silk clothing for purchase and on to pass through the many stands boasting bright jewels and gold chains. The object was to be calm, and appear a model citizen who was unintentionally getting swept away in the crowd, and the object never failed. Arnan breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the woman was nowhere in sight. A sudden spell of happiness came over his heart and he nonchalantly rolled a coin across his arm and down into the hands of a carnival street boy who offered Arnan an apple in return. Yes, It was a good day to be alive. The momentary danger, after all, only added a feeling of euphoric triumph. It was unlikely that he would ever see the woman again, Arnan was ripe and ready to hold to the thieves’ motto that “Once is only a warning from the gods to pay your dues, actual danger lurks in twos.” He would keep a wary eye out, yet how could an amateur really track him? Taking a bite from his apple, he began to skip and dance with the carnival people as he made his way home. It was a good day.

___________

Arnan started from a fitful slumber at the sound of a door slamming and little feet pattering up the white washed stairs. He groaned, and rolled over, knowing that it was only Pepper who came running home. Most likely carrying some little treasure that would be his world for a few days. Of course it would have no real value, but Arnan had quickly learned that to a seven year old boy even a grain of sand could be worth more then gold if it came with a story. Arnan opened a single eye and watched as the boy worked excitedly at something he had placed on the table. Almost on cue, Pepper picked up what appeared to be a cloth picture and brought it over for inspection, and stood impatiently bouncing from one foot to another as he waited for a response. A smile from Arnan was all that was necessary.

“The woman from the circus, the one who gives me milk sometimes?”

“Mother Avia” Arnan patiently supplied the name of the woman they had met just a few days before in a disturbance Pepper had caused among the stands.

“Yeah, Avia, with the funny accent? She had a friend today. He was a man with an even funnier accent then Mother… uh… Abia, and he came with all sorts of pictures like this. He said this belonged to a prince who fought a lot of wars and ruled for a very long time. He said that it was a prince who looked just like me. And, and, he said that maybe I’ll fight in wars one day. Wouldn’t that be fun? Then we’d get to fight the bad guys for real!”

Pepper stopped with a breathless grin and Arnan could see that there was a glorified battle taking place within the boy’s imagination. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he began to think of all the trouble Pepper would get into as the years went by and his imagination went even more wild then it already was.

“Do you like it?”

There was something in the way that Pepper asked that showed a deep abiding need for approval. Arnan grabbed the boy and tousled his hair.

“Very much, now go get some supper and let a poor old man get some sleep.”

Pepper, now satisfied that his new treasure was well liked and hungry as always, ran to the cupboards and began digging around triumphantly coming up with bread and cheese.

“Oh, Uncle? There’s a woman outside who says she has a letter for you from your sister.” This message delivered he anxiously returned to the task shoving food into his mouth.

Unbidden images of Wren flooded Arnan’s mind, and a soft feeling of comfort over took his senses. It lasted only a moment until he realized the absurdity of it all. Wren always sent her letters by way of the falcons, she would have never entrusted any of her letters to a human being, it would be too risky. The letters could be lost, and however small the chance would be news could still be carried back to Duard through human carriers. No, she would have never given it to a woman. A sneaking suspicion dawned at the back of Arnan’s mind that threatend their very exsistence. It forced him to rise from the soft blankets and slowly walk towards the windows. Sure enough, waiting in the street below their dwelling was a woman with blonde hair wearing a maroon cloak. Arnan muttered an oath under his breath and began gathering a few items hurriedly from around the room.

“Pepper, we have to go. Now.”

The little boy stared up at him with unmasked concern and the edges of panic, just enough to show Arnan he had been too hasty. The boy could not panic; above all else, if Pepper suddenly panicked their escape through the rear door would fail. Arnan tried to smile down at the boy in the most reassuring way he could conjure.

“Don’t look so worried Pepper,” Arnan lifted the boys chin and looked deeply into the questioning eyes, “We’re just going to go visit Simon and Mauria, that’s all.”

The Prologue--

It was evening. The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees of Braedoch Forest, throwing its leafy depths into shadow. It was early spring and the forest was still newborn; winter's chill could yet be felt in the air at night.

On the eastern edge of the forest, the eight children of Isaak Romany were gathering together. Their home was a small house of stone, composed of three circular chambers. In the central chamber a fire burned slowly, varying light dancing on the face of a tall man in a dark cloak. He waited for the eight to gather. His face seemed set in granite, as always; no hint of emotion, no whisper of affection for the children he had raised. He, Maeron Duard, was their guardian, nothing more. They did not care for him either. Though they had grown up in the house, they often chose to stay apart from it: they wandered the forest, worked in the woodshop, climbed the small mountains that overlooked their home in the north. They were not like others. Their life had been one of isolation. They knew weaponry and woodcraft, but little of humanity. They cared for each other and yet spent much of their time in solitude.

Their guardian was afraid of them. Once the clan of Romany had been strong and numerous. Duard's ancestors, druids and powerful, vengeful men, had cursed the clan nearly a century ago. In the succeeding generations, hardship, famine, and war had plagued them--helped along by the druids. At last only Isaak Romany and his wife were left. They took their children to Braedoch and tried to live with them there. But Isaak was a powerful man of great personal force, and the few remaining druids feared that he would father a new beginning for the clan. They sent Duard to kill him. And he did. He killed Isaak and his wife, but could see nothing to fear in the children... behind his face of stone there was perhaps a heart, for he kept them alive, and raised them. But he feared them now. Alone, he thought, they could be no threat. But as long as they stayed together, the clan Romany might again arise.

-----

Arnan Romany stood in the shadows with his back against the wall. He was doing his best to hide from the questioning gaze of each sibling as they entered the room. Illara. Sam. Daelia. Taerith. Aiden. Wren. Arnan stepped further back into the shadows as she entered and took her place. He knew that he could not let her see his face. She knew how to read him and could always tell his secrets. He knew. He knew why Duard had called them there. He barely even noticed Aquilla's entrance as he mused through his thoughts. Arnan wasn't sure who would be angrier with him: Aiden, for not warning the siblings; or Duard, for breaking into the master’s papers. Arnan didn't regret it, even though he did not understand what he had seen. Something was driving Duard into utter fear, and Arnan couldn’t comprehend what it was. He may not have comprehended but he knew what the man was doing and he was prepared, but he didn't know how to tell the others. They would be heart broken, and he had fallen short again, by not even telling Aiden. Aiden would have known what to do; Aiden always seemed to know what to do. Out of the corner of his eye Arnan noticed Wren watching him. He was sure she was just as perplexed about him as Duard's summons. Arnan flinched as he felt a cold gaze fall on him. The master was watching him, and they were watching Duard. He shifted trying to relieve the tension of the room, but with no avail. Duard was watching him, Duard knew that someone had been in his chambers and as always Arnan was the likely suspect. Zoe finally entered and Arnan breathed a sigh of relief as the attention was shifted off of him. Still, he knew that Wren continued to watch him.

It was time. The siblings would finally know the meaning of the summons, and Wren would perhaps forget the way he hid.

"You wonder why I have sent for you," Duard said. "I will not keep you waiting. The time has come for you to go. Braedoch is no longer home to you, nor are you any longer a family. You will each depart alone. You will have nothing more to do with each other from this day forward. You are not to communicate, and absolutely not to see each other. If you do, terrible consequences will follow--I am warning you now."

Arnan watched as the words smashed against his family with a greater force then anything that had ever shaken their circle of protection. That protection was going to disappear in a matter of days, everything they held dear was going to be gone. He wasn't sure how they were going to survive, but they had too... didn't they?

"Make whatever preparations are necessary. You leave in three days." Duard's voice broke into the deathly silence. Arnan lowered his head and waited for one of the more volatile siblings to protest in shock at Duard for the harshness of this punishment. To Arnan's surprise the first voice he heard was Taerith's.

"You are banishing us?"

"Do you question me?"

Duard was firm and Arnan knew it was finished. Taerith would give way to the stronger will. The elder boy's "No" spoke a quiet, yet incomplete, submission. They had their orders and they must comply.

Arnan was the first to leave the room. He was already packed, and he knew he could not face his siblings. Guilt far too easily displayed itself on his face. Throwing his pack over his shoulder Arnan walked out the door of the home. Somehow he knew Wren was standing in the door watching him go but he didn't dare look back. This was a chance to see the world, a chance to live a good life not restricted by his over-protective older brothers. He had to make his own legacy now. He knew Wren was waiting for him in that doorway, he knew if he turned back now there would be no leaving. Arnan shifted the weight of his pack in an attempt to ignore the tears streaming down his face and lighten the load on his heart. A part of him had died as he stepped out the door. He kept walking.

True to his name, Arnan Romany is a quick fellow with a knack for being unremarkable. He is the third son of the Romany family, and the fourth born. He stands at about 5'10 and has dark auburn hair. His stunning green eyes are often hid beneath affected lazy lids that achieve Arnan the assumption of being "slow" or "drunk." Arnan has been known as the troublemaker in the family since the day he was born. Being the third born son, and not being interested in anything in particular gave him plenty of time to plot and scheme with very little responsibility. With a knack for creating little devices he was a mastermind at planning practical jokes.

Arnan was twenty-two at the time of the dismissal and quickly decided to make the best of the situation by reaching for success. In his naiveness and curiousty he instead found himself becoming the black sheep of the family and lost all contact with any of his angry siblings, with the exception of his beloved sister Wren.

A couple years later, Arnan finds himself at the age of twenty four with more of a dark past then he would care to admit. He is now in the service of several influential men and being pulled further and further into a black hole of life.