OK, here's how it goes: I'm going to write the first chapter, and whoever wants to continue, once she (or he) stops snoring and snoozing, will write the next chapter, etc.
Rules:
1. You may write only one chapter at a time. if you want to write another chapter, you have to wait for someone to write the next, and only then continue.
2. You may not make requests for what happens next. Example: do not say "Whoever continues this, it would be cool if she goes to visit the Bloody Hawk".

Here goes...

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Namiir el-Akmai of the Blue-Eyed Snake:

Chapter 1:
The wide-eyed girl mounted upon her dust-grey mare that stood atop a dune gazed at her tribe for the last time. The tents were set as a long line, symbolizing the Blue-Eyed Snake, the tribe. The blue tent at the point of the row belonged to Chief Karis fez-Kai, and the white one next to it belong to the Shaman, the Chief's brother, Kesaa fez-Kai.

The girl's eyes fell upon the smaller tent of the Shaman's apprentice, Sheena. Sheena, the perfect, prim girl who could weave without one mistake, who could fly from tent to tent when she was barely four. Sheena, who already all the young tribesmen took interest in. Sheena, her sister.

Namiir spat at the ground. Her sister was a snake. She slithered silently, calmly crossing the desert, and when you least expected it-

Namiir shook her head. No need to think of that now. She was going to a new place, new people. A new chief. A new future. She was not wanted in her tribe. Sheena took care of that...but now she was headed to Tortall, where the Voice of the Tribes was Chief.

It was said he had blue eyes like the Snake...

Chapter 2

Namiir came to rest at the oasis of the Bloody Hawk. She unsaddled Tarub (the mare) and they drank quietly. The breeze ruffled through Namiir’s raven hair, bringing a foreign scent. She reached for her dagger as she turned. There were other humans near, but their scent did not match any of the Bahzir she’d ever met. Tarub whickered and sidled into a nearby bush, out of sight. <Good girl> Namiir thought.

She crept through the brush, senses on full alert. She had trained for months with a wandering Shang Horse; she knew how to take care of herself. The lessons had been in secret, until Sheena ratted Namiir out to the elders. Their father has thrown a fit and cast Namiir out of the tribe until she could prove she had “learned her place.” Namiir grimaced at the memory.

It didn’t take long to find the source of the alien smell. The stallion was well groomed, a handsome black fellow about seventeen hands tall. There was a small camp set around him, a fire pit and travelers pack. The horse munched contentedly on some grass, but his rider was nowhere in sight. The hair on the back of Namiir’s neck prickled.

That was all the warning she had. Someone pulled her into a headlock; she responded with an elbow to the stomach. She then grabbed the offending arm and threw the whole body over her shoulder. The stranger gave and appreciative ‘whooph’ as it dropped a rolled. He came up with a sword in hand and Namiir froze. She knew how to fight with her hands, and a dagger, but those skills were useless against the reach of sword. She dropped the knife in surrender.

“Who are you?” He asked. “What tribe?” His speech was thickly accented; she had to strain to understand him.

“I am Namiir, formerly of the Blue-eyed Snake, led by Chief Karis fez-Kai, assisted by Shaman Kesaa fez-Kai.” She gave a little bow.

“Formerly?” He asked. She looked up at his hazel eyes; there was no bloodlust there, only curiosity. He was a Northerner, like the Voice. He had light skin, yellow hair. He seemed very tall, though he couldn’t have been much older than she, he barely had stubble on his chin. Tarub came out of hiding, approaching the man and lipping his vest. Namiir cringed; the mare was going to get them both killed. To Namiir’s surprise, the man produced an apple and offered it to Tarub. The apple was gone in four delicate bites.

“Why did you grab me from behind?” She asked.

“You were sneaking up on my camp, with a wicked looking blade in your hand. I’m still not convinced you’re harmless, but Tarub is willing to vouch for you.” He must have been a wild-mage, one that carried a sword.

“You smelled funny.” Namiir explained. “I thought you were dangerous.”

The man gave his underarm a cautionary sniff. “I’d take a bath, but you seem to have a shortage of water around these parts.”

Namiir had to stop herself from smiling. “Who are you, then?”

“Emery, younger son of Lord Gervase of Scanra.”

Namiir’s blood ran cold. A Scanran. Someone who imprisoned children’s souls and waged war against the Voice. The war was over now, but that didn’t change what the country had done. She had to get away from him, quickly.

Chapter 3:

Sheena concentrated on the fire before her, wrinkling her brow. What was that sister of hers up to? The man next to her was obviously a Scanran. What was he doing in the desert? Studying the man, she understood that he was powerful. Surely, then, he should have nothing to do with her elder sister?

She shook her head, muttering "So mote it be" to end the scrying spell. Namiir was probably being silly again, making friends with foes. "Really, Namiir," she said to the fire before her. "Must you always be so foolish?" It was things like this that got Namiir in trouble. She trusted everyone, anyone. Sheena smiled. Just like she trusted her, and told her about her studies with the Shang Horse. How could she, Sheena, a respectable apprentice-shaman and tribeswoman, not tell the elders of that ridiculous dream of Namiir's?

Sheena felt quite satisfied when Father had stuck Namiir and cast her out. But then, he had turned to her as well, and slapped her. Sheena was so shocked she had started to sob-she hadn't cried since she was six!

"But what have I done?" she demanded of her father. "I did only what was right; Namiir was the one who shamed our family!"

"Yes, and you shamed Namiir," her father had said quietly.

Sheena could not face this, and she stormed back to her own tent, the Aprentice Shaman Tent, where she could know that she was in control, she was respected, she was honorable.

And you shamed Namiir.

That wasn't true! She had done the respectable thing-she had told the truth!

You betrayed your sister.

Frustrated, she threw a pillow at the tent walls with a roar.

Hearing her, haman Kesaa fez-Kai, her tutor, rushed in. "What is this?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Nothing, Shaman," Sheena muttered. "I was working on a spell and it just didn't work. I got frustrated-I'm sorry."

Chapter 4

Emery watched as the desert-girl’s eyes changed at the mention of Scanra. By now, he should be prepared for such a reaction, he should be able to accept the fear and hatred that came with the mention of his home, but the warrior in him still wasn’t cowed. He was proud of his father’s land, of his people, not everyone in Scanra was like Maggur. Nevertheless, he could see that Namiir’s mind was made up; to her, he was the enemy.

“I’m sorry I intruded on your land, Hakon and I will soon be on our way.” Emery said. The stallion raised his head at the mention of his name and gave a questioning snort. In a few, efficient minutes, Emery had packed up his belongings and was saddling Hakon. The girl had disappeared, presumably to go find warriors to drive the “evil Scanran” away, he thought. Emery scanned briefly for Tarub, she and her rider were heading north, toward Tortall—not toward the tribes. Emery gave a sigh of relief; he was safe for the moment. He decided to stay at the oasis one more night.

As he sat at the campfire that evening, the memories of the war flitted through his head. The edges of his family’s land were a mere day’s ride from the Third Company’s fort (in Tortall); he remembered the invasions from both parties. The last fight before Scanra’s surrender was still fresh in his mind…

*************************************************************
8 months ago…
It was the first time his people had seen Maggur’s killing devices. The machines were sent as a gift, something to help stave off the invaders. Both devices were wretched to look upon, and they proved uncontrollable in battle. One killing device attacked Garth, a Scanran foot solider and childhood friend of Emery. Enraged, Emery turned Hakon and attacked the creature, firing his crossbow into its neck. A bird, a starlet, saw what he’d done and told the knight to fire again. Emery obeyed, getting as close as he dared, and this time, the arrow went straight through. A white vapor escaped from the metal shell and the device toppled over, throwing out its arms as it fell. Hakon sidestepped, but he didn’t get Emery away fast enough. The device’s arm cut through Emery’s mail, from shoulder to stomach, only Hakon’s quick feet saved Emery from being gored. Emery lost consciousness…

His next memory was when he awoke hours later in the forest. Someone had started a small campfire with a kettle of water boiling over it. His rescuer had undressed him from waist up, there were bandages covering his wound. Emery sat up cautiously. Then Weiryn appeared, antlered and magnificent. “Sorry lad, but after that beating, you’ll need to rest for several more hours.”

“Why are you here?”

Weiryn chuckled. “Most people start by praising me, not asking why I’ve chosen to stick my nose in their business. I’ll have you know your horse called in a very old favor to save you.’

“Where’s Hakon?”

“Resting. He took a few hits himself during that fight. Hold still, I’m not as good at this as my wife.” Weiryn reached down and pulled the bandages gentle off Emery’s chest. The hunt god then placed his hands on the young knight’s chest. In a flash of white light, the cut faded into a long scar. Grunting in satisfaction, Weiryn turned back to the fire to prepare tea.

The god’s back was still turned to Emery as he stated, “You must be quite the knight for your mount to save you like that.” Weiryn offered Emery a cup and sat back on his haunches. “Looking at you, I see another reason….Go to Tortall’s Southern land, youngling, you’re needed there.” His eyes grew distant, “You’ll wander for many moons, have patience, what you’re looking for may find you.” Weiryn snapped out of his thoughts. “I think you’re feeling well enough for me to leave now. Take care of Hakon, you’re now in his debt.”

*******************************************************************

Emery picked up a handfull of sand and watched it slide through his fingers. He sighed in frustration. Gods never said anything straight, but “go to the desert”? And that was it? Emery still didn’t know what he was LOOKING for, eight months later. Traveling through Tortall was no cakewalk; he and Hakon had fought hill bandits, immortals, even the occasional bigoted Tortallian knight.

“Is this the life you expected when you rescued me, old friend?” Emery asked Hakon.

“I like the weather here,” the horse replied. “And we won’t wander forever.”

“At least we’re not outcasts like the girl…Namiir—<formerly> of the blue-eyed snake.” Horse and knight snorted in unison. Speaking of whom, what if she had doubled back? What if she pretended to go North to lull him into a false sense of security? He didn’t know how these desert folk operated. Calling a stream of wild magic out of himself, he cast a net around, searching again for Tarub.

The mare was several miles away, and terrified. Hillmen were near, and Namiir didn’t know it yet. Tarub whinnied in panic, prancing and trying to alert her rider. Namiir was focused on other things; she sat relaxed and pensive. Finally, she noticed Tarub’s restlessness, and found the source. She looked around for cover. Nothing, the closest shelter was the oasis. She kicked Tarub into a mad gallop back to the desert grove, praying they’d get there before the bandits. She also prayed the Scanran wouldn’t choose the Hillmen’s side.

I LOVE your ideas!!! Getting Weiryn into the story was a great idea. Let me continue from here....

Chapter 4:

Emery needed no reigns to ride his horse. He rode bareback. Bow and arrow in his hand, he quietly asked Hakon to ride as fast as he could to Tarub and his girl-the one with the wide eyes, that seemed to see everthing at once.

Once more he used his magic to see what the girl's situation was. He could sense Tarub galloping towards him, and a dozen horses after her. That meant at least twelve hillmen.

Emery smiled worriedly. Twelve vicious hillmen and he the only fighter. The girl would probably try to be heroic, what with all the strange ideas today's Tortallan girls got into their heads. She'd probably trip over her own feet and kill them both.

Or perhaps she'd be a meek tribeswoman, hiding behind him and cringing with fear. Somehow, this idea, though safer, seemed worse to Emery.

The girl was now in sight. He could see in her eyes that she still feared him, but she feared the hillmen even more.

"Fear not, Namiir of the Blue-Eyed Snake!" he called. "I will fight against the hillmen!"

Her smile was hesitant, but she shouted back, "Just don't get in the way!"

Don't get in the way?! he thought, taken aback, Me?! SHE better not get in the way, the ungrateful-He gasped in horror as the girl jumped off Tarub-for a moment he was sure she was dead-but she rolled on the sand, stood firmly on her feet, and picked up a stick.

A stick!? She meant to fight them with a stick!

"Charge, Hakon," he whispered, and the hillmen came. He shot three arrows, trying not to hurt the horses. Two fell. With his magic, he called for the horses of the hillmen to abandon their riders. Glancing back to look for Namiir, he found her gone. Looking around, bewildered, he saw her in the middle of a circle of men, fighting like a stallion. He could not help but stare. He didn't sense the hillman behind him, and suddenly Namiir was there, attacking his attacker with only a stick in hand. The man fell.

"How did-what-?!" he stammered.

"No time to gawp, fool!" she snapped. "You were doing perfectly fine with your arrows, now get to it!" And with a skin-wrippling war cry, she leapt back into battle.

The last three hillman that remained alive ran away. Emery managed to shoot one down, but missed the other.

Namiir turned to him, her braids that were normally wrapped tightly around her head as snakes flowing in the wind. Emery prepared himself for her leaping into his arms and kissing him on the cheek, or perhaps she would just bow with a stiff "I thank you, Sir Emery of Scanra." Sir Emery. He nearly chuckled.

But she did not say that. Not at all. What she said was, "Scanran idiot! NEVER gawp in the middle of a fight! You could've gotten us both killed!"

He blinked, confused. "I-I-" he stammered. Then, he drew his breath and said in what he hoped was a voice full of dignity, "You should be thankful I aided you in battle, Lady of the Blue-Eyed Snake!"

She glared at him for a few moments, mounted Tarub, and galloped towards Tortall, yelling back, "Formerly!"

"What?!"

"Formerly of the Blue-Eyed Snake!"

She was glad he did not see her tears.

********

Weiryn appeared behind him. "Now that didn't go to well," he commented cheerfully.

CHAPTER 5:

BOOM! A heavily decorated clay vase turned to dust on the tent floor as Sheena sent a surge of her Gift toward it.

"Well done, daughter," her father said quietly, entering Sheena's tent.

Sheena beamed at him. "The Shaman says I am much improved."

"Then the Shaman is truly wise," her father responded, trying to return her wide grin, but only managing a weak smile that looked forced.

"Would you like to see me do it again?" Sheena said, eager for more praise from her somber father.

But her father was distracted again, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "Not today, dear one. I must...be going..." And just as quickly as he had come, Sheena's father left the Apprentice Shaman's tent.

It seemed that these days, her father never had time for her. Sheena couldn't imagine where his mind went to sometimes, but it upset her. Now that Namiir was gone, he was supposed to love her .

Sheena turned back to her lesson, demolishing five more vases with her Gift, until finally her emotions were too much for her. Then she cradled her head in her hands and wept.

**********
Well I gave it a go. You guys certainly seem to be doing well without me though. :)

I’m impressed. Not just the storyline (commendable in and of itself), but you managed to create…italics. *sigh* I gave up on those a while ago.
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Chapter 6

Sheena’s scrying spell broke suddenly, without her consent. Some stronger magic suddenly shielded the Scanran. Quickly, she added the “So mote it be” so she would appear in control. She turned to the Shaman, “see, I told you. Namiir is getting into even more trouble now that she’s left the tribe.” Kesaa fez-Kai shook his head sadly. He had watched as Namiir yelled and fled from the Scanran, scared to tears by whatever he had done. Luckily, Tarub was fast and the Scanran was lazy.

“We’ll send out a party to capture the invader, Namiir has suffered enough. She cannot return, but we will do honor by her.”

Sheena smiled in relief. Now, nothing was her fault, she was *saving* her sister’s honor; Sheena could now go back to being perfect, adored. It was time to see what the young warriors were up too; she deserved a treat.

*****************************************************************

Emery turned to face the God of the hunt. “Should I be grateful I’m still alive?” Hakon butted him in the head. “Ow.”

“Respect the Gods, little one.” The horse grumbled.

“I was joking, my friend.” Emery patted Hakon’s neck reassuringly.

“You should be grateful you’re still alive, and able to carry out your quest.”

“Quest for WHAT?!” Emery asked. “Sir.” He added, throwing a cautious look at Hakon.

“Tortall needs your help, and whether you realize it or not, you need Tortall; just like you needed Namiir in that fight a few minutes ago. There are bigger evils in this world than Maggur, and two leggers are about to stumble into such trouble—unless someone can stop them. Someone like you, a knight with a father on the original Council of Ten, and Namiir with…well, that girl has her own gifts and connections…if anyone can stop the threat, it’s you. Good luck.” Weiryn faded away, and it was several minutes before Emery realized the God had managed to avoid his question yet again. But he had a new clue, Namiir could help.

*****************************************************************

Namiir slowed Tarub to a walk once the oasis was out of sight. No need to waste their energy. Time to find the Voice, and forget the people of her past, Scanran, shaman or otherwise. They had nearly made it to Tortall by nightfall, a small…village was visible in the distance. Namiir had never seen one up close before, but the stone and straw structures must have been houses. Namiir pitched the tent and groomed Tarub before drifting off to sleep.

That night, she found herself with a feline invader. An orange and white marbled cat had snuck into her tent and curled itself near Namiir’s head. It was female and as Namiir pondered how to get it out of her tent, the cat opened one eye sleepily, and answered, “Try taking me to Weiryn, it was his stupid idea to come here in the first place.” Namiir gasped and ran out of the tent. Sorcery, a human bewitched—

“I’m no two-legger, don’t insult my intelligence. I am Queenclaw, goddess of housecats.” The cat rose slowly and started grooming herself. “Let me take a moment to emphasize the HOUSE part. Weiryn—the hunt god, you know, decided to come play with the mortals for a while, and I came along to check on some of my kits. Now I’m through, and that dratted antler-brained man is proving hard to find. You have some of his scent, tell me where he is.”

“I’ve never met any god named Weiryn before ma’am, in fact I’ve never met any god before now.”

The cat seemed to sigh and she meowed to Tarub. “Your horse says Emery is one of Weiryn’s chosen, where is Emery?”

Namiir’s cheeks colored. “The last time I saw him, lady, he was at the oasis of the bloody hawk.”

“Then, mortal, you and Tarub are going to take me there.”

Namiir groaned. Not again, she had to go in the OTHER direction; the voice was in the NORTH. It seemed like every time she took one step forward on Tarub, they were galloping three miles back.

Queenclaw sniffed. “If you’re going to be such a baby about it…look into my eyes, two-legger.” Namiir obeyed. “Show me where the oasis is.” Namiir gave the cat the clearest memory she could manage. Suddenly, she felt like someone had picked her up by the scruff of her neck and tossed her headlong into a windstorm. Tarub whickered somewhere on her left, then suddenly, Namiir was deposited in the sand once again.

The oasis. Not again.

CHAPTER 7:

Emery stared with wide eyes at Namiir and the cat that had just landed with her. He had been enjoying a solitary meal by the camp fire when suddenly this girl had landed, yet again, into his life.

Sensing his confusion and dismay, Namiir gave Emery a lopsided grin. "Did you miss me?"

Emery's scowl was answer enough.

Queenclaw yawned and stretched, giving the two-leggers something new to focus on. "I am not as young as I once was, mortals. Even a god like me has to sleep sometime."

Emery's eyes grew even larger as the cat spoke. "You can talk!" he blurted out. Not until Hakon butted him with his head did Emery realize who he was talking to.

"Your Godliness," he hastily added. Emery could hear Namiir's stifled laughter, but when he turned to glare at her, she was looking at him with a somber expression. Only her dancing eyes hinted that she was giggling on the inside.

At least she's loosened up a bit, Emery thought. The last time I saw her, she was afraid of her own shadow.

Just as he finished his thought, Namiir met Emery's eyes fully, and he could see in her eyes that she still didn't trust him.

Emery sighed. Trust must start somewhere, Weiryn's voice came to Emery's mind suddenly. Give her a reason to offer you her full trust, and she will.

Then the god was gone, and Emery suddenly realized that while his mind had not been his alone, Namiir had been talking to Queenclaw about her plans for the future.

"What?" Emery broke in, not realizing or caring that he had interrupted Namiir right in the middle of a sentence.

Namiir shot a glare at Emery. "I was just saying, Emery , that I was on my way to Tortall." Until the gods made me come back to you. The last bit was not spoken, but he knew well enough what she meant.

"I'm going for a walk." Emery jumped up from the desert sand. He was surprised to notice that Namiir's words had hurt him. Hakon watched him with understanding eyes.

I will stay with the two-legger girl and protect her. Hakon said.

Emery nodded tersely, then set out into the desert. Behind him, he could her Namiir chattering on, while Queenclaw listened attentively.

He didn't belong here, in the heat and the sand. What was he, a Scanran nobleman, doing in the Bazhir's territory, on a mission for the gods? He didn't owe the gods anything!

Resentment welled up inside him, hot and thick. This gods blasted trip had gone on long enough. In the morning, he would take Hakon and be gone from this rotting place.

His mind made up, Emery walked swiftly back to the camp.

***
From the bushes surrounding the oasis, Bazhir guards and soldiers also waited for the morning. In the morning, the Scanran man would be made to pay his dues, and the Bazhir girl would be given honor. The Bazhir soldier closest to Emery licked his lips with excitement.

Tonight would a hard night for everyone in the camp. The Bazhir would make sure of that.

Chapter 8

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Emery had seen her face. Namiir blushed at the thought. It had been hours now, and he still hadn’t mentioned it. What was the point of wearing veil now anyway? She was no longer a Bazhir.

“Weiryn was just here, I know it.” Queenclaw grumbled. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to an antlered man about getting home.” She wandered off into the desert.

Emery came back moments later. “I’ve had enough of this.” He started; ready to tell Namiir everything. Then he saw an extra pair of eyes looking back at him. Behind Namiir, there was another human. Hakon registered his rider’s alarm and was up instantly, ready for a fight. The body attached to the eyes leapt out from the brush and grabbed Namiir; together, the two disappeared. Namiir had time to shriek, but then went silent. Emery had his sword in hand, but he needed to be able to see the enemy.

Several ropes flew out of the darkness, catching Hakon’s legs and neck. The stallion went down with a roar, and Emery rushed over to cut the bonds. He had freed Hakon’s legs when the Bazhir rushed out, a swarm of knives and spears. Swinging wildly, Emery defended himself, his back to Hakon. The stallion did his part, kicking violently, knocking several men out cold. The band was driving the duo away from the fire, into the darkness—unfamiliar ground to Hakon and Emery, home to the Bazhir. Hakon tripped, another rope around his ankle, as Emery turned to help and a spear hit him on the temple. He blinked, trying to stay conscious, his sword sliced clean through the offending spear. On his knees, he lashed out repeatedly until someone got in another strike at his head.

Hakon’s angry cries were the last thing Emery heard before he hit the sand.

******************************************************************

Halef Seif of the Bloody Hawk was too old to be going on raids. He was not, however, too old to be a Chief. When the warriors of the Blue-eyed snake had asked for help defending one of their own, Halef had agreed. The Blue-eyed Snake peoples were more…traditional than the Bloody Hawk; Halef hoped the other tribe would leave before they felt too…discomforted by the way he ran his tribe. He shook his head; he was starting to think like a noble, delicately considering compromise.

The prisoner before Halef was young, blond, and utterly unconscious. The warriors had given him quite a beating. The stallion was still giving them some trouble; he had even kicked down the young wild mage trying to calm him. The beast was trouble, it was all the men could do to tie him and leave the animal to tire itself out. There was a long line of warriors ready to kill the boy to acquire his horse. Kara and Kourrem appeared at Halef’s elbow, tutting like old spinsters.

“There are many extra wounds here. The men were overzealous in their capture.” Kourrem said as she laid a cooling hand over the worst spots. “Why is he still alive?”

“There was a dispute over who gets the horse. We must decide who may kill him.”

“No one should touch him. He is marked by a God.” Kara looked down at the boy, eyes clouded with Other sight.

“The Blue-eyed Snake tribe wants his blood. He dishonored the daughter of their chief.” Halef reminded them.

“That same tribe cast the girl out before she met the boy; Namiir told me the story herself.” Kourrem replied. The boy was starting to stir under her touch.

Halef weighed their options. “For this, I think, we must ask Jonathan. Put the Scanran under guard for now, no one touches him until I say so. That includes you two, he’s had enough healing for now. Any more, and he might wake up.”

"He should wake up," the normally soft-spoken Kourrem disagreed with Halef quietly. "He has taken a spear end to the head, if the girl Namiir told me right--he could be bleeding internally."

Halef shook his head as he made his way to his tent where he would commune with the Voice. "I gave my orders," he said, unwilling to lose face with the visiting tribe.

Kourrem followed him urgently, placing an hand on his arm to stop him in mid stride. Halef turned to look at her, eyes weary. He was old, and there was so much activity on this night when he had wanted to ride alone under the stars. But he was Chief first, and he wouldn't have his position compromised by weakness on his part. He looked sternly at the shaman.

"I said, do not touch him," Halef told her.

Kourrem spoke so that the other men of her tribe and those of the Blue Eyed Snake could hear. "What of the horse? A fine beast, but he has been hurt in the fight. Hear how he still whinnies--no animal deserves to wait in suffering. I can feel that the Scanran has animal magic in him. Only he can heal this stallion." Kara nodded her head in approval of this assessment.

The men began looking worriedly at the roped up animal they coveted. Their murmurs rose until Halef, under the pressure of his head shamans, commanded "Fine, wake the Scanran. Guards, watch him as he heals the horse. Then you," he said to Kourrem, "are responsible for getting him to sleep again."

"Yes, Chief," Kourrem bowed her head respectfully. Then she and Kara bent over the bruised, bleeding and unconscious Scanran. He was handsome in that shining pale way some Northerners had, Kourrem thought. As she and Kara worked, she was unaware of a figure hovering over her shoulder. Only when the Scanran sat up with a cough, startling Kourrem backwards, did she realize that Namiir was watching intently.

"How do you feel?" Kourrem asked the Scanran, trying not to be too gentle, as the men who wanted him dead were not far away.

"Fine," Emery muttered, but was immediately distracted by the voice of pain that whickered unpleasantly in his head. "Hokan!" he cried.

"Yes, heal your horse," Namiir spat suddenly. "That's why they healed you. I didn't know that Scanrans cared about their animals."

It was an uncharitable speech, to be sure, and Namiir felt distantly guilty, knowing that her terrible day was not enough to excuse her.

Emery didn't pay attention to her as he ran to heal the pained Hokan, unwilling to get in a petty fight when something more important needed his attention. He murmured soothing words to his horse as he worked.

Meanwhile, Halef was meditating in his tent, the magic of the Bazhir mingling with all the magics of the Voice in Tortall as he asked for guidance in this odd situation.

Wow! I turn my back for a few hours and suddenly some Scanran dude and a bunch of gods have the hots for Namiir! Just kidding :P

My turn!

Chapter 9:

When he next woke, there were two familiar voices speaking.

"He looks like the water brushed the color from his skin."

"Hush, Kara. You'll wake him."

"He's already awake, can't you see?"

Emery opened his eyes, and blinked. His hands were tied behind him, and he appeared to be sitting in a tent, and two women were looking at him with a stare that scared him.

"Erm..." he tried.

"Good evening, Scanran," the taller of the two greeted him. "My name is Kourrem, and this is Kara. We are the Shamans of the Bloody Hawk."

"Good evening," he grunted. "I am Sir Emery of Scanra, and...could you untie me...?"

"No," Namiir entered the tent. Her faced was locked like a chest, and told nothing. Her hands were folded on her chest. "You are lucky, Emery the Scanran. Many wished to kill you and claim your horse. But the Bloody Hawk have agreed to consult with the Voice before they sentence you."

"The Voice?"

"The Voice."

"And may I know who the Voice is?"

"No."

"The Voice is who you think of as King Jonathan IV of Tortall," Kara said with a touch of impatiance in her voice. "He is also our...how shall I put it? Advisor, Directer-"

"He shows us the way," Kourrem helped.

"Ah."

"Even Namiir here will listen to him, stuborn as she is," Kara said cheerfully.

"He is the Voice of the Tribes," Namiir growled, annoyed.

Emery sighed, shaking his head. Why did you bring me into this? he asked Weiryn silently. He got no answer.

Out loud he said, "Why is it you distrust me?"

Namiir let out a snort.

"Hush, Namiir," Kourrem scolded.

"He is a Scanran," Namiir retorted. "Scanrans kill children and makes monsters out of them to kill other children."

"Not all Scanrans are the same," Emery snapped.

Namiir stared at him. It was the first time he had ever raised his voice. Surprisingly, it hurt.

"Well," she said sweetly, "we shall have to wait and see."

She left the tent.
*********
ETA: Great, I just saw the last post after I posted this. I'll try to edit it to fit a bit.

To use italics, you have to put an "i" between "[]" and to end it "".
Like this.;)

Halef entered the tent and stared down at Emery. Jonathan of Conte had shared much information, most of it bad. “You are the son of Gervase?” He asked the captive.

“Yes.”

“The Voice says your father turned on Maggur at the first opportunity. To me, this says your family traitorous, even to their own kind.”

“Maggur was never “my kind,” as you say.” Emery ground out. “Maggur held my youngest brother and sisters hostage to guarantee my father’s loyalty.” He paused, gathering his will to keep going. “When they sent us the death machines to defend the border, we realized what we were allied to. We turned on our countrymen after that.”

“Then what are you doing on Bazhir land, so far from home?” The chief challenged.

“If I knew the answer to that, odds are I wouldn’t be here.” One of the guards slapped Emery smartly across the cheek, sending the weakened knight reeling.

“Enough!” Kara shouted, reprimanding the guard. “The Voice obviously knows the boy, and vouched for him. The only charge left is whether he dishonored Namiir.”

Namiir looked up, startled. “When did he dishonor me?” Emery too, looked shocked; his eyes stared angrily at the girl who was causing him so much trouble.

Halef explained, “The apprentice of the Blue-eyed Snake said--”

“My sister?! I suppose getting me thrown out of the tribe wasn’t enough for her; little miss perfect is spying on me now, I’m surprised she has the time with all her—

“I think we just established Namiir is fine.” Koureem pointed out wryly. “The Blue-eyed Snakes aren’t going to be happy when they hear her testimony.”

Halef rubbed temples. “They’ll probably want the boy anyway. He and his horse wounded a significant number of their warriors.”

“And whose fault is that?” Emery grunted, shaking his head as he attempted to clear his thoughts. The guard raised his hand again, and Halef caught it.

“WE are at fault here, not him.” The old chief said quietly. “Stay here, watch the boy, and don’t let any Blue-eyed Snake warriors in until his fate has been decided.”

**********************************************************************

Namiir followed the Shamans and Chief out of the tent, across the camp and into the Shaman’s home. “The Voice was very curious about you, Namiir, you’ve been in his dreams of late. When was the last time you communed with him?”

“Never. I wasn’t old enough, and I’ll never be a Shaman, my gift isn’t strong enough to do anyone much good.”

“But you do, in fact, have the Gift?” Halef asked.

Namiir looked uncomfortable. “Our Shaman says the magic is there, but I’ve never been able to use it. I could never light candles, fly…it’s not wild magic either…”

“But the magic is there.” Karra confirmed. “I can see it.”

“The Voice wants you to continue on your way to Tortall.” Halef informed her. “He wants to meet you.” Namiir had butterflies in her stomach. The Voice needed her for something important. She knew there was a reason she’d chosen to go North.

Kourrem brightened as inspiration hit her. “The boy needs to leave the desert, that much is clear. We know he can fight, he stood against many of our warriors. He’s Scanran, he knows the Nothern lands. He can take Namiir to the Voice.”

Halef looked solemn. “There’s only one way the Blue-eyed Snake warriors will agree to that. He’ll need to offer a blood oath.”

CHAPTER 10:

Sheena gave a long, frustated sigh. Nothing was going her way! The Bloody Hawk chief wanted the Scanran to live, and her sister had a task from the Voice?!

Looking deeper into the fire, Sheena tried to see a different future, the one that she wanted. But all she could see as Namiir's smiling face as she took Sheena's glory.

With a harsh cry, Sheena rose to her feet and hurtled her Gift at the nearest object in her tent, not caring what she hit. The table broke in half with a sickening crunch. The pleasure of using her Gift did not affect Sheena as usual; instead, thoughts that she didn't care for at all were plaguing her.

Have I not done what is right all along? Sheena thought desperately to herself. She had been so sure she was on the right path...so sure of herself. As she always was.

With a grim expression, Sheena flew out of her tent and into the desert. She needed to be alone.

***********************************************

Weiryn looked down upon Namiir's sister with a frown on his face. This will not do, he thought. It will not do in the least.

Weiryn sighed. When had mortals become so troublesome? Why couldn't they just worship the gods and trust in the gods' power as they once had? Instead, these mortals stirred up trouble everywhere they went!

It was time the God of Hunting had a talk with Namiir's troublesome sister. She needed some sense to be knocked into her head.

Weiryn grabbed his cloak and bow. He knew these Bazhir. They would only listen to him if he appeared to him in all of his godliness.

This Bazhir was no different from the hundreds of others he had dealt with before.

Of that, Weiryn was certain.

Some more of Chapter 10(?)

Sheena careened through the dessert, gliding over hillsides and skimming across sands when suddenly and invisible hand plucked her from the air and forced her to the ground. An antlered man appeared, bow slung casually over his caped shoulder. Sheena swallowed hard. A God. She was pleased someone divine had finally taken an interest in her. If only Namiir could see—

“My name is Weiryn, Northern God of the Hunt. I came to you to talk about Namiir.” The god started. Sheena wanted to scream. Her gift flared and was immediately shut down by a higher power.

“Those tricks won’t impress a God.” Weiryn said coldly. “You’ve caused more than your share of chaos for the Bazhir over the last few days; I was under the impression Shamans were wise leaders, not volatile and selfish children.”

“I am still learning, Great one.” Sheena mumbled guiltily.

Weiryn softened. “Here’s your opportunity for a great lesson then, little shaman. You sent warriors to attack one of my chosen; you did it wrongly, based on assumptions colored by what you *wanted* to believe. You brought even more embarrassment to your sister--

“I am sorry, Bright one. Show me how to fix it, give me ANY task and I’ll do it.”

“If you want forgiveness, Sheena, you first have to admit you’ve sinned.” Weiryn winked and disappeared. Sheena shut both her eyes and tried to think. When she opened them, she realized she was at the edge of the Bloody Hawk settlement. It was clear what the god wanted her to do. Taking a deep breath and gathering her dignity, Sheena strode toward the tents; it was time to tell the truth.

*********************************************

Halef, Kara and Koureem were losing ground in their argument. The visiting warriors wanted Emery’s blood—all of it—and his mount. Death to the Scanran child-killer. Namiir did her best to argue Emery had helped her fight the Hillman, but one warrior countered she had been in the midst of battle, and likely confused. Emery sat by the fire, tied, dizzy, and magically drained. Hokan, while he was across the camp, did his best to comfort his friend.

“You have two shamans and a chief on your side.”

“And half a tribe of warriors against me.” Emery countered darkly. “Who do you think would win in a fight?”

“Weiryn would not let our quest end like this.”

“What IS it between you and him? Before I die, I want to know…” Emery’s thought was interrupted as a girl strode quietly and purposefully past him. It was impossible to tell what she looked like with her face covered, but something in her movements reminded him of Namiir.

“I have something to say.” She addressed Halef. All talk had stopped the moment she came into view. “For those of you that don’t know me, I am Sheena, younger daughter of Karis fez-Kai, apprentice to Kesaa fez-Kai. It was my vision that prompted you to attack the Scanran.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I…was…wrong.”

Emery caught the look of surprise on Namiir’s face. Despite everything, he smiled. So she wasn’t hardened against every surprise. The apprentice shaman continued, “The Hunt God came to me and pointed out my error. He delivered me here so that I might fix the wrongs I had committed. The Scanran is innocent.”

“Is this enough proof for the warriors of the Blue-eyed Snake?” Halef asked. The warriors grumbled amongst themselves for a few moments. Finally, a young one dared, “He is still guilty of trespassing on our land; God chosen or not, he must respect our territories.” There was a murmur of agreement amongst the warriors.

Halef raised his hand to silence them. “I propose he pays for his mistake by promising to protect and guide Namiir on her way to the Voice in Corus.”

Namiir tried to protest that she could handle herself, but someone cut her off.

“How will we ensure the Scanran does not break his oath?” A grizzled old warrior asked, hefting his spear.

“He will make the oath in blood.”

Emery shuddered. If he failed, or tried to go back on his word, he would die. Halef looked down at Emery. “take the oath, or you WILL die.” Halef murmured.

“Make the oath lad; you’re on the right track.” Weiryn’s voice echoed in Emery’s ears. The young knight nodded wearily in acceptance.

************************************************

Namiir packed Tarub’s saddle bags with ferocious intensity. Her glorious, perfect sister had come to save the day--yet again. If those idiot warriors had only *listened* to what Namiir had to say…Namiir hoped Sheena would leave without rubbing the whole affair in her face. Namiir hadn’t stuck around to hear the blood oath--utter male rubbish anyway, SHE had done most of the work in the fight against the Hillmen. The Scanran would only slow her down and the Voice needed her as quickly as possible.

Sheena walked in on her very jittery older sibling. Namiir stopped and stared warily at her sister. “What do you want now?” Namiir snapped.


*************************************************

......................Alright, I've said too much already, someone else should finish this chapter.

*********
"Ahem." Suddenly Sheena was her old confident self again. "As I mentioned before, I spoke to the Might God of Hunting-"

"Yes, I know, I spoke with two gods today," Namiir snapped, annoyed. Already her sister was making herself more honored than she was!

"Well, yes, of course," Sheena said hastily, "he says I have another apology to make."

Namiir was so surprised, she dropped what she was holding. "What?"

"I am to apologize to you," Namiir could hear to her satisfaction how humiliated Sheena was to utter those words. "That is, I apologize. Gods know for what." And with that, Namiir's younger sister stomped of to mount her horse and rode haughtily back to her tribe, with as much dignity as she could.

"Well," Weiryn was there, and helped Namiir mount her horse. "I suppose I should have expected just as much. She might have been a bit more....obediant. I am a god, after all."

Namiir had to laugh at the indignance in his voice.

She spotted Emery speaking softly to his horse not to far away. She still wasn't sure she forgave him for being a Scanran. Looking back at the God of Hunters, she began to ask what the Scanran was doing in these parts-Weiryn disappeared.

"You can't stall forever!" Namiir called to the open air. "At one point you will have to answer me!"

Grumbling, she set off, and told herself she was not happy to hear Hakon's hoofbeats behind her, no matter how faster her heart beat.

*************
:* :* :* :*
*************

Wow, this story is getting out of hand! :7

********************************************************

As Sheena rode through the desert, she felt another presence in the wind. Drawing her horse to a stop, Sheena called out, “Weiryn, is that you? I did what you said, I did it.”

“I would never ask you to do something so embarrassing, child.” A voice drifted through her ears, smooth as silk. “I came to offer you power, the power to create your own glory, to be greater than that uncouth sister of yours.”

“I’m listening.”

“This world is unbalanced; children’s souls wander the lands, lost forever. You could save them, Sheena, you can bring them peace. Come to the Black City.”

The Black City? That place was evil! No Bazhir ever went there willingly—

“Sheena, the evil there was defeated long ago by the Voice himself. There’s no danger—but there IS power. Are you strong enough to master it?”

Sheena gritted her teeth. She’d show Namiir, she’d show her father, she’d show the world she deserved to be great. Spurring her horse back into a gallop, Sheena turned and headed toward the Black City.

*************************************************************

Jonathan was even more somber than usual as he greeted his Champion. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“That’s why I came…” Alanna’s voice pried gently.

The King sighed. “You’re probably one of the few people capable of understanding my dreams. First, the Dark God came to me and said souls were…missing. Then—do you remember the Black City? It’s active again, and its power is building. I sent mages there several weeks ago on a whim, and…

“We destroyed the Ysandir years ago.” Alanna’s face was tight with memory.

“It’s not the Ysandir, it’s something new, Alanna, but it’s nearly as strong. My mages renewed the circle of fire to keep the power contained, but we don’t know how long it will last.

“I’m ready to leave when you are.” Alanna gripped Lightening for reassurance.

“I can’t go. There’s a reason the Voices of old never entered the Black City. If the powers of the Black City were able to defeat the Voice, all Bazhir connected to him would be under its control. That would include you as well.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“My latest dream showed a Bazhir girl who fights like a Shang and has an untapped Gift. Halef spoke to me yesterday to say that such a girl wandered onto his land. She and a Scanran are now headed toward Corus. The Scanran is God-touched and I suspect the girl has powers of her own. We must meet them.”

“What was a Scanran doing in the desert?”

Jon shrugged dismissively. “Who knows? At least it’s one less problem for our Northern Border patrol to worry about.”

Chapter 11:

"So here's what we do," said Alanna, "I meet the Scanran maggot and the girl, we go to the Black City, defeat the power that is growing there and accept the girl into the court as a reward for her help."

"What about the Scanran?" Jon raised his eyebrows.

"He's a Scanran maggot!" the Champion shouted. "He kept me from seeing my family for nearly two year! And he killed many children to make evil monsters out of them," she added hastily.

"He had nothing to do with it, Lioness. Or did you forget that Mugger used his own people for his monsters? From what Halef Seif tells me, he cares not for his people, let alone the monstrosity they cooked up there."

"Then give him a medal," Alanna grumbled. "A Scanran can never be accepted in Tortall, not while I'm alive."

"We shall see. Now, I suppose you don't want an escort-"

"No. I'll go alone, with my squire."

"Yes, my lady," Jonathan grinned. "Stubburn as a mule, so everything must be in order."

"I'll be gone by tomorrow."

"It is most urgent, Alanna."

"I'll be gone by tonight."

"Much better."

********
yes, I know, didn't add much to the story, so sue me...x(

Hey! *looks around accsingly* No one's updating!

hmmm, I feel like I should've waited for someone new to add something but since no one's posted in a week...

*****************************************

Emery watched suspiciously as Namiir prepared the campfire. They’d made it out of the desert in a single day. The cut on his arm had healed, but his pride was another story. The Bazhir had treated him worse than the lowliest criminal, his word to them was worth less than their horses dung—the scar on his arm (from the blood oath) was proof of that. This was NOT why he became a knight. For Mithros sakes, he’d taken an oath to serve and protect those weaker than him; Scanran oaths were no different than the ones Tortallians dished out. He’d see this girl safely to Corus if it killed him—not that he had a choice.

Namiir felt the accusing glare of her traveling companion as she arranged kindling. Yes, it was partially her fault he’d been captured, but she’d done her best to talk Halef out of the oath. She didn’t want to be with him anymore than he wanted to be here with her.

Tarub and Hakon munched cautiously on some wild grass, the tension between the two-leggers was palpable. ‘Should you talk to him or shall I?’ The mare asked. Hakon swallowed and let out a sigh.

‘I’ve known him longer, and I know how far to push. It’s a shame Namiir doesn’t have wild magic, she’s more likely to listen.’

Tarub snorted. ‘Get to know her a little longer and you won’t be thinking that way.’

Hakon bared his teeth in a horse smile. He walked over to Emery and butted the knight gently. ‘Walk with me. You need the exercise.’

‘Last time I took a walk in the dark, I wound up—“Ow!” Emery’s though was cut off by the sudden pain as Hakon’s teeth clamped down on his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes; the horses need to talk to me.”

“Good. Maybe if you spend enough time with the animals they’ll manage to make you human, Scanran.” Namiir’s emotions were as dry and worn as desert sand, the last thing she needed was her companion plotting things behind her back.

“Better than an outcast desert snake!” Emery shot back as he stalked away. “Ow!” Hakon had bit him again. “You know, I’ve seen people abuse their horses, but never the other way around. I can understand your language, you know. Some people try using words instead of their teeth.”

Hakon ignored the comment. ‘For someone who wants to be respected as a knight, you certainly aren’t acting like one.’ Hakon chastised the boy as they wandered back to where Tarub was tethered. Emery blushed. He started to mutter that she’d started it, but Tarub cut him off.

‘Emery, Namiir has been with me since I was a colt. She has spirit, and honor, and she’s hurting—much like you. It is no small thing to be cast out of one’s tribe; she no longer has a home or family. You could try to be nicer.’ Emery wouldn’t be surprised if his cheeks started glowing in the dark from embarrassment. He was an idiot.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He walked back to Namiir, who now had a small fire going. She looked up at him, her eyes wary. “First of all, my name is Emery, not Scanran. Second, I’ve always been human, and I’m man enough to admit when I’ve behaved badly. I don’t expect you like me, but we’re going to have to work together for the next two weeks, and those days will pass much easier if we at least act civil toward each other. Truce?”

‘He almost sounds sincere.’ Namiir thought. Guiltily, she remembered all the bitter comments she’d made about his heritage. He had taken her side against the Hillmen, and despite her attitude, he hadn’t done anything outrageous in response. Then she remembered the blood oath. That was the only reason he was pretending to care. He would have abandoned her by now if his life weren’t dependant on getting her safely to the Voice.

She didn’t answer. A growl of frustration escaped him. He grabbed his bedroll and furiously prepared his bed. The air was as warm as his temper, so he peeled his shirt off to keep cool. Namiir gasped. With a rush of adrenaline he scanned for an enemy, simultaneously groping for a weapon. No one was there. “What?” He asked.

“Where did you get that?” She asked, pointing towards the scar that stretched across his torso. It was the only flaw she could see on his finely toned upper body, but it was quite a mark.

“I was shooting at a killing device and I got too close. The soul had escaped, but when the monstrosity fell, one of its hands sliced through my mail. Hakon saved me, with the help of the hunt God Weiryn.”

“You fought a killing device?” Namiir asked, not comprehending. “You’re Scanran—

“I wish you’d stop saying that like it was a bad thing. Maggur kept hostages to keep us loyal; I thought I explained that to you.”

“I thought you were just trying to talk your way out of getting killed. But…you stood against one, and lived?” And she’d had the audacity to call him a fool.

“Maybe tomorrow, I’ll tell you that story. It’ll make the ride pass faster.”

*******************************************************

They made it into the first city late that afternoon, Emery had just finished relating the details of his encounter with Weiryn.

“What you’re looking for may find you?” Namiir repeated, thinking. “And he just told you to look in the desert? That was it?”

“Yeah. I’m having a hard time with that part.” They passed a street vender selling meat pies, and Emery stopped and dismounted to buy two. Without thinking, he passed one to her.

“You don’t have to do that.” She said quietly. Emery blinked. He’d forgotten he was still Scanran scum; she probably wouldn’t eat anything he touched.

“Sorry. I was hungry and I thought you might be, too.”

“Yes. But I’ve already thrown you off your quest, bound you into being my escort—possibly at the cost of your own life—the last thing I should be doing is emptying your purse.”

“Trust me, Weiryn said to take the oath, so I can’t be that far off track, and you won’t beggar me with a single meat pie.” He held it out again, and this time she took it. He tucked away a smile. Finally, the desert girl was starting to warm up.

They found an inn with two rooms and Emery brought the horses into the stable. He made sure to ask the horses already checked in if they were being treated well. Only after he had confirmed that they were content did he leave Hakon and Tarub.

*******************************

okay, so, I managed to start italics, but everything after the 'i' in brackets was italicized. How do I end them? I think what you said was double quotation marks but, that didn't work. Neither did apostrophes or single quotation marks...

anyway, here's proof I figured half of it out

To start italics <i> and to end </i> Except with square brackets. Like so:

See? It's not so bad!

Whee! :7

aww...Namiir and Emery made up!

And now...*rubs hands*

Chapter (?):

The two quietly ate in the inn, exchanging only comments about the weather, and how close they were to Tortall. Emery flirted with the waitress, to Namiir's obvious annoyance, and the two parted each to his-or her-own room.

Once Emery lay down on his cot, he could not fall asleep. At least, Not with Namiir's wide eyes looking down at him in his mind's eye; and the many braids she tied securely, and...he shook himself. Control yourself he scolded himself. I'm to escort her to Tortall, and that is all. Besides, she hates you for being a Scanran.

But still he could not fall asleep. With a growl of impatience, he leaped out of his bed and stormed into the hallway and-

-bumped into Namiir.

"Oh, so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Namiir seemed just as embarrassed and-glad?-to have bumped into him.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered.

"Same."

The two sighed, and sat on the floor in silence.

Each seemed to be miracously distracted by a leaf or a patch of dust. They didn't notice the stocky red-headed knight untill a voice snapped, "Okay, you two lovebuds, let's just get this straight."

The two jumped, because they were surprised to find the knight standing before them, but also because he had called them lovebuds.

Namiir stood hastily and bowed. Eyeing the knight's badge that named him Champion of Tortall, she said, "Good evening, Sir Knight. What brings you to the humble desert of the Bazhir?"

The knight took off his helmet to reveal that he was indeed a she. Emery, who had just managed to stand, gasped in surprise and fell back to the floor once more. The Lioness smiled. "It's the two of you that brought me to the desert."

"Us?" the two choked in surprise as Namiir helped Emery to his feet.

"Yes, yes, by order of His Most Royal Majesty, King Jonathan IV, the Voice of the Tribes."

"The one with the Blue Eyes of the Snake," Namiir whispered.

"What snake?" Alanna snapped. "His Majesty is not a snake!"

Namiir laughed, and explained her tribe's myth to the famed knight. "Our tribe believes that long ago, the Blue Eyed Snake protected our tribe from the Unnamed ones. But the evil spirits of the Black City then killed the snake, but what they did not know was that he had left decendants. Centuries later, the Blue Eyed Snake's decendant-the Voice-entered the Black City with his champion-yourself, lady knight" she said with a bow, "and defeated the Unnamed ones once and for all."

"Well, that's nice," Alanna said softly. "Here's a song they haven't sung in Tortall yet."

"Ahem," Emery coughed for attention. "Why is it that His Majesty of Tortall cares for two outcasts like ourselves?"

Alanna grinned. "The Blue Eyed Snake has his own reasons," she said in the most mysterious voice, making Emery's eyes widen. Namiir eyed the knight, and the two women burst out in laughter.

********

Yes, my updates are short and don't get anywhere, but I enjoy the occasional laugh...:7

yay, totally solved the italics mystery. Good thing too, 'cause I need 'em to write this chapter. What're we on now? Chapter 12?

*****************************************************

The next day on the road was considerably less comfortable for Emery. The Lioness ignored him, speaking almost exclusively to Namiir as she told the girl about life in Tortall. Sulking, Emery asked Hakon to hang toward the back so it would be less awkward. The women were starting to talk about boys now.

“Yes, you’ll find the occasional sexist bigot, but usually you can smell their stink coming a mile away. It’s the rogues you have to watch out for. They’ll steal your heart if you let them. I lost my heart to the king of rogues.”

“What happened?” Namiir asked eagerly.

There was a mischievous twinkle in Alanna’s eye. “I married him.”

Emery rolled his eyes. The day women chose outlaws over knights-in-shining-armor would be the same day chivalry died.

Alanna continued, “You’ll find that there’s more freedom in Tortall. Gods all bless the Bazhir, but they can be a little…strict when it comes to tradition. Just be yourself, and you’ll go far.”

"mama?"

Namiir pulled Tarub to a stop. “Did you hear that?” She asked.

“Hear what?” The knights answered in unison.

"mama?

“That! There’s a child somewhere nearby, calling for its mother.”

Alanna and Emery looked around, straining with their senses. “I don’t hear anything.” Alanna replied.

Namiir closed her eyes to concentrate on the sound alone. It was coming from the north. She went still, willing herself almost into a trance.

"mama?" the child’s voice was definitely louder now.

“I’m not your mama, little one, but I will help you find her if you come out where I can see you.” Namiir tried her best to sound kind and trustworthy.

" I want to go home…"

“Let me help you.” Namiir replied, dismounting and reaching a hand out in front of her, palm out. A child came out of the bushes, clutching at the branches for reassurance. How could a child that perfect be out alone in the woods? Her hair was combed into soft golden curls and she wore a white, unstained nightgown.

“Is anyone out there? Please, tell me where this child belongs!” Namiir called out. Something roared in her ears as the Black God stepped out of nowhere to scoop the child up into his arms.

“Thank you for finding her, young one. She’s been missing for many of your months.” The God's voice crept across her mind like the darkest shadow.

Namiir didn’t understand. “You can’t take her; she needs to find her mama.”

“Trina is dead, Namiir, let her come with me so her soul may rest.” The Dark God was feeling usually patient today.

“No!”

“Namiir, whatever you’re doing, stop doing it now.” Alanna grabbed the Bazhir girl and shook her out of the trance. Namiir opened her eyes—-how long had they been shut? Namiir hadn’t noticed the jewel hanging around the Champion’ neck before now, it was glowing.

Hakon, Tarub and Moonlight all pranced anxiously. “What’s going on?” Emery asked them softly.

“Death magic.” Hakon replied nervously, almost rearing onto his hind legs.

“You’re a necromancer?” Emery asked shakily, letting Hakon sidle farther away. This was more than he’d bargained for.

Alanna looked at him sharply. “Are you an expert on the subject, Scanran? Did you know she had this ability when you first encountered her?”

Emery saw where the questions were going. “The horses just told me it was death magic, Lady knight. I swore to protect her on the journey to Corus, so I’m not about to kidnap and bring her back to the war council, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Convenient though, of all the people in the desert, you--a Scanran--happen to find one who can speak to the dead.”

“Stop it; I wasn’t speaking to the dead. Trina was right in front of us, you saw her.” Namiir saw the looks of confusion on her companions faces. “You mean…you didn’t see that?”

“I’ve been in the Dark God’s presence before, and I recognize the sensation. But no, I didn’t see Trina, or the God.” Alanna gripped the stone, tugging the string as she thought. “Jonathan is gonna love this one.” She muttered.

******************************************************

Namiir slept for the rest of the day. With a word from Emery, Tarub made sure she stayed in the saddle. He himself rode behind Namiir, and the Lioness in front. He had a feeling she would not enjoy his company.

The road split; one side towards Tortall, the other to Persopolis. When the Lioness turned left, Emery broke the silence. "That's the wrong way!" he called.

"Depends where you're headed."

"Tortall! I am to escort Namiir to Tortall!"

"Not before we finish the task the gods have given us."

Emery fumed, confused and annoyed that yet again his quest was delayed.

"Persopolis?" Namiir mumbled, waking up at last. "Never been t'Persopolis."

"We'll be there by the time the sun sets."

"Oh good..." Namiir slept once more.

*******

Yes, I know it isn't much, but y'all have such great ideas I just think I should leave the writing to you...:P

okay, hi,

No, I'm not gonna post anything storywise just yet, my brothers are nearby, pestering me to release the computer so they can play addicting games(.com) but, I finished reading "Terrier" (Yip) and now that I have, I just want to say it would be a great referance for Namiir's powers and how they work. Btw, here's my legal loophole, I'm not saying where the plotline is going, just pointing out where to find inspiration to make your ideas work in a very Tortall-world fashion.

I haven't read Terrier yet :( so I don't know about the whole necromancy thing there. No matter how much I hinted, my parents didn't get me Terrier for Hanuka. ;(

Sometimes, libraries will let you make a request to order a book for their shelves. I did that when the first Trickster book came out, and they got it. ('course, by the time it came, I had lost patience and bought a copy for myself). But the book is still there, for all the TP fans in the neighborhood to check it out (pun intended).

Anyway, I figured since I wasn't the last person to add plot stuff, and since no one else has updated Namiir's story in a week, I'd do it. But, seriously, what happened to uniquelyinsane, Pulchritudinous etc? The point of this is to get a variety of voices, and everyone was participating before. Where'd they go?

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When they arrived, Emery pulled Namiir out of the saddle and into his arms. Alanna was going to protest, but then Moonlight nudged her toward the stables, almost begging for food. Alanna patted her mount and led him off; she would be able to find the younglings easily enough. The other two horses followed her. Emery grinned as the Lioness walked away, and he sent a silent ‘thank-you’ to Moonlight. With Namiir in his arms, Emery walked into the castle.

The desert girl inhaled deeply, and wrapped her arms instinctively around the person carrying her. Emery paused, drinking in the feeling of her soft hair against his chest and her smooth arms on his neck.

Alanna had sent a magical message ahead, the servants were expecting them. No one challenged Emery as he walked past the gates—it was a nice change. He was shown into a small, single bedroom, presumably for Namiir. Gently, he set her down on the bed, and pulled the covers over her.

Weiryrn was waiting for Emery in his room. The god had already started a fire, and was pacing around the floor. Emery titled his head quizzically, what was wrong now?

“Namiir’s sister has done something rash.” The Hunt god began. Emery sat down, waiting. “Sheena has gone to the black city, alone.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” Emery asked. On the journey, Tarub had explained some of the legends surrounding the Black City.

“She went alone and didn’t stop at any villages. The power contained in that city will swallow her if no one comes to her rescue.”

“What’s in there? I thought the Bazhir said their Voice defeated the “Nameless Ones” years ago.”

“The Yasandir are gone, the power remains. The source of power the City itself; its very walls and altars. Centuries ago, the Yasandir were a group of mages who banded together and built the Black City, sealing the fortress with all their combined gifts. They created the City, and in turn, the City protected and empowered them for as long as they lived there. They fed the power with the souls of Bazhir children—just as Blayce did on a smaller scale with his nightmare devices. When the Yasandir were destroyed, the City lived on, powered by the spells carved into its every surface. Power like that cannot sit unused; it will call anyone it can. You must get Sheena out of there before she gives in to it. Destroy the City.”

“What about Namiir?”

“Take her with you, blood runs thicker than most magic.” Weiryn drew a longbow out of thin air. “Take this as well. It’s past time I bestowed one upon you.”

Emery tested the bow’s strength. Perfect. “Thank you. Is this the quest you spoke of?” The young knight looked up, but Weiryn was already gone.

***********************************************

Namiir awoke the next morning from a pleasant, Emery scented dream. Opening her eyes, she was in a strange room, with her belongings arranged neatly at the foot of the bed. So she probably wasn’t a prisoner, or in any immediate danger. She peered out the door, trying to find someone familiar.

Alanna met her in the hallway. “Mithros bless you, Good morning. Now that you’re up, I need to talk to you about that little spectacle the other day. You’ll want to watch how you spend your gift from now on. You went a little too far that time; consider yourself lucky you were only tired, not dead.”

“How can I use my gift without knowing?”

Alanna looked frustrated. “I don’t know how death-magic works—there are few mages in Tortall that do. I’ll write to my husband and father and have them search their libraries; but this is a rare…gift.” Alanna almost hesitated to call it a gift.

Emery appeared, armed to the teeth and with a breakfast tray in hands. Seeing that Namiir was already awake, he turned beet red. Wordlessly, he swept past her and placed the tray on the bedside table. Alanna gave the boy a knowing look, but didn’t comment.

“We need to talk.” Emery gestured to the room. The women traded glances and went inside. “Weiryn visited me last night.” Alanna gave him a skeptic look, which Emery had already anticipated. He pulled the longbow off his shoulder and offered it to her. “Tell me this isn’t from the divine realms.” He challenged.

Alanna fingered the stone around her neck, considering. “It’s genuine. What did He have to say?”

Emery glanced worriedly at Namiir. “You’re not gonna like this.” He warned. “Namiir, your sister has gone to the Black City.”

Namiir felt something cold and hard in her stomach; it grew until even her throat felt numb. Sheena was in the Black City. No Bazhir ever wished that even on their worst enemy. Her little sister’s soul was in danger.

“We have to do something…” she croaked, feeling sick.

Emery explained the rest of what Weiryn had revealed.

“Destroy a City?” Alanna asked. “Even John and I didn’t go that far.”

“Sheena could do it.” Namiir said glumly. “She has an extraordinary Gift for blowing up anything in front of her.”

Emery watched Namiir sympathetically. He knew what it felt like to have a sibling taken away.

“Do you have any arrows worthy of that bow?” Alanna asked Emery, trying to change the subject; hoping that maybe Namiir would be able to eat soon. The girl hadn’t had a bite since her encounter with the Black God.

Emery showed the Lioness what he had left. He’d spent many hunting and defending himself on the way to the desert, his quiver was running dangerously low. Alanna hauled herself to her feet and went to her room, returning with a stack of griffin-fletched arrows. Emery gaped and turned each one over respectfully. “You have a fortune’s worth here.” His voice was filled with admiration.

“Take them. If you’re Weiryn’s chosen, you’re probably a far better shot than I.” Alanna looked slightly sheepish. “My new daughter-in-law keeps coming home with more feathers than my family knows what to do with. But that’s another story.”

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Okay, yeah, that last line was a reference to Altair, my apologies, couldn’t resist. Besides, what better way to end a story-post than by breaking the 5th wall?

Hello! Yes, I'm still alive. School's been INSANE lately. But I'm back.

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"Hello?" Sheena called into the the empty doorway of an abandoned house. "Anyone here?"

Unsure, she walked into the building, her feet tapping loudly. Looking around, she could see dust everywhere, and a doll lay at her feet.

Some little girl must have droped this... Sheena thought, picking it up and dusting it off.

"Mama?" Startled, Sheena looked up from the doll, trying to determine where the voice had come from.

"Hello? Is someone there? Do you need help?" Sheena called into the empty house. She walked down the hallway leading toward the back of the house. Her feet left footprints in the dirt covering the floor.

"Mama?" There, there it was. That child's voice. It sounded farther away now...Sheena kept walking, trying to find the speaker in the house.

"I'm Sheena, please don't be afraid. I can help you find your mama." Sheena said to the empty room.

"So you're Sheena." The voice came from behind her.

Sheena whipped around to see who was talking. It was indeed a little girl. She looked to be about 4 or 5 years old. She was wearing atattered blue nightgown, and her brown hair was a tangled mass falling down her back.

"You're not what I expected." The girl's voice sounded amused, and much older than Sheena was expecting.

"W-what do you mean?" Sheena stammered.

"So you're the apprentice shaman of the Blue-Eyed Snake? This is the famous, arrogant Sheena?"

"I-I don't know what you mean." All of Sheena's instincts were screaming at her to run, but this girl in the nightgown fascinated her. Besides, the apprentice shaman of the Blue-Eyed Snake could certainly handle one little girl.

"I found your doll," Sheena said abruptly, reaching to pull it from her bag. Her hand grasped only air. Puzzled, Sheena looked closer.

"Looking for this?" The girl held up her hand, with the tiny doll clutched in her pale hand.

"How did you get that? Did you steal that from me?" Sheena asked, enraged.

"Oh no, my dear. This is my doll. It was you who stole from me ," the girl's eyes began to glint dangerously, and Sheena suddenly realized that this was no little girl she was talking to.

"Oh, you're Excellency. I-I'm sorry. I'll be on my way, then Great God." Sheena turned to run.

The being, who no longer wore the guise of a little girl, raised her head and looked straight at Sheena.

"I existed before your precious Gods were conceived. And you shall help me live long after they have perished." The being bared her teeth and lunged for Sheena.

She did not have time to scream.
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Okay, so not very good...but I'm rusty. :)

Time for a new voice to enter! *flourishes*
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Chapter # something-or-other
Emery hissed through gritted teeth as something sharp poked his side. Shaking away the sleep fogging his eyes, the Scanran knight turned to see what had hit him. All that Emery's light eyes met was the sight of Namiir packing up her sadle bag while a yawn stretched her pretty lips.

Wait, he thought to himself, startled, when did I start thinking of her as pretty?

Hokan snorted casting a look at his master and friend while Alanna made him submit to her minstrations on the black stallion's gear. Smiling, the violet eyed woman patted the horse on the shoulder. "You remind me of Jon's first real horse, big guy."

I'll take that as a compliment, then, the big horse thought to the company at large, though only the other horses and Emery could hear.

Mounting up after he'd rolled his bedroll into his saddle bag, Emery looked curiously at his companions. "So where are we going that I needed to sacrifice half a night of sleep for?" He spoke jokingly, pale eyes glimmering in the half darkness of a grey pre-dawn.

Namiir rolled her eyes and the lady knight tried to hide a smile but didn't succeed. "We're off to the Black City," the latter said, kicking Moonlight into an easy canter. Namiir and Emery hurried to catch up to her pace, their bigger horses succeeding easily.

Whooping loudly into the wind, Alanna left a troubled Namiir to explain. "Lady Alanna had a visitation." It was far from helpful and Emery was just about to ask her to explain when the young girl gave him a piercing glance before staring straight ahead. "The Great Mother came to her and spoke of trouble in the City. It seems that even though she's heartless and cruel, Sheena still counts as a woman." The words were spoken with disgust and loathing, so Emery decided it was prudent not to question Namiir further.

"Alright, how long until we get there then?" The question was simple and Emery felt it would help Namiir loosen up again. She'd been doing so well.

Slowing Moonlight momentarily so she caught the younglings again, Alanna answered, a grin still on her face. "A few hours, not even. It shouldn't take long at all." Words exhausted, the trio fell into an uneasy but companionable silence for the next few hours.
-----------------------
Approaching the Black City in the early morning, Alanna motioned for Emery and Namiir to dismount. Giving her faithful mare a rub on her dun colored cheek, the King's Champion's purple eyes were grave. She moved closer to the others so she could whisper while still being heard. This ominous place still gave the seasoned warrior the willies.

"We need to be careful. Leave the horses outside, it's better for them." Noticing Namiir's wide-eyed distress, Alanna stared at her crossly. "What now?" she whispered furiously.

Namiir pressed her lips together before answering most respectfully. "But...isn't it dangerous to go in there? Won't our souls be in danger?" Though she knew the Blue-Eyed Snake and his Champion had destroyed the Nameless Ones, the Black City still held a terrible fear for all Bazhir.

Sighing and rubbing her temples, Alanna shut her brilliant eyes for a few seconds. Snapping them open, she explained, "It'll be fine. All three of us are good fighters and have our own special magics. Besides," she added, exhaustion just beginning to creep into her voice; she wasn't as young as she used to be, "I can call on the Great Mother, Emery's got Weiryn, and I'm sure if you asked nicely, Namiir, the Black God might be nice enough to come to our aid." Mentally, Alanna crossed her fingers and sent a little prayer to her patron.

For the first time since their arrival, Emery spoke. "So, should we get to it then?" His eyes searched the faces of the two women. "I mean, if Sheena's in danger..." Suddenly a blood-curdling scream split the air, cutting the Scanran's words off. Unsheathing her sword, Alanna swore like several disreputable sailors Emery had once overheard before she ran into the City, not waiting for either of the others. Namiir's eyes went wide with fear, but she rallied herself and pelted after the Lady Knight, drawing her blades as she ran.

Kicking up his heels, Emery ran after Alanna and Namiir, unslinging his bow from his shoulder and putting a Griffin fletched arrow to the string. He hoped the word about Griffin fletching was as good as they seemed.

Following the pale blue glimpses of Namiir's robes and the orangey-scarlet of Alanna's hair, Emery slid to a stop in a wide courtyard at the center of the city. If the rest of the tall black buildings were bad, this place was the worst. Even worse than Blayce's machines. Allowing himself a short pause, Emery watched Namiir run up the steps before joining her flight.

Taking the steps two at a time, Emery soon entered the frightening temple. He rammed into something, glancing down to realize it was Namiir, now petrified with fear and horrification. Looking past her dark head of hair, Emery swore when he saw what put the young woman in this state.

Alanna stood with her sword held at near a strange creature's shape. Sheena's bleeding for had fallen to the ground some time before Emery had entered, likely when Alanna had interrupted the strangely changing creature from her meal.

It obviously was female, though her skin, hair, eyes, everything about her, changed form every few moments. First it was a nasty being with the hair of a fox, eyes of a snake, skin of a fish, and snout of a dog. The next moment it was a totally different combination entirely.

"So!" Alanna hissed, her violet eyes large but not showing the anxiety she must have been feeling. "You've abandoned your prison, Chaos!" Another string of curses ran through Emery's mind as the realizatin struck him that they were dealing with a totally unpredictable and highly dangerous immortal. Not good.

Putting a soothing hand on Namiir's shoulder, the tall man moved past her, his bow still in his hand. Glaring at Chaos to disguise his own fear, Emery took a stand a few paces behind Alanna, his bow at the ready.

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That's where I'll leave it for now. I hope you all liked that bit, I really enjoyed writing it.

Yay! A new member in Namiir's fanfic! Love your update!
Amalia

Thanks so much! Yes, I rather like how I wrote it, too. (not to sound full of myself). I also noticed how Alanna wasn't as IC as she could've been, so I felt I needed to put in a few particularly "Alanna" lines in my chappie.

Hey guys, new chapter.

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Emery’s blood went cold as he realized Chaos was free. He knew that, as a wild mage, his powers could easily be corrupted by this Divine being. If he remembered his lessons correctly, the only way to defeat her was to kill the being who’d set her free. Who had done such a thing? Ozorne—another former ally of Scanra—was dead. Oh no, don’t let it be Sheena. He pleaded mentally. Namiir can’t take this. His fingers wrapped around the bow string, taunt and ready.

“Why would I need mortal pawns when life and death have been all but thrown at my feet?” Chaos hissed, lashing out and recoiling as Alanna’s Lighting struck her. “Blayce, Kyprith, Immortal wars, the Dominion Jewel; this realm has no order anymore, it is time for me to rule. As your Great Gods scramble to cut their losses, they forget their duty to cage me.” Chaos slipped into the form of a beautiful young maiden and continued, “then the Yasandir left this lovely power source all prepped and charged, just waiting for someone to come along and use it. With this girl as my vessel,” a tendril slipped out and ran across Sheena’s forehead, “it will only take weeks for me to rule. I am so hungry, and you mortals put yourselves on a platter.” Her voice was like armor scraping across rock.

Enough. Emery released an arrow in Chaos’s direction, it hit her and was instantly absorbed. Chaos—now a multi headed cat—sneezed. “Griffins.” She muttered. “they itch of order, honesty.”

Sheena groaned. Namiir lunged forward to rescue her fallen sibling, but Emery caught her and held her back.

“Come, hold onto me; and don’t let go.” The Lioness shouted. Emery and Namiir each grabbed one of her hands as she began to chant. When Chaos’s mouth grew and tried to swallow them; but purple fire laced with black and copper as they formed an intricate, dome shaped shield. The ember stone around the Champions neck glowed with power and helped fuel their defense.

Weiryn appeared; his face was lined with rage. “Get back to your cage, Chaos, it’s only a matter of time before Mother Flame finds out you’ve escaped.” He lowered his chin and pointed his antlers at her threateningly.

“UPSTART! Filthy spawn of…” Chaos began to yell in a language the mortals didn’t understand.

Weiryn took a deep, steadying breath and drew a sword out of midair, brandishing it with a flourish. A hundred Chaotic snakes stretched toward him and he cut through them with Divine speed.

Emery continued to feed his gift to Alanna as the Great Mother appeared with the Black God. The two Greater Gods clapped their hands together, and with a flash of light, Chaos was gone. Emery could’ve sworn he heard the Great Mother mutter, “let Mithros thrash her, he needs the exercise.”

Weiryn straightened from his defensive crouch. “I told you so.” He deadpanned. The two older gods stiffened slightly, how dare he insult them in front of their followers! The Black God cast a glance over at Sheena. She was mostly gone; it would be kindest to take her now to the Peaceful realms so that here she could be remembered with honor.

Because Namiir’s connection with Alanna gave her a greater degree of control over her gift, the Bazhir girl could sense what he was doing. “No, please. She’s not dead yet. I beg you not to take her.” The Dark God paused, considering.

“I can heal her, if you allow me the time.” Alanna added.

The Dark God looked at her, his hooded face seemed to say, THIS IS THE LAST TIME, LIONESS. Alanna took that look to be a yes, and she rushed over to Sheena, touching the cut on the girl’s head gently.

The Great Mother disappeared, as did the Dark God. Weiryn remained, surveying the trio of warriors. One champion of life, one of death, and one of the People. To say they were a winning combination was an understatement. The Hunt God made a mental note to give Emery another clue for his quest next time they met.

Sheena woke with another groan, she sat up, and her face flushed red as memories returned. She couldn’t meet Namiir’s eyes; she didn’t even try. Emery lifted the younger Bazhir woman easily in his arms; the sooner they left this place, the better. Sheena felt unnaturally light.

The exited the city as quickly as possible. Once they were outside the city walls, Emery set Sheena down gently. She swayed for a moment, then found balance. The horses pranced anxiously when the warriors appeared. Each equine creature gave a through examination of his or her rider; Hakon whuffed through Emery’s hair, almost dog-like. “Never again, my friend.” Emery muttered, so only his horse could hear.

*****************************

Alanna led them back to the small oasis where they’d left the horses. While Sheena had regained consciousness she refused to say a word. Emery kept his distance; it was up to Namiir to talk to the Shaman apprentice. Sheena was her sister, as much as both girls seemed to hate that fact.

Emery slept uneasily that night, tossing and turning; something was still unfinished. He woke early and watched as the sun rose over the needle-like towers of the Black City. Chaos had alluded that the City itself was a power source, one that she’d been able to draw on. It had been fed with the souls of Bazhir children…Emery shuddered.

The grass rustled behind him, he turned to see a very pale Sheena, hugging herself, lost in thought. He gave her a gentle smile and offered to share the view. He sat, cross-legged and Sheena settled to his left. She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

“Rough month?” He asked dryly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She said, tiredly.

“Fine, I won’t make you. I hear you have a talent for blowing things up.”

Sheena shrugged. “It’s the Gift. I was the only one in the family to get it.” Bitterness seeped into her voice. “But of course, Namiir is the one with the divine favor, the one—I’m sorry, old habits die hard.”

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk, but I have to ask. Did you find anything unusual—I mean, anything that seemed…out of place in the Black City? Weiryn said there was a power source there, and I doubt Chaos had time to take it.”

“The first thing I noticed were the carvings. They were everywhere. At first, I thought they were decorative, just pictures of immortals. But, when I looked closer, I saw that they were men with the heads of lions, women with birds wings, and great cats with human faces. I’ve never heard of any immortals like that.”

“Wild magic allows people with very strong gifts to shape shift, but the Lioness never mentioned that the Nameless Ones had that ability.”

Sheena stared at the horizon. “Then maybe we’d better ask her.”

The two rose and headed back to the campfire. Emery cast another glance over his shoulder. The Black City jabbed up at the sky, as sharp and malevolent as ever.

*applauds* Yay! This was a very good update! I'll let someone else reply again before I do another chapter, I think.

"You can't be seriose?!?!" Emery shouted at Alanna. But before she even had a chance to reply, he knew that she was. "You want us, to go back into that place of evil?!?!?!?!?!"

"Yes," Alanna replied calmly. "I am going to finish healing Sheena this afternoon. Tonight, if Namiir desides to join the waken, we shall go back into Persopolis. We must slay whatever power resides there. You know that aswell as I do. Now, get your rest. It is going to be a long day."

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Sorry I couldn't write more. *yawn* I am beat!!! Mabey if someone replies I can write more tomorrow. I have noticed that the posting time on here is five minutes slower then my mom's laptop's computer clock. I think I am going to go to bed *yawn* Or go finish Terrier, again...TTLY!!!

Where'd everyone go? anyway, more story:
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Namiir gave Emery a mournful glance as they headed back in the city. Sheena walked stiffly, prepared to face death again. Alanna prowled, roving as she searched for the city’s power source. They studied the drawings that covered every surface of the city; and Sheena suggested that maybe those pictures were the spells.

Namiir traced his finger over a picture of a woman’s head on a cat’s body. “This is like no language I have ever seen.”

“It’s the language of necromancers; I’ve seen these symbols carved on the inside of Blayce’s killing devices.” Emery’s face darkened with memory.

Namiir leaped back. The last thing they needed was for her to accidentally wake something.

“Weiryn said the only way to destroy the power was to destroy the city.” Emery added.

Sheena looked at him sharply. “Why didn’t you say so?” She pointed to the nearest building and it collapsed in a heap of rubble. Her companions leaped out of the way of the falling debris.

“SHEENA!” The lioness roared. “Control yourself or so help me—

Alanna’s threats were cut off by Namiir’s scream. “What now?” the lady knight growled.

Namiir sunk her knees, clutching her head as voices filled her mind. People screamed in pain, and her cries were lost among theirs. Bazhir of ages past cried for their parents, friends, siblings, lovers…it was too much. Namiir opened her gift and let them flow through it, the souls cleansed themselves as they were guided to the peaceful realms. After several long minutes of agony, Namiir finally shifted through them all.

When she returned her consciousness to the physical world, she noticed Emery was holding her firmly in his arms, while the lioness worked to keep her awake. Namiir tried to shake them off, she was fine now. She glared at her sister. “Next time you do that, give us some warning. I just sent near twenty souls to the peaceful realms, and none were quiet about it.”

Emery looked at the two sisters. One with the power to destroy, the other with the power to comfort the dead. Now they knew that each building was constructed on the life-force of innocents; that was why the Nameless ones had needed so many sacrifices. For each building Sheena tore down, Namiir could guide those souls to the afterlife. The two sisters would have to work together. It seemed the descendants of the Blue-eyed snake were destined to cleanse the earth of the Ysandir, once and for all.

Wow guys, this is good!:D

SOMEONE UPDATE!!!! Sorry, I realize I'm probably the most impatient person here. But seriously, this is sooo good, I need to know. Anyone out there reading this message has to power to tell me (via a good, concise, story-post on this thread). I know you're out there...someone? Anyone?

OK. I have copied and pasted it into word. Once I have finished reading it, I will add to it. Happy?=}

Or not...*sniffles* I just relized that wouldn't work, so I have to read it by hand. Please be patient with me!!!

OK *sighs wearily* Please note the time that this was posted. 11:51 PM!!! It took me that long to read this story! I have a few things to fix witht he story, though. At the beggining of TC, right after George left Pirate's Swoop, Alanna came home. It said that her horse was an desendent of Moonlight, so that's kinda gotta be fixed. Now conserning Lightning. At the end of Lioness Rampant Alanna desided to leave Lightning in the middle of the weired spell thingy-ma-bobber.

Yesh, I know that, and I'm pretty sure at least some of the other folks working on this know that too. I just came too late to really make a difference, and this is fanfiction, so it's not the largest horrible deal if we make a few mistakes, now is it? I should hope not. I'm sorry if this is a really annoying point for you, but I think it's too late in the story and would just make things worse to fix it now.

Yesh, I know that, and I'm pretty sure at least some of the other folks working on this know that too. I just came too late to really make a difference, and this is fanfiction, so it's not the largest horrible deal if we make a few mistakes, now is it? I should hope not. I'm sorry if this is a really annoying point for you, but I think it's too late in the story and would just make things worse to fix it now.

I understand that it cannot be fixed now. I was just pointing out some mistakes that I figured nobody had thought of. Personally, I think that it would be cool that if when the story was over, we reposted the whole thing from start to finish minus all the coments so that people could read the whole thing with out skipping around the compents.

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An hour later, Emery had desided the two sister's couldn't work together. Sheena worked too fast, said Namiir. Sheena thought that Namiir worked too slow. The Lioness thought that if they couldn't work together, then one of them would have to leave, which she voiced. What she didn't voice was that she hoped it was Sheena. Destryoing things she could handle. Necromancery she couldn't.

It took nearly a week of coaching, negotiating, and arguing before the city was completely demolished. Namiir struggled to get through each day; she was learning how to use her gift the hard way—through sheer experience. Alanna had to create a sleeping elixir to help the young girl sleep, the screams of the recently saved echoed in her nightmares.

Emery did his best to act as a mediator for the two sisters. He was still bound by blood to escort Namiir to Corus; he was stuck by her side until then. Emery took the night watch at their encampment, and he couldn’t avoid seeing Namiir struggle through her dreams. One night, she shuddered and grimaced through a particularly bad nightmare, and Emery couldn’t watch any longer. He shook her awake gently.

She blinked and gazed up at him, relaxing visibly. He tried to give her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand gently. She soon went back to sleep, but didn’t release his hand.

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As the last building toppled, all four mages gave a sigh of relief. Alanna wiped her brow and grinned at the sisters. “Now, that was impressive. I assume you’ll all want to come back to Corus now, so the Voice can thank you in person.”

Sheena shook her head. “With all due respect Lioness, I have to return home. My tribe needs their apprentice back. Kesaa is not as young as he once was…and I have more apologies to make.”

Alanna nodded gravely. The girl had learned from her experience. The Lioness turned her gaze to the other two. “I suppose you’d like to return home as well?” She asked Namiir. “They'd be idiots not to take you back now.”

Namiir blushed. “I’ll be going with you to Corus. It’ll cost Emery his life if I don’t.” She shot a shy glance at the Scanran wild mage. Alanna consciously stopped herself from growling. A Scanran and a necromancer should not be allowed to travel together alone; but it was against her principles to let Sheena go home without an escort. Grudgingly, the Lioness admitted to herself that both Emery and Namiir had proven their mettle, but that didn’t change what they were. ‘You are what you’re made to be.’

Emery saw the wariness in the older knight’s face and he looked away. She still didn’t trust him. Is this what he had to look forward to? A life of suspicion and fear? His every oath questioned and his every move suspect? Alanna said she would escort Sheena back to the Blue eyed Snake tribe, and that Emery should escort Namiir to Corus. But the champion clearly wasn’t happy about it.

***************************************

The next morning, the quartet parted ways; and soon Namiir, Emery, Tarub and Hakon were on their own again. The horses were giddy and relieved to be leaving the location of the black city, but the rider’s hearts were heavy. Namiir was still recovering from all the horrors she experienced, and Emery was imagining how quickly she was going to slip out of his life.

There’d be young men in Corus, lots of handsome rouges, gentlemen, knights—all of whom would be Tortallian—and NOT labeled as child-killers. They’d be captivated by her grace and strength, her wide eyes and warm skin; and by the time they reached the city, she’d be a hero. She destroyed an evil that was centuries old, she had stood toe-to-toe with Chaos herself. Emery could imagine how men would flock to her like moths to a flame. Tortallians always loved a strong woman…and so did he. But once the oath was fulfilled, Emery would have no excuse to stick around. He still had Weiryn’s quest.

Namiir noticed Emery’s somber mood and she struggled to interpret it. Perhaps he was homesick; surely he had better things to do than act as her babysitter. Maybe he had a sweetheart at home—Namiir stiffened at the thought. She had grown used to him over the last few weeks, with his blustering pride and gentle manner; would Tarub miss him as well? Namiir doubted she could afford to give her mare so many apples with her nonexistent fortune. Emery was probably engaged to a woman of his class, someone quiet and ladylike, who would never call him a fool or accuse him of being less than human.

Finally, she could no longer stand the silence…

********************************************

Okay, someone else jump in.

Long time no hear, TabbyPirate. Yes, this means that my mom's computer works again *angels singing in the background* here goes.
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"So," Namiir started, hating herself as she did it, "what are your plans once we get to Corus. I mean, it's not like you have to stick around or anything. I can take care of my self." Boy,I really messed that one up. Now it sounds like I want him to leave. But do I? I don't know. It's all so confusing!!!
"I'm not sure," stated Emery. "I have never been to Corus, so it could be interesting. Although, I might not want to tell people where I am from. Maybe I should say that I am from the Doi clan." He whatched as she grinned, then grinned along side her.

Glad to have you back. I hope this story picks up again, I've missed it. I suppose this means I should be getting back to Kel and Dom. doo diddle le doot de doo! (I have the oddest tune stuck in my head).

Yes, you do have the oddest tune stuck in your head.:7 Oh, and WRITE MORE ABOUT DOM & KEL!!! IF I DIE FROM SUPSENSE AND ANNOUNCE FROM YOU NOT WRITING FASTER, I SHALL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN, AND I SHALL SUE YOU!!! Have a nice day.:7 :7 :7

Tune is gone, Dom and Kel are updated, here's some more about Namiir

**********************************************

Eight months ago, Emery would never have considered denying his heritage, but life in Tortall, life with Namiir, had taught him something. Sheena’s pride had nearly killed them all; and Emery was not willing to risk Hakon’s, Namiir’s or Tarub’s lives to satisfy his patriotism.

The horses ambled through Corus’s main gates, and the traveler’s senses were assaulted with the best and worst of the city. Emery filtered in the sensations slowly, the noises were organized first. Women with children, shopping, to his left; merchants up ahead yelled their offers; guards on patrol were located ahead on the right, unaware that a sworn enemy had entered their ranks. As Emery wavered in his decision to move forward, Hakon walked on and snorted, “You’re dead anyway, if you don’t do this.”

Emery sighed and took in the rest of the city’s qualities and faults.

***********************************************

They found an inn and stabled an exhausted Tarub and Hakon. The head hostler had wild magic in him, although Hakon was unimpressed. “Not enough fire to talk sensibly, poor two legger.” The stallion explained.

It was mid-afternoon, and the human pair decided to take the opportunity to explore the city. They’d barely walked a stone’s throw when Emery grabbed the hands of an offending pickpocket. The lad was barely ten years old, and he looked fearfully up at the much larger knight.

“I’se sorry. Jus try’n t’make a livin’ no harm, eh?” The little weasel was trying to talk his way out of it.

Namiir placed a hand on Emery’s arm. “Let him go, it’s not worth it to take him to the guards.” She glanced meaningfully at Emery’s blond hair.

The pickpocket’s eyes lightened. “Not the on right side of Crown law either, are ye, miss?” The boy asked slyly.

“We haven’t been here long enough to choose sides.” She told him curtly. “But we were sent here by the Lioness.”

The boy tried to shrink away, and after a moment, Emery released him. “City folk.” The Scanran knight muttered darkly, as the boy disappeared into the crowd. “I need a meal, and a very watered ale.”

The nearest place was a charming little establishment called “The Dancing Dove.”

****************************************

By the time Emery got his drink, he’d noticed enough concealed weapons to realize it was no ordinary pub. His senses went on high alert, and he moved cautiously back to the table where Namiir sat waiting. “Drink this, and we’re leaving.” He ordered, taking a big sip. Namiir was desert raised, she might have been a Shang-like fighter, but if anyone tried to pick a fight—

“Preparing to leave after only a drink?” A wicked looking man with oiled hair and rotting teeth had overheard Emery’s comment. “The home court of the Rogue too good for the likes of ye?” The eavesdropper turned and addressed the crowd at large, “From the looks of the cove, I’d reckon his mother was a Scanran witch.”

A muscle in Emery’s temple twitched. Now was not the time for honor. “I’m a Doi clansman by birth. We are traveling on business.” Emery stated calmly, careful not to blink.

“Aye, a blond Doi wanderer with a sword?” The interloped questioned. A few customers shared suspicious glares at the lying-- and well-muscled--foreigner. The man continued, “An what else ‘ave we here? A Bazhir without her veil? Shame.” He hung his head in mock sadness, reaching over to trace a dirty, boney finger across Namiir’s soft cheek. The desert girl raised one eyebrow mockingly before rising, twisting the man’s arm behind his back and slamming him into the table.

“Just because you can look, does not mean you can touch.” She said venomously. Emery scooted out of the way as the table moved forward from the momentum. He gave Namiir an appreciative glance; that was a very fluid maneuver. Then he noticed every one else’s reaction. A broad shouldered Gallean stood and hefted a short club, while a lean woman at the bar casually pulled out one of her knives. At least a half dozen others, all armed, moved toward Namiir, who quickly released the man; and the slime scrambled to rejoin his friends. Everyone not involved in the fight mysteriously disappeared from the tavern.


The two travelers backed up against the closest wall; Emery drew his sword, and Namiir picked up a chair. “Do you find it ironic that I managed to fulfill the blood oath, only to watch us get killed not a half day after?”

“We’re not dead yet.” Namiir replied grimly. With a yell, she set about attacking the crowd. Emery took a deep breath, and joined her battle cry.

*******************************************

A black eye, a split lip, and a bruised ankle later, Emery sat in the back of Provost’s mobile cage, with a slightly, worse-for-the-wear Namiir next to him. She had a cut on her leg (not too deep) a mottled bruise growing on her cheek, but otherwise she seemed fine. The duo had made it out of the bar, only to be arrested by guards once they made it out the door. The officers said the travelers were guilty of disturbing the peace and picking a bar fight. “In the Dancing Dove, no less.” One of the men muttered. “We might as well arrest you just to keep you alive.” The guards took Emery’s sword, his boot-knife, as well as the knife at his belt. Namiir’s weapons were her hands, and the guards couldn’t take those away without a trial first.

As they were jostled through the streets, Emery gave Namiir a forlorn glance. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.” He said regretfully. For all he’d promised himself to keep a low profile, here they were, headed to Lord Provost’s kennel.

Carefully, so as not to reopen her cut, Namiir moved across the cart to sit next to him. “I don’t blame you. I made the first move, didn’t I?” She reached over and took Emery’s hand. “It’s my nature. I made the first move and asked for the Shang horse to teach me to fight, and now…” She released his hand and brought her face up towards Emery, checking to make sure this was okay. Their friendship had gotten off to a rough start, to say the least, but over the past several days, she’d come to realize she wanted more than companionship. There was no more confusion. She accepted who he was, Scanran, and all. And she cared about him. Deeply.

Slowly, he wrapped and arm around her back and pulled her a few inches closer, making sure they were on the same page. She’d proven herself damnably difficult to predict in the past. But that was the past. Now…

The cart screeched to a halt, nearly throwing the pair to front of the cage. Recovering, Emery and Namiir stood and gathered their remaining wits. They were shuffled off to separate cages.

Emery’s cellmate was a familiar little pickpocket who promptly asked, “Oy, you choose a side already?” The muscle in Emery’s temple twitched again.

I *gasps* can't stop *gasps again* laughing!! *erupts into full-blown laughter*

Nice update! I love the "Oy" boy asking about sides...
:P
Sorry I'm not updating...it's fun to see how y'all are taking this story to something completely different than what I imagined when I started...;)

Yeah, well *gasps* I am still, *gasps yet again* laughing!!! *erupts into chaotic laughter*

Someone update, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!! pretty please with sugar, carmel, chocolate, whipped cream, peanut butter, strawberries, blackberries, rasberries, hot fudge, and a cherry on top.

(I'm not sure all those ingredients should be mixed but...you get the point)

WELL... since you be so nicely. Although, please keep the blackberries, raspberries, and carmel off. Wait, just give me a dilly-bar or blue raspberry slushie=} That shall work quite nicely. Plus, if I die from the pain of blood being drawn, I shall die happy *hears heavenly music and walks torwards "The Light"* Well, it is Sunday, after all.

Alanna wasn’t too happy. All she asked, ALL she asked was for a nice Scanran knight to escort the pretty, young, talented, and gifted in necromancy Bazhir mage to Corus. It was all she asked. Moreover, what did they do? Why, end up in prison! OK, maybe it was too much to ask, she admitted grudgingly to herself. Nevertheless, COME ON!! They could both take care of themselves, and Emery was a knight for heaven’s sake! She had thought better of them.


When the Time of the Voice came around, Namiir had let Jonathon know what was going on. After conferring with his council, Jon had decided to let the couple enjoy the prisons’ hospitality until Alanna came home. Knowing how happy she would be about this, he had conveniently left for a quick visit to the Summer Palace when she was still two days away. George was in the capital. Let HIM cool the Lioness’s anger. This quick visit might take longer than he had first planned, depending upon whether Alanna wanted to run him through was her sword, or how Darkmoon trample him when she arrived in Corus.
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Tomorrow I shall write more for Trickster's Exile. My stomach hurts right now, so I'm not writing much for Namiir el-Akmai of the Blue-Eyed Snake.

Having some trouble choosing a signature up there? Anyway, here's an update:

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Emery sat in the cell, focusing on the sound of his breath. It was the only thing that proved he was alive—and not in a convenient hell. The boy, Mik, wasn’t the problem, but nearly everything else was. It didn’t take the guards long to figure out his Scanran heritage, and it took his fellow inmates even less time.

Three days, four fights he did nothing to provoke. It didn’t help that he was separated from Namiir, and that she was having her own troubles. The pigeons tried to work with Emery to relay messages, but the desert girl was having an adverse reaction to the birds. She kept shooing them out of her cell, and never let them stay long enough to deliver anything. The birds were stupid, and while they were easy enough to control, Emery had a hard time keeping them focused. Sparrows would have been nice, but the only other option Emery had were the crows. Unfortunately, the knight had nothing to barter with. Even crows ate better food than prison rations.

Emery sighed and nursed the bruise on his knuckles. The healers around here were all suspiciously busy.

“Oy, Scanran, you taking yer last breath over there?” Mik was too small to be involved in any of the fights, but he still hadn’t been released yet. In some ways, Mik reminded Emery of his youngest brother at home. The young pickpocket’s presence, while exasperating, had also become routine.

“I’m still alive enough to need that bread, Tortallan.” Emery motioned to his stale supper.

Mik let out a disappointed sound and settled down in his own corner.

*************************************

Namiir felt as if she were going insane. She was hearing voices again, and they were coming from BIRDS! She wasn’t a wild mage, and if she was, she’d still doubt pigeons would talk like the dead. Namiir did her best to keep the resident flock away from her cell, but they kept invading, as if someone were sending them specifically to her. She bit back a growl of frustration and prayed Tarub and Hakon were okay.

***************************************

George had an eye for horseflesh, and when he saw the prisoners’ animals, he strongly wished he hadn’t gone straight. Back in the day, he never would’ve balked from stealing this beauty; a huge, night black stallion whose eyes glittered with intelligence and spirit. His withers were some of the strongest George had ever seen, and his legs looked equally powerful. The mare was a prize too. She was definitely a Bazhir breed, and could undoubtedly run faster than some birds could fly.

The former king of thieves approached his charges with caution. The stallion eyed him rebelliously, and the mare stretched out her neck for a sniff.

“Easy, yer lordship, we’re on the same side.” George’s voice was a soothing whisper. Nevertheless, the horse’s head darted out and his teeth click loudly. If George’s reflexes had been any slower…

The Baron straightened, calling up his old royal airs. “Now look here, flea bag, it’s either me or a crew of hostlers with whips and other nasty bits o’ tethers. At least I promise to play fair.”

Hakon snorted. The man was honest enough. He wasn’t an Emery, but Hakon had a sinking feeling about his friend. The knight had never left him alone for so long. Hakon let out a questioning whinny, still unsure.

“I’m not stealing ye, though gods know, a few decades ago I might have been foolish enough ta try. I’ll be taking care of ye until Emery gets out of the mess he’s in. Crashing around the Dancing Dove, the little mite.” George had gotten close enough to slip a halter over the stallion’s cheek. “Easy my boy, you’ll see your master soon enough.”

Once the stallion had been talked down, the mare was quick to follow. George led the horses back to the palace stables, where Stephan greeted him with wide eyes.

“Kyprith’s beard, George, tell me where you found him, and you can HAVE my ears, and arms and legs too.” Stephen’s voice was breathy with amazement.

“Stop slobbering, you’re head hostler, not head of the kennels. And it’s bad luck to call a trickster, particularly THAT one. Moreover, these horses aren’t mine; they belong to a Scanran and a Bazhir who are busy taking advantage of Provset’s hospitality down in the lower city.”

Stephan frowned. “Then why aren’t these two up for grabs?” His hands fluttered over the mare, giving her a quick inspection.

“Special circumstance.” George replied, as he led mare to a stall. Stephan took the stallion’s halter and reverently traced a hand over its broad shoulders.

“Someday, I’ll be buying you a round of the crown’s finest, and I expect to hear about this ‘special circumstance.’” Stephan muttered.

***********************************

After discovering horses like that, George found himself driven to meet the owners of such fine beasts. He found himself in the cobbled streets of the lower city; amicably arguing with the Sergeant of the Jane Street kennel. Alice was a formidable woman; and her father had run the kennel while George was running the Rogue. Now there’s an unpleasant thought George said to himself. I don’t have time to be getting this old.

“Really, Baron Cooper, the King’s orders were clear.” Alice toyed with her baton casually, but her hazel eyes were far from friendly. She remembered George, all right.

“Really, Sergeant,” George returned, “all I want to do is meet them; my wife is the one who sent them here—well, to the city. I’m holding their horses, as per the kings orders you hold so dear. I’ll be needing to ask them a few questions regarding said horses if I’m to care for them properly. Now, where did you hide the terrible twosome?” His face shone with earnest, and Alice responded by rolling her eyes in annoyance. Gathering every inch of her five foot and eleven inch frame together, she propelled her muscular form toward the girl’s cell. George followed intently.

The first prisoner, a Bazhir girl, looked defiantly up at her captors, in some ways reminding George of the stallion. No taming this one either.

He leaned on the bars. “I see you’ve discovered the wilder side of our lovely city.” The girl titled her head, trying to gauge her vistor. She stood and approached him.

“Who are you, what do you want?” Her tone was direct, but weary. George’s gut told him he was playing on her last nerve. Suddenly, an onslaught of pigeons invaded her cell, pouring in through the windows, landing anywhere they could along the floor, and on the poor girl. She lurched forward against the bars, grabbing George’s wrist desperately. “Get me out of here!” She pleaded. The voices were coming again; a large white pigeon had claimed her attention.

George, we’ve got problems on the border again. More trouble. I’m shocked I was able to make it back to Corus alive. George? I miss the simpler days…whisper man. The ghost voice seemed to laugh bitterly. You always had such high aspirations for yourself…don’t get cocky, George, the war isn’t over yet.

“Dorsey.” George’s voice was hoarse. “Dammit man, you’re…alive isn't the right word…” George looked into Namiir’s unfocused eyes.

“Please tell him, he’ll go away—to the divine realms, once he realizes what happened.” Namiir had a death grip on George's wrist.

George inhaled sharply and did his best to explain the situation to his agent.

bought the farm, did I? And I didn’t even notice. The voice seemed to ponder the fact. I guess that makes me pretty useless around here. So long then Cooper, I hope they have ale on the other side.” Dorsey’s presence winked out.

The former Rogue’s breathing was ragged, and so was Namiir’s. “Now do you realize what it’s like for me living here?” She demanded, her voice catching. “They’re all like that. Well, not all are murder victims…but they’re all dead, they’re all talking to me like I’m supposed to help.”

George tore himself away, trying to deal with the death of his friend, the information he’d caught the barest piece of, and the young woman in front of him, pleading for help. If only she knew…

**********************************

Emery was getting desperate. He took off his father’s ring, a priceless family heirloom, and the only shiny thing he had access to. What about this? He asked wearily to the head crow.

There was a flutter of wings as the leader considered. There’s only enough for one nest. It grumbled.

I only need one person’s help—for an extended period of time, mind you. I’m not parting with it lightly. Not at all. Shame was piercing though Emery like a lance. But to hold onto the ring was to give up Namiir.

Deal. The crow snapped, plucking away the gem.


*************************************************

I got the link off the site. I don't think that they have it set up right... Anyways, I opened up my email and found a poem in it by a girl dealing with cancer, and six mounths to live. I will add an attachement so you guys can read it. I love it...... Once Trickster's Exile is down, I have a nother What Could Have Happened in mind.

Hi this is the new user vllygrl39. I really like everyone's story!I hope somebody will write again soon because reading is kind of like an addiction with me. Once I start reading something I like, I can't seem to stop!Keep up the good work everyone! I don't like people to read what I write or else I would do it myself. :D

Hello, and welcome to sheroesfans!! If you ever have a question, you can always ask me. I end up being on here multipul times a day. Oh, and check out Trickster's Exile.

'ello again, vllygrl39. I see you quickly overcame your fears of sharing your work, wonderful job (I already anticpate more of Geena's story, please don't be scared away by my scrutiny)

Feel free to add to this story too, I always love updates here. A variety of voices makes this one of the most unpredictable pieces on the site.

On the outside, George looked calm. However, on the inside, a war raged. Alanna hadn’t been too specific on what Namiir’s power was. Now he almost wished that he had left Corus before Jon did. Almost.

George could remember, as a little boy, listening to his mother tell stories about their famous ancestress. Beka Cooper. Beka had been able to talk to the spirits that road on the Black God’s messengers: pigeons. But, somehow or another, the power that was ONLY in the Cooper family had died out. So how did this not so promising looking sprite have it? As far as he knew….. Wait. Beka had a brother named Will. Before slavery in Tortal had ended, one of Will’s daughters had been stolen off the streets. She had never been found, but everyone had simply assumed that she was taken by the slave traders and sold at an illegal auction. If a Bazhir had bought her, then, Namiir could be related to him and all of his kin…..

Turning to Alice, he had to ask. “How big of a bribe would it take for me to give you before you would release her into my custody?”

Alice looked at him with a glare that could have peeled paint. "More than you could give me Cooper. Now go away," she said, every word dripping with disdain.

"Make an offer and there is a good chance I won't refuse," he said with his most crooked smile on.

"Fifteen gold nobles and no less. The girl is fine where she is and she deserves better than you company, I'm sure." she watched just waiting for him to refuse.

"Done," George handed her the money. Alice looked it over in her hands, obviously expecting counterfeit. She gave him one last look of distrust before cautiously opening the door to the cage.

Namiir leaped out of the door and threw her arms around George. She was blinking back tears when she let go.

"Thank you, sir. I don't what it is you wish of me but I will do what you ask. To a certain extent.." she trailed off looking him over suspiciously.

"No, deary, nothing like that. I just want to talk to you. Come out side and we'll have ourselves a little chat," he said leading the way out the door.

Once outside he looked the girl over. She didn't look like any Cooper he'd ever met but then he'd never met a Bazhir Cooper either.

"What's your name?" he asked her watching her wide eyes look him over in turn.

"I am Namiir el-Akmai, formerly of the Blue-eyed Snake tribe. Who are you?" she asked.

"I am George Cooper and I was just wondering if you had any ancestors that had been northerners." he said politely.

" My great-great-great-great grandfather was a northerner. My family does not talk of him much, though. Why do you ask, sir?" she said even more politely than George.

"I ask because I had an ancestress,Beka Cooper, who had that same power you do. She could also hear the spirits that the pigeons carried on their backs. I was told though that my family was the only family to ever have this power. Beka's brother was sold in a slave auction. I was wondering if perhaps he was sold into slavery in your tribe."

"It is quite possible. I was told that there was a speck of disgrace that started our family. It could have been that my great-great-great-great grandmother was with a slave. I'm not certain, though. It wasn't something we talked about. Either way though I am glad we met George Cooper. I can't thank you enough for freeing me," she said.

"It couldn't have been that bad surely." he said raising his eyebrows at the tan girl.

"It was all of those awful pigeons. they just kept coming and asking me....." right then a huge crow landed on Namiir's shoulder.The giant crow began to pull on Namiir's clothes and hair. Apparently it was trying to lead her somewhere. Then Namiir remembered Emery. She knew he could talk to horses but maybe he could talk to birds as well. She had to go and find him anyway.

"We have to go free Emery!" she said said trying to pull free of the crow. "I believe he's worried about me."

"We can at least go reassure your friend I guess." he said watching amusedly as the girl struggled with the bird.

"Lead the way," she said turning back to the crow. The crow let go and began to fly very low to the ground in and easterly direction.

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I hope this is all right guys.

Me likey..... But it wasn't her brother. It was her brothers daughter (A.K.A. her niece) But whatever. If memory serves me correctly, I think it is Tabby's turn to update since we both did today. I updated Trickster's Exile, again. If I get back on tonight and foundout someone replied to it, I shall probley write more. PYL!

Yes! Yes! Updates!

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Emery folded his legs beneath him and sat down in the corner of the cell. He closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he reached down into his gift and drew it about him like a shield. It had been so long since he’d mediated, the copper strands of fire inside him had become unruly. Carefully, gently, he soothed them back into place. He couldn’t afford to lose control.

Something pecked his ear—sharply—and Emery jerked out of his trance. The crow from earlier eyed him beadily. Got her. The bird said smugly. Emery looked up.

Across the room, on the other side of the bars, Namiir stood. Her hands were clasped around the bars as if she intended to bend them; her face was an odd mixture of relief and confusion. Quickly, the Scanran knight closed the distance between them and…hesitatingly, he reached for her hand. His sore knuckles protested loudly as she grasped them back. He ignored them.

“Looks like you’re all right.” Emery said lightly. Then he noticed her companion. A well dressed, middle-aged man with a crooked nose and bright green eyes. He was physically fit, and there were some telltale gray hairs that said he’d had been through tough times. He was wealthy, probably a noble of some kind—but why was he down in the city slums, springing a young bazhir girl from jail? Emery could only think of one reason. His fingers tightened around Namiir’s protectively.

“So you’re the young Scanran knight my wife has been complaining about?” The man asked. His voice was measured, precise, but it held an edge of wry humor.

Slowly, the stranger’s words sunk in. His wife. Complaining about Emery… That could only be one person. Emery looked over the man again. This was the Lioness’s husband?

“I’m sorry; you seem to have me at a disadvantage.” Emery said tersely. No reason to think the Lioness’s husband would be any friendlier than She was.

“In more ways than one, I’d imagine.” George eyed the cage Emery was stuck in. “Call me George; I’m the Baron of Pirates Swoop. I might also be your ticket out of here.” George turned back to Alice.

The Sergeant had her arms folded across her chest and her gaze was flat. “No. I will not release a Scanran Knight in this city. This isn’t about money George, it’s about principle.”

“Which you were all too willing to ignore when it was the Bazhir girl I wanted freed.” George replied easily. But he knew that look. Pure, unreasoning hatred. Alice was not going to let this prisoner go. Her idea of principle was a thinly veiled predjudice.

George sighed and touched Namiir’s shoulder. “We should leave.” He said quietly.

She looked at him, and her gaze was fraught with conflicting desires. She didn’t want to leave her friend; that much was clear. But, if she stayed, she was giving up freedom in exchange for pigeon talk and imprisonment. George wanted to shake his head with disappointment. Young people. They just didn’t see all the options.

“Come on.” He nudged her again. “Your horse is very anxious to see you.”

“Go, Namiir. Someone has to explain everything to Hakon. I’ll be okay.” Emery’s grin was solid; and George could tell it was also utterly false. The boy was going to get killed in here. Child-killer was a bad label, even for a criminal. George noted the boy’s bruises. Many were recent, and all were untreated.

Namiir’s eyed flicked between the two men, still considering. “Go.” Emery urged again.

The desert girl turned and pinned Alice with a hard stare. “This isn’t over.” Namiir’s voice was dangerously soft. She let George lead her back to the palace, but the whole time her mind played with plans. Plans to get Emery out of that cage.

*******************

She briefly stopped plotting to check in on the horses. Although she wasn’t a wildmage, she still talked Hakon through everything that had happened since their separation. The big horse gazed at her steadily, as if he understood every word. Tarub leaned in, butting her mistress reproachfully. Namiir offered her mare an apple as an apology.

George sat in his palace office, thinking. His long lost relative had a defiant streak that seemed inherent in their family tree. She wasn’t going to let Emery stay in that kennel. George rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t just THAT Scanran he was worried about. Dorsey had died uncovering information about another plot brewing over the border. Thankfully, with Namiir’s inadvertent help; George had gotten a whiff of the trouble. However, as the country’s spymaster, a whiff wasn’t enough. He needed to send a new agent over the border, and he had a good idea who.

Sighing, he called to mind his list of men who specialized in re-capture missions. As clever and capable as Namiir was, she wasn't the Rogue. She didn’t know the prisons like George and his friends did.

It was a good thing Jon wasn’t home…

Is it just me, or does anyone else have a feeling in their stomache that says Tabby is up to something? I might only have time to update TE tonight. I have ot make atleats 55+ no-bake cookies for band tomorrow.

Sorry, guys. I'm not getting much of a vibe from this story today. I did type a little, though.


At one candle mark past midnight, Namiir had decided. To the Bazhir, it was the darkest hour of the night, so, it should be easy to sneak out of the palace and into the city. Unfortunately, this George was a little smarter than she was. However, not by much.

She had exited her room to find three guards outside her door. They had “escorted” her to what looked like a library, were George was sitting, reading a book. He had asked what she was up to, but when he got no reply, she and her escort headed somewhere in a city. It appeared to be a nobleman’s townhouse. A maid took her up to another room, where she had surprisingly fallen asleep quickly. Now it was morning.

Across a table filled with al kinds of breakfast things, was a shaggy haired and robed man. Upon meeting, he had told her to simply call him “Myles.” He had also informed her that she was to stay here until Alanna returned.

Oh yeah, of course I'm plotting, it's just what I do, despicable grammar freak/ fanfic tease that I am. But I can't control this story, I can only write segments. Like this one:

*************************************

“I can’t stay here.” Namiir informed her host. “I have things to do—

“And people to free?” Myles asked calmly. “You must have gotten the wrong impression of our George; he’s not going to let your friend waste away in that kennel. We have a need for a man of Emery’s…talents.”

“You’re going to break him out so you can blackmail him into your service? Sounds like another kind of imprisonment to me.” Namiir crossed her arms and glared at the old scholar.

Myles eye were kind, but firm. “We will not force him to do anything. Once we share the limited information we have, I’m sure he’ll want to help us. If not, we ship him home anyway, to get him out of our hair.”

He can’t go home. Namiir thought. He has a quest to fulfill, and I’ve already pushed him far away from his destiny. She felt terrible. First, she got him in trouble with the Bloody Hawk. Then, she dragged him across the desert to face Chaos. Next, she got him arrested in Corus. Soon, he’d be coerced into working for George, and Gods knew what that would be like. She buried her head in her hands and blinked back tears of guilt.

Myles eyed her with concern. “You’ve been through quite a lot these past few days; I suggest you take this opportunity to get some rest.” His tone changed, and became almost apologetic as he added, “oh, and I’m sorry dear, but George has insisted that you stay here. He has spells, men…this room has held far more dangerous subjects than you. For your sake, just try to enjoy our hospitality.”

He turned to leave. As he ambled towards the door, his gaze fell on the old manuscript George had brought in earlier. The book had to be at least a hundred years old. A diary really, an old journal a lower city guard had kept. Myles turned back to his young guest. “George recommended you read this. The girl who wrote it is one of your ancestors; she had the same gift as you.”

Namiir said nothing, just glowered at him. Once he was gone, however, she reached out a trembling hand and pulled the book toward her.

**************************************

Namiir read through the book as quickly as she could. Her father had taught her to read Common, but she struggled to understand Bekah Cooper’s handwriting. Moreover, some of the language Bekah used was completely foreign to the Bazhir girl. Jinglenob, scummer, tosspot, scut, mumper, cuddy—these words were all new to Namiir; but she quickly added them to her vocabulary. She wanted to have plenty to say to George next time she saw him.

It was nighttime again. Namiir lit a candle and continued to read. Before she knew, what was happening, her eyes began to droop, and she dozed off.

Hello! I'm still not feeling any insperation with this story too much. Sorry, guys. I think I shall just let you guys have a go with it for a while. Oh, and I am going to not be able to update on here from May 8th till May 12. I shall be in Washington D.C. during that time on a class trip. I don't really want to go because I have already been there, but my parents are forcing me to. I have a goal of finishing TE by the time I leave. Let's see if I can make it.....

Anybody else prepared to offer an update? *pokes around hopefully*

Nope, sorry =}

I beg again...ANYONE out there to write an update? I feel like everyone has left the forum...tell me, who's still out there watching? (Besides me and esculver, I mean.) :P

Nobody was on yeturday, and you are the first person today. PLEASE update Dom & Kel!!!!! I'll check who is online real quick and let you know who is, if anyone.

Just us={

Had a brainstorm while I was "working" on my homework.....


Waking with a start, Namiir could have sworn that she heard something. She strained her ears. There. It sounded like something climbing up the stairs. Frowning, she pulled out a dagger, and started to open the door. A blade came crashing down. Luckily, Namiir had had her dagger raised incase of an attack. Suddenly, all the torches in the hallway lit up.

“Oh. It’s only you,” the Lioness said. “Wait a minute! What are you doing in this house?”

“I could ask you the same!” Namiir retorted.

“Sir Myles is my father. I’m the heir to Olua. You never answered my question.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like it.”

“Leave her alone, Alanna,” Myles said, stepping into the hallway. “There’s no need to take out the fact that your fur’s wet on her. I’ll explain everything in the study. That way, Namiir can get her sleep.”

“You need it too, don’t act like you don’t. You’re getting old, for Mithros sake! I’ll just ask Jon…..”

Myles sighed as Alanna stomped down the stairs. “She’ll never learn. Then, she’ll be mad at me when she finds out Jon’s not in the palace…..” He disappeared back into the room he had just exited.

I oversimplified this, but...

******************************

Greenspan, Quick, and Olli followed George through the dark city streets. Taking on the dogs was serious work. They’d only agreed to help because no one refused the Whisper man.

They made it to Jane Street, and Greenspan sent a small stream of emerald fire, which cloaked the guards like a smothering blanket. The dogs on watch were put under an enchanted sleep. George gave several, silent hand signals. Quick and Olli jumped forward, moving the guards out of sight, then stepping in to take the Dogs’ place. Greenspan and George moved into the prison.

It was a full moon, and ghostly light trickled through the high windows the cells, illuminating much more than George would have liked. Greenspan had to take out three more guards before they found their target.

Emery sat, hunched in a corner, arms wrapped defensively across his legs. An unconscious Tortallan lay across the cell, a suspicious bump protruding from the back of his head. The Scanran had gotten into another fight.

George fell on the locks, picking through them in seconds. It took a little coaxing to get around the magic, but still, he was done in record time. The cell creaked open, and Emery eyed the pair cagily.

George extended one hand, while raising the other to his lips. Comprehension, followed by confusion, flitted across Emery’s face. The Lioness’s husband was breaking him out of jail; why?

He was hustled out of the cell and taken far away from Jane street. Finally, they stopped at a quaint sort of townhouse. George led the way, while his companions melted back into the streets; they’d done their part and were ready to go back to sleep. Emery ached all over; he had a mottled bruise growing across his right side from where his latest cellmate had gotten in a lucky kick.

Baron Copper knocked smartly on the door, only to leap back when his wife appeared in the doorway. The Lioness looked less than pleased.

I would be less than pleased also.....

***************
"Wow," Emery was still in shock as he sat in the library with the man called Myles. He had gotten over George rescuing him-now that he'd seen him for over a day, it seemed completely obvious that it would happen. But he was still shaking from the Lioness' fury.

"My daughter can have that effect sometimes," Myles was smiling.

"You adopted her?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Emery was too shocked to be polite. Besides, Myles had a special air of someone who appreciated bluntness more than anything else.

The old knight laughed. "Exactly."

A maid came in with trays of food. Emery ate hungrily at Myles' gesture. Once the maid had left, he said, "Why'd she yell at me?"

"Ah, because you frightened her. She was sent to bring you to Corrus and she comes back to find you imprisoned."

"Not anymore!"

"Even worse-a runaway. But do not worry yourself. The Lioness' temper is infamous, but between George and I, we can calm her down. Never try to tame her, though. She's a Lioness." He had a twinkle in his eye.

"Where is Namiir?"

"Namiir has a knife to your throat," said a voice behind him.

He yelped and she quickly moved the knife. "I was just testing," she complained when she got glares from both men. She turned to Emery. "Your instincts are slow. A good knight would notice when I came entered the room."

"But Myles should have seen you-"

"I did. I just decided to let Namiir play her little game. Now the two of you should be in bed, you've had quite a night. Besides, George will bring the Lioness home from their little `walk' and I'm sure the two of you would love to see that. Might I add, George loves infuriating his wife."

The two fled.

********

OK, Tabby. Pay up. Now we have two posts, and one isn't yours=} By the way, I love this update!

Nice try, but I already gave you the D&S update. Here's more Namiir:

*************************

Alanna followed her husband down the street. She was fuming, the way only the Lioness could. “George Cooper, you had no right—

“I had no choice, lass.” George explained urgently, “The girl was going fair mad in there. Pigeons carry the souls of the dead; and the foul birds kept bombarding her. And you didn’t see Alice. She would’ve let Emery get killed in there. All she saw was his Scanran heritage, but she decided that was reason enough to let him die.”

Alana flushed. As George talked about Alice, his tone was harsh, angry, frustrated. It annoyed him to see someone so limited by prejudice. The former Rogue had been pushed around once or twice in his life, by people who looked at him and saw only a lower city cove. There were still those in court who took cheap shots at his lineage. He empathized with the boy, and Alanna felt vaguely ashamed.

The silence stretched while Alanna’s anger was rapidly replaced by guilt. Finally, George let out a long breath; and his shoulders slumped.

Alanna blinked in surprise. Momentarily, she forgot about everything else as she stepped closer and drew her husband into a hesitant embrace. Usually, she was the one who needed support. To her, George was unshakeable; an unending source of confidence, support, teasing affection and love. But today, something had him visibly shaken.

He held her tight, willing himself to stay in control. “I lost Dorise last week.” He whispered.

The Lioness tensed. For security reasons, she knew very little about her husband’s agents. But she did know that Dorise was one of their Scanran agents. They couldn’t discuss this in the street.

She gave him one more squeeze and then stepped away. “Let’s go home,” she offered, I’ll even let you sleep in the bed tonight.” (As opposed to his office, where he was normally banished when the Lioness lost her temper).

George smiled weakly. “Sleep?” He repeated.

The Lioness growled and shoved him playfully. “That depends on how good your answers are.” She was relieved to see a part of him come back—even if it was the uncouth lower city cove that she’d fallen in love with.

***************

Namiir began to set up a place for Emery in the library. With Myles help, she had turned the couch into a makeshift bed, complete with thick blankets and fluffed pillows.

Emery quirked an eyebrow when he took in the sight. He’d gotten used to seeing Namiir as a wild, hell raising desert dweller; and somehow, he’d never pictured her in such a… domestic setting. He tucked away a smile. The next thing he knew, she’d probably throw on a dress and some of those ridiculous little paints noble women used to “enhance” their features.

She brushed past him, unaware of the scenarios playing in his mind’s eye. She pushed some of blankets out of the way to make room for him to sit. Emery sat slowly, trying not to bump any of his bruises. Now that he was in a safe place, his adrenaline receded and his injuries were reporting themselves in full force. He hissed softly as his stomach contracted and the bruise burned. He wanted so badly to lie down and sleep…

Namiir watched as he sank into the couch and passed out. And she’d thought her time in the kennels was rough. He was going to need a healer.

She grunted as she struggled to rearrange him on the couch; the knight had to be about two hundred pounds. She tucked a blanket around him and went off to find Myles.

I love your writing! You have such great ideas..I especially liked the paragraph:

"Alanna blinked in surprise. Momentarily, she forgot about everything else as she stepped closer and drew her husband into a hesitant embrace. Usually, she was the one who needed support. To her, George was unshakeable; an unending source of confidence, support, teasing affection and love. But today, something had him visibly shaken."

******************

Emery blinked. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep.

It was much too hot in the room. He walked over to the large windows of the library and, after some struggle and cursing his weak state, opened them. He yelped.

"Oy!" said the boy cheerfully, climbing in. "Have you got any room for me?"

"What?!"

"I saw two runaways having quite a time here, and I figured, why not?" the boy said reasonably.

"What?!"

"I said-"

"How'd you get here?!"

"Followed you. You're no good at creeping, by the way, especially when you try."

"What's going on?" Namiir peeked through the door and then opened it.

"Oy, 'tis the Scanran Knight's princess, I see!"

*

"You didn't have to knock him out," Emery said reproachfully.

"I'm no knight's princess, and he knows it," Namiir said flatly.

"Yes, but a slap would have been enough."

"I found this more...efficiant ."

"Yes, but now we have another mouth to feed," the Lioness complained.

"See? He'll be better off than he started," the Bazhir girl said cheerfully.

The Lioness fumed, hands on hips. At last, she said, "You have to teach me that kick."

Namiir blushed. "It takes some practise..." she mumbled.

The Lioness laughed. "Just like life."

I love your ideas too! Anyone who reads this message board knows I'm totally obsessed with Namiir's story.

So, what just happened? Did Namiir seriously just conk little Mic on the head?! The poor child!!;(

Yes, she did. I just loved Mic's character so much, I had to get him into the picture again!

OOH!! This is getting to be very interesting..... I went to bed inbetween 10:30 and 11:00 (fell asleep while trying to finish First Test) Woke up around 7:15. Spent the last almost an hour checking my email! I'm shall post on LA later. (if I don't fall asleep at the computer.....) If you want, I can see about uploading somme pictures to show you guys. I'M HOME AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alright, sorry this is so dark, you can all lighten it up later with your own posts.

***************

Myles sat in his office, shifting through reports. The northern news was disturbing. The crown had anticipated more resistance from the Scanra tribes; but everything was quiet. “Too quiet.” An agent complained. Someone was up to something, and Myles was going mad as he tried to narrow down the possibilities. In short, he had nothing to work with.

He had no choice. Gervase’s son was their best choice for a new agent. Emery knew the land, the language, the customs, and he wouldn’t require a new identity. But knights could be so fussy about chivalry. The boy was probably going to balk and chatter on about codes and morals. To Myles, that was a noble’s way of saying they were too important for dirty work. He rose from his chair with a grunt. He could sit in his office all day and imagine how the conversation might go, or he could get up and get it over with.

*************

Hakon nearly broke down the door to the stall when he saw Emery. Where HAVE you been? The warhorse demanded. Emery ran his fingers through his tangled hair and sighed gloomily.

“Nowhere that I wanted to be. It is time to go home, my friend. Tortall is not for the likes of me. Weiryn will have to choose someone else.” He’d had enough of this country; where women were equal but Scanrans were not. Where Bazhir girls looked scornfully at a full-blooded knights, and progressive Champions were as close minded as their conservative counterparts. He was exhausted, tired of fighting everyone he met; he wanted to go home.

Hakon butted his friend gently. You’re too young to be so pessimistic. We can go home, if that’s what you want. But…are you truly ready to give up? After how far we’ve come?

“How far we’ve come!?” Emery spluttered. “You mean, to the Gods cursed desert and back! Through ancient cities ruled by Chaos to modern slums, prisons and cages! Hakon, I’ve had enough. I’m going home where I can be of help, and not everyone’s obstacle.”

For a moment, he’d thought Namiir appreciated his aid. They were becoming friends, maybe more than that, but then she cooled. She was back to her cat and mouse games, sneaking up on him, sticking a knife to his throat, questioning his abilities as a knight. He had better things to do than be the object of everyone’s scorn.

Someone was in the doorway, blocking the light. Emery turned to see Myles, calmly inspecting his fingernails. “Going home so quickly?” the older man asked innocently.

“If you’ll let me.” Emery’s voice was ice cold. He stared at Myles, waiting for a challenge.

“I have no intention of stopping you. However, I do have a favor to ask of you, before you leave…

*********************

An unknown location in Scanra:

Jakob, son of Maggur, sat in his tent and stared down blankly at a map. He had memorized it long ago; his thoughts were elsewhere. He had marked each point where Tortallan troops numbered over a hundred. They were becoming a presence in his country; something his father would never allow. Jakob would be strong, he would continue on his father’s path to unite the clans and extend Scanra’s boundaries. He would swallow Tortall and make it a province in his empire.

King Maggur had been so close. His armies had been well into Tortall territory when their most valuable tools had been taken away. The killing devices had ceased to work when Blayce was killed. If Jakob stood a chance of winning the war, he needed a new necromancer.

For now, he was on the run, assisted only by his mages and most loyal soldiers. They kept on the move, needing to stay hidden from the enemy. Some of the clans remembered their loyalty to Maggur, and were willing to honor it by giving aid to his heir; the rest would pay later. Jakob smiled grimly. He and the mages had work to do.

Oh!! The dark side of Tabby=}

Jakob surveyed the three mages before him like a general serveying his army. The first was tall and pale. He had a face that was constantly worried. Jakob smiled. He liked to keep it that way.

The second mage was a female in her late twenties, with a stubborn look and a challenging gaze. He would have to work on that. It was no good, having a mage with such stubbornness.

The third was a short little man that reached just above Jakob's knees. His face did not show any emotion at all.

"Are you quite sure?" the young warlord said sharply.

"Yes, your Majesty," the female-Hersayan was her name, spoke for the three of them. "Tortall seems to have their own necromancer. I have never seen nor heard of such a strong one."

"Does Tortall know of her tallent?"

"Yes, but they do not put it to use," said the shortest, Sinselik.

"Ah. Typical of the Tortallans," Jakob snorted. "They treat their mages like deer, waiting patiently for them to approach in their hesitant ways, instead of putting them to use at once, as is needed."

"Yes, Majesty. Mages are not deer," Hersayan replied.

"Well, if Tortall won't put her to use, we shall!" Jakob declared.

***********

There. I updated. Happy? Now someone DO something!

.....

Note to self: Don't write fanfiction when stressed, 'cause this is the result...

*************

Hakon shifted uneasily. The sooner we get home, the better. He snorted. The forests of Scanra were not the same. Since the war, the trees had been ravaged by both sides; the ground was littered with blackened pine. The border was a wasteland. The People had been scared off by the killing devices and had yet to return. There was no life here. The big warhorse chomped his bit angrily. Humans were an arrogant lot.

Emery nodded absently. He was still troubled by Myles’ information. The Scanran people never gave up so easily. Perhaps Lord Gervase would have the answer—if he was willing to talk to his errant son. Emery winced as he thought of the lecture awaiting him.

Namiir and Tarub plodded forward, their eyes opened wide. Even the desert was more alive than this. Namiir repressed a shiver. Why had she come? Because George asked her to. If there were any wandering souls, she would be able to talk to them, to ask questions. And Emery could use the help. She studied his profile discreetly. There was a tense set to his shoulders; his brow was furrowed. He looked like a tragic, brooding hero from a ballad. She blinked and shook her head. No, she was being silly.

There were live trees on the horizon; those specks of green were a welcome sight.

“My father’s house is on the other side of those trees.” Emery explained. “This is our land too, but not many people travel through here nowadays.” He finished bitterly.

Namiir nodded in silence. They stopped for a short rest and watered the horses. Tarub nuzzled her mistress reassuringly, and horse spit covered Namiir’s shirt. The desert girl shrieked playfully and batted at the mare. Tarub danced away and snapped her teeth. She shouldered Hakon, who reared mock-angrily as he pawed the air. The girls watched his antics and Tarub snorted; she refused to be impressed.

Emery stood a little ways off; his eyes were on the tree line. There was no place like home…

*************

They reached Gervase’s house the next morning. The sun was up, and it beat down on the travelers. Emery was sweating by the time they reached the gates.

Even the manor had been changed during the war. The outer walls had been reinforced, and sentries stood watch on the tower. The gates were locked, and Emery waited for someone to answer his call. Frans’ blue eyes peered through the slot in the door, and his gaze brightened when he saw Emery.

“Sir Emery. Things have been mighty boring around here without you---HO! THE LOT OF YOU LAZY BUMPKINS LET DOWN THE GATES! THE YOUNG MASTER’S COME HOME!”

Emery tucked away a smile. Frans was a balding, stocky fellow, with rust colored hair and a quick mind. He jumped from conversation to conversation without transition and he expected everyone to keep up. He was the family’s steward, and utterly devoted to running the fief.

There was a loud thud as the gate dropped. Hakon strode through proudly, while Tarub carried herself with Bazhir grace. Once they were inside, Emery dismounted and looked around. People had lost weight, their shabby clothes hung loose. He frowned, when did things get this bad?

“Missed you, ‘e has.” Frans whispered. He was talking about Emery’s father. “Won’t admit it, being the Gervase that he is.” Emery’s family was known for its stubborn pride.

“What happened, Frans? It wasn’t this bad when I left.”

“Oh aye, but it was getting there. Last season, Magggur wanted his tithe, and he took it. Then Tortall comes in, expecting parties and gifts ‘cause they went through all the trouble to save us,” Frans spat on the ground. “It’s expensive, supporting both sides. Who’s she?” He jerked a thumb back at Namiir, who stood warily next to Tarub. She didn’t speak Scanran, and she had no idea what was happening.

“She’s a friend. Her name is Namiir, formerly of the Blue-Eyed Snake tribe.” Emery didn’t add that she was a necromancer. His people couldn’t handle that right now.

Frans stroked his goatee thoughtfully. He gave his master a sidelong glance. “Bazhir? With all due respect, Sir, do you enjoy vexing your father? You know whom he expects you to marry, and he won’t appreciate you bringing your conquests home.”

A scowl settled over Emery’s features. “Namiir is NOT that kind of friend. She’s an equal, a Chieftain’s daughter and warrior in her own right.”

Frans put on his ‘yes master’ face and held his tongue. Emery motioned for Namiir to follow, and Frans escorted them to the main hall. Emery nodded to each solider he passed. Many he knew by name, but there were several unfamiliar faces. He also noted the faces that were missing.

Igor Gervase lounged regally in his hall. The hard times had done nothing to diminish his presence. When standing, he was a full six feet, five inches tall, and his frame was well proportioned. He wore his silvering hair long and tied back in a horsetail. He had won many tournaments in his youth; he had a reputation for being as cunning as he was strong. He was a proud man, with very little margin for tenderness. Emery bowed respectfully and Namiir mimicked the gesture.

Lord Gervase’s eyes raked over his son. “Do you return a prodigal or a prodigy?” He rumbled.

“Neither, my lord. I return to you the same as I left.” Emery met his father’s eyes, willing himself not to cower like a guilty pup.

Gervase’s eyes narrowed. “Then you learned nothing in all your months of travel. What a pity.”

Namiir glanced back and forth between father and son. She didn’t understand the conversation, but Emery was bristling and she could feel the distain radiating off Lord Gervase. She felt a twinge of sympathy for her friend.

“Milord, allow me to introduce Namiir formerlyoftheBlueeyedSnake.” Frans stepped forward, trying to break the tension. He said the title all as one word, and Emery rolled his eyes.

Gervase gave Namiir a quick appraisal. “Why did you bring her?” He asked sharply.

Emery shrugged. “It is a long story. But I’ll need to speak with you privately.”

Gervase nodded curtly and Frans gestured for Namiir to follow him. “Come with this humbled servant, if please you it does.” He said, in thickly accented Common. Namiir needed a moment to decipher his words, but then she followed without a word.

Emery and Igor watched each other, looking for signs of weakness. “What was so terrible that you decided to return to your place?” Igor asked quietly.

“I only left because I thought the Gods wanted me to.” Emery held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Father, I stood against Chaos and survived. I fought alongside the Lioness and spent a week in Corus’s jail. Before coming home, I met the Whisper-man. Myles sent me home, with an assignment from the Tortall crown. They said there is unrest here, something is happening below the surface, that all is not as tranquil as it seems.”

“You came because Tortall ordered you to?” Lord Gervase’s voice was dangerously soft.

“I came because I wanted to help.”

“It is too late.” Igor’s face was stone. “Hedda never came home. Lars no longer speaks. And Nikclaus…he fought well. Wanted to be like his big brother.” Lord Gervase’s hands were clenched, his eyes were laden with pain. But he had no more tears. “When we turned against Maggur, it came with a price. Two of my children are dead. My youngest has not enough wit left to speak. And now, after the war, my eldest stands before me, ready to offer help.”

Emery stepped back, sick. Little Hedda, with bright green eyes and a sprightly step, dead. And Nikclaus, gangly and hotheaded, almost ready to be a squire. “I didn’t know.” His voice was hoarse. Why hadn’t Weiryn said anything? Why did Emery waste months in Tortall on a false quest when his family was being slaughtered? Emery cursed the Hunt god.

“I’m sorry.” Emery looked bleakly up at his father. “I was misled.”

Igor re-gathered himself, straightening his posture and rolling his shoulders. “The past is the past.” He said briskly. “You have retuned to re-claim your responsibilities. Lady Mia of Spearhead fief will come of age next month.”

Emery reeled at how quickly his father had recovered. Then Emery’s own thoughts darted to Mia; the sharp, bossy little noblegirl, very pretty, and very short sighted. During his years as a squire, he’d endured many a ball with her and her friends. Back then, she had flirted outrageously with his year-mate, Jakob. If half the rumors were true, Mia had matured long before her coming-of-age day.

“Fine.” Emery held his chin up. “If that would make you happy.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the main hall. He jogged past Namiir and Frans, to the stables where Hakon munched on some fresh grains.

The smell was sweet and cloying, Emery choked. Hakon looked up, concerned. What happened? The stallion’s question was atypically gentle.

Hedda…Nikclaus… Emery couldn’t form the thought. He buried his head in the stallions’ shoulder. Silent tears ran down his face.

Good point. The length is nice, though. Sounds like Emery is in one of those "sucks-to-be-you" moments that we all go through and hate.

Thanks. So....can anyone update?

What you mean is, "Can you update ecsluver?" We are the only regulars on here={ And, I might. My own computer has been fixed, so I can get on more often. But, it only had notepad. No Microsoft Word. Gonna try, though. Lady Alanna was updated.....

I hope this story isn't over. Anyone care to update?

If I update regularly will you not quit Sheroes?

YAY! Someone was asking about Namiir. HERE SHE IS!!!

Update anyone????

Ok. I'm not a great writer but here goes...
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Namiir struggled to understand Frans' tale of what had happened while Emery was off in the desert.

"And so Maggur took his tithe and the Tortallans took what they felt they deserved. But the worst was the news that Master Hedda and Master Nikclaus were dead. It almost destroyed the old master especcially since the young master wasn't here to help any and Master Lars don't speak no more."

Namiir didn't understand how the Tortallans would take omething from thses people who were already brought low by Maggur.
"The Tortallans did some of this damage? How could they? They're supposed to be good. And Maggur has been dead for some time. Who is taxing you now?"

Frans shivered but not with cold. "That would be Jakob who was Maggur's son. If the throne was to be inheirited, Jakob would sit on it. He too holds aspirations to expand the country. I say people have had enough, they're mostly to poor and tired to fight."

"And how did you become so knowledgable?" Namiir queried

"Ah well...um... There was a meeting and an open window but I wasn't eavesdropping. I had to...um...chop wood...yeah that's it near the window."

Oh, thought Namiir. A curious fellow are you. Well just maybe you could help.

"Frans have you ever considered working for a cause of ..." Namiir's voice faltered to a halt as a large rock flew over the gate and fell on a haystack.

That was really good. You've a good grasp of medieval poltics, and I always love humor.

I wish I could update, but homework has me in a headlock.

I also like where you left it, btw. Cliffhangers are terrible fun.

Thank you for the encouragement. I've never written much anything else before.

I really wasn't sure where you were going with the rock thing, since you never said anything about size, so...if this was the wrong direction, let me know and I'll edit the post.

******************

The rock was barely larger than a dog. But as soon as it landed, Frans grabbed Namiir and dragged her toward the stables.

“Raiders.” He explained quickly.

The stablemaster slid open a door to reveal a large cache of weapons. A young stable boy lifted a horn to his lips and the sharp notes rang through the courtyard. People looked up from their business and scurried to line up in efficient rows. Spears, shields, swords, bows and arrows were distributed in record time.

Emery emerged from Hakon’s stall. The knight’s eyes were bleary and wet. Namiir had no time to ask. She handed him a set of chain mail before she sprinted off to Tarub. The mare snorted anxiously and pawed her stall. Namiir swung the door open and jumped onto her horse.

A volley of arrows followed the rock. Men and women dodged and ducked for cover. Namiir and Tarub wound up next to Frans against the inner wall. “Damn longbows.” Frans grunted.

“What sort of hit-and-run fighters carry catapults?” Namiir asked.

“We’re about to find out.” He answered grimly. His gaze shot up toward the sentry posts—both were unoccupied. “Mayhap they’ve got mages too.” He muttered.

‘Why would mages and well-equipped fighters attack a place so obviously poor?’ Namiir wondered.

Emery and Hakon galloped out of the stable and through the gates. Emery waved his sword like a flag, and the people fanned out behind him. Namiir estimated they had about thirty fighters…if that’s what you could call the half-starved villagers. Namiir and Tarub stuck to the outskirts of the crowd, careful not to tread on the feet of their allies.

The enemy waited on the other side. There were a half-dozen mounted fighters, a dozen archers and a score of footmen. The mounted men were hulking brutes; their horses were nasty creatures with thick muscles and wild-eyes. Five arms men worked the catapult.

Oddly, the fighters waited close to the tree line, across the open field. They were at the south edge of the land. The catapult was in front of the party, just close enough to reach over the walls of the castle.

Even the footmen had leather jerkins; their weapons were polished and cared for. The villagers swarmed toward the footmen, as per tradition. Only mounted men fought mounted men. The archers had thrown down their bows and resorted to close-arms. As the groups met, there was a cacophony of yells. Metal met metal, the shouts changed abruptly to grunts of concentration.

At the back of the crowd, Namiir gripped her spear tightly; she had no shield. She saw Hakon and Emery gallop toward the mounted fighters, and her chest tightened. He was going to get himself killed. She spurred Tarub around the crowd. The mare’s neck strained as she pushed herself to catch up with Hakon.

The mounted men formed a half circle to enclose on Emery. Namiir screamed a challenge, and one man broke off to deal with her.

Tarub hurtled toward the mounted man. It appeared as though she was going to pass on his left side, as if it were a joust. The man settled his sword and waited. Then, at the last second, Tarub swerved and ran past his right. Namiir’s spear scraped against his chain mail, but failed to slice through.

Tarub did not circle back, but continued toward Emery.

Hakon reared and his forelegs struck the head of another mount. The animal backed away and tried to flee; its rider struggled to regain control. It seemed Emery was able to affect two of the other horses; the beasts threw their riders and galloped away. The thrown men rose quickly and scrambled to recover their weapons.

Trumpets sounded, and the enemy looked up in near-perfect unison. At the top of the north rise, several hundred yards away, there stood a new force. A red flag waved and flapped in the wind, its view was partially blocked by the man mounted in front of it.

The man raised his hand and dropped it sharply. At this signal, a full troop of professional soldiers streamed down the hillside in formation. Before they even reached the fray, the raiders had begun to retreat. The villagers didn't bother to chase their opponents, but instead turned to help the wounded. The raiders disapeared into the forest.

The mounted men grabbed their fallen comrades and galloped off, leaving Namiir and Emery to glance worriedly at the approaching fighters. “And I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” Emery muttered.

The soldiers marched down toward the battlefield. The villagers held their weapons casually, but their eyes were wary.

The commander’s horse pranced toward Emery. A muscle in Emery’s neck twitched. He might have been bowing his head; he might have been hiding a scowl.

“Jakob. What…fortuitous timing.” Emery said blandly.

Namiir studied their rescuer. He was lean and blond, his gray-green eyes rested on her with a startling intensity. Namiir did her best to bow in the saddle. “Milord.” She said politely. “Thank you for helping us.”

Jakob’s sharp white teeth flashed in a winning smile. “The job comes with the territory, sweet lady. I don’t believe we’ve met…”

“Namiir.” She finished for him.

His grin widened. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I'm going to post this even though there has only been one post between this and my last. And tabby, I like how the rock was small. Sometimes the smallest things make more of an impact than the grand. So here goes again:
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Jakob had decided to stay Gervase for the night. The villagers and family scurried around trying to create the expected grand meal out of their meager stores. At dinner words were carefully chosen and even more delicatly said.

"So milord, what has brought you to this remote region?" asked Lord Gervase with a hint of disinterest in his voice.

Jakob replied with a careless shrug. "Oh a little of this, a little of that. More importantly, when did your son and this lovely lady arrive back in Gervase?"

"We rode in yesterday." Emery replied before his father could speak."Namiir doesn't come from here. She is a Bazhir from the desert."

"Oh she is, is she. I have always heard that the Bazhir have a very peculiar type of magic." Jakob leaned forward with a gleam in his eye.

"Well I don't know about that milord. Some Bazhir are Gifted just like some Scrancans are Gifted." Namiir spoke cautiously, afraid of giving any thing away that could help Jakob on his quest for domination.

Jakob distantly felt that continuing the subject would not help his goals, although he didn't know why. He changed the subject.

"Well I suppose I should offer my congratulations to you and your lovely bride."

Namiir looked confused, Lord Gervase's eyes sparked with anger, and Emery had an expression of utter exasperstion on his face.

"Not at all milord," Igor interrupted "My son and that.." there was a brief almost non existant pause before Igor continued "woman are not attached in any way. He will be marrying Lady Mia of Spearhead."

A glower rose over Emery's face as he heard his father's pause and Igor's commendment of marriage. However, Emery knew how stubborn Lord Gervase was and didn't want to push the issue in front of Namiir.

"Well in that case I would like to inquire as to Lady Namiir's plans and wonder if she might like to travel to the capital. I have heard great things about the Bazhir's magic. They even seem to have a connection with the desert. I'm positive that this is just the thing to help Scanra and her...troubles" Jakob paused before choosing his last word with careful precision.

Namiir's hackles would have rose if she had any as it was she thought to herself, 'I don't trust this man, not one bit. His tone is a little too sincere, too smooth, too courtier like.' She thought the word courtier with disgust. 'I don't want to go. How do I say no, what do I...'

Her musings broke off at the sound of Emery's frigid tone.

"I think milord that Namiir ought to stay here as she has just arrived and is unaccustomed to Scanra. Besides, I do in fact have attachments toward this woman." Emery spate the word back at his father.

Dinner deterioated quickly after this. All returned to their rooms

At about two in the morning Frans woke up. He thought he had heard a muffled cry. He attributed it to a wolf and rolled back to sleep.(NOTE: Rolling back to sleep is a practice that involves rolling off the bed and down the hall.)

In the morning, Jakob and his men departed. The whole keep was there to see their saviors off. As the last horse cantered out of the gate, Emery saw a long package drapped over a packhorse.

That evening, at camp, Jakob strolled over to the packhorse and opened the bag.

"Hello miss dinner is waiting for you."
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Sorry it's so boring but I wanted to feel my way atound a bit more.

Thanks and sorry again
-RivaRat

It's OK if you post when there is only one between your last and your newest. If that makes sense. I don't post on these. I was for awhile, but then I divoled writer's block and said good-bye to Namiir.

Tabby, do you sense a little bit of WCHH: Trickster's Exile in here? =}

huh? I have no idea what WCHH stands for. Forgive the ignorance of this most unworthy one. Lol, I feel silly today. For goodness sakes, escluver, jump over your writer's block and come back.

I liked RiverRat's update. There are a few spelling errors, but I'm probably the only one who notices.

*Tip: I usually type everything on Microsoft word first. Then I copy and paste my writing into the message box here.

ok I gonna try writing a little bit if no one minds!
warning this may get a little pg 13 hope no one minds, but tammy has things like this in her books so I figure its ok

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Namiir had felt the horse carrying her stop and had been waiting for someone to come and deal with her.
Hands lifted her off the horse and put her on the ground, the bag was opened and Jakob’s face hovered
"Hello miss dinner is waiting for you."
Namiir didn’t answer but shot out of the bag like a wildcat.
“How dare you kidnap me you vile creature! I could kill you!”
Her hands found his neck and her momentum caused them both to fall to the ground. But a second after that she lost her advantage. He was much stronger than she was and her rolled them both so that he now had her pinned to the ground.
“Well now killing me would come easily to you since that’s your gift.”
Namiir stopped struggling and stared up at him her face turning white.
Jakob raised his eyebrows at her, “What did I surprise you? Believe me I know a lot more about you than you think I do.” He took her hands the pinned them to the ground above her head. “Now the only question is will you listen and do what you’re told?”
Namiir glared up at him, rage rampaging throughout her whole body. She spat in his face, “Never you piece of dung.”
Jakob wiped the spit off his face and his face turned red in anger, Namiir could see madness in his eyes. ‘Oh boy’ she thought ‘I’ve gone and pissed off a crazy person. A smart move as usual’
A crazy grin spread over Jakob’s face, “You will when I’m done with you. Don’t worry I will greatly enjoy breaking you.” Before she could react he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. Except when Namiir thought about it later it was more like he was punching her with his mouth rather than kissing her.

Jakob left the little whore before he did something rash. He hadn’t expected his new pet mage to be such a beauty. ‘Hmm guess I’m just lucky.’ He ordered his men to magically bind her powers, and then had her expertly tied up and left in his tent, gagged of course. He had thought to let her yell and tire herself out at first but as her insults only made him loose his temper he had to have her gagged. He looked forward to dealing with her after his meeting with her mages.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emery could kill himself. ‘How could I not notice that Namiir was gone till late afternoon! I saw the way Jakob was looking at her, and what he wants, he’s always gotten!’
Emery had spent the day reacquainting himself with his home, much had changed in his absence. He caught up with the old guards, and met the new ones. He visited the graves of his sister and brother and apologized for being gone. He fought tears as he went to check on Hakon. He arrived at the stable and was surprised to find Tarub in a state of panic. “Hey beautiful whats wrong?” She kept pacing her stall and tossing her head as she answered. Namiir hasn’t been to see me all day and I can’t sense her anywhere! Neither can Hakon!” She whinnied wildly and charged at her stall door. Realization hit Emery like a kick in the gut. ‘I should have known he was up to no good!’
“Jakob took her! Tarub calm down for five minutes, let me go get some supplies and we’ll follow him. I know his habbits he’ll stop to camp tonight giving us a chance to catch up.”
Five minutes later as promised Emery was mounted up on Hakon galloping away with Tarub running along beside them.
‘Well I guess I was bound to travel to the capital at some point.’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Namiir glowered at Jakob as he walked into his tent. He grinned smugly as he loomed over her letting his eyes roam freely over her figure. Namiir let her disgust show on her face.
“You know I figured out why you Bazhir force your women to wear veils. If I was surrounded by faces like yours all day I wouldn’t be able to control myself.” Jakob knelt down and ran his hand over her side. Namiir struggled against her bonds, and yelled into her gag.
“Don’t worry this will hurt.” His eyes were crazed and she could tell there was no sanity left in him. ‘Great alone with a crazy person, could this get any worse?’
Jakob leaned back and started to take off his clothes, Namiir’s eyes widen in shock, ‘I had to ask didn’t I?’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emery was surprised at how fast they reached the edge of Jakobs camp. Now all he needed was a distraction and Hakon had the perfect idea. “Talk to all their horses and explain that you need them to go crazy and run amok through the camp.”
Emery closed his eyes and sent his magic out to the horses. They were agreeable once he told them about his situation and ready to help once he could get them free. Suddenly Emery sensed someone next to him. He turned and swore when he saw one of Jakobs mages.
She smiled, “No don’t worry I’m here to help you. My name is Kiesha.”
Emery still didn’t’ trust her, “Un huh and why exactly would you be helping me?”
She frowned, “I am a little too opinionated for Jakob, and he has expressed his displeasure with me a few times and I’m not exactly eager to have it happen again. I will help you free your lover, if you will allow me to escape with you.”
Emery ground his teeth in frustration, “Will people get this right she is not my lover! We’re just friends!”
Kiesha just stared at him, “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and if you’re not lovers now well it’s bound to happen sometime. But enough of your love life, we have to save Namiir for you to even have one.”
“Well you’re right about saving her but wrong about this whole lover idea.”
Kiesha stopped him before he got going, “We don’t have time to argue we have to move now. You wait here and talk to the horses, since I’m not suspicious I will go free the horses. Tell the horses to wait until I free them all and walk away before they flee.
“Then I will cast a confusion net over the camp causing everyone to run around like chickens with their heads cut off, giving you a chance to run in get Namiir get back here and then we’ll flee.”
Emery just stared at her.
“What!”
“How did you just come up with all that?”
“I’m good with planning.” She explained, “Let’s go.”

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ok so I hope everyone likes it
my internet stopped working and I was paranoid someone else was going to write something and all the work I did was going to be for nothing! but luckly I did get to post this

*sticks tongue out at Tabby* WCHH is 'What Could Have Happened'

Very interesting. It's different, which can be good.

Grr.

Jacob slowly peeled off his shirt. Namiir averted her eyes and sent silent prayers to any god who might be listening. Her fingers frantically searched for a weak spot in the ropes.

Namiir heard a horse’s shrill cries across the camp. Gradually, all the camp’s horses began to stir. Namiir heard their calls and their stomping hooves; soon the noise of the camp soldiers joined the confusion.

She risked a look back at Jacob. He had paused to stare at the back wall of the tent. His eye narrowed and his lips thinned as he tried to guess what was wrong. “Fool.” He muttered. Jacob glanced down at his captive. “Your knight in bruised armor should have stayed put. I will wipe out his family for this…stunt.” His smile was cruel.

He picked up his shirt and tossed it back over his head. “Now, don’t go anywhere.” He drawled. He disappeared.

888888888888888888

It turned out that Keisha had a talent for illusions. Emery slipped among the soldiers and no one paid him a second glance. By contrast, the men jumped out of Keisha’s way. Emery shot the mage a questioning glance.

“I have a way with people.” She quipped dryly.

The horses freed themselves and started to wreak havoc. Emery was proud of each one of them. The knight’s sharp eyes caught sight of Jacob as the prince left a small tent. Emery tasted bile in the back of his throat. A thousand dangerous thoughts crept across his mind. If that scum had dared—

Emery found himself running toward the tent before he’d made the decision to do so. Keisha puffed behind him. “Chivalrous idiot! If you don’t stay next to me, the illusion fades.” She panted. Emery barely heard her.

He slipped through the tent flap and found Namiir waiting inside. She mumbled something inarticulate through the gag, and Emery reached down to remove the cloth.
“Emery! You idiot—

“That opinion has already been voiced.” Emery cut in. “Now hold still.” His slipped a dagger through the ropes holding her.

Namiir rotated her arms and gingerly bent her wrists. The pain was a dull ache, but she would recover. She looked up at her rescuer. Emery’s dark eyes were plainly concerned, he watched her carefully, ready to assist any way she needed. Her mouth formed into a trembling smile. “Since you’re here already…” She murmured.

Then she noticed the mage. “You!” Namiir’s hands balled into fists. “Even without my gift—
“She’s on our side.” Emery cut in. “She’s helping us. C’mon, Jacob knows about my gifts, it won’t be long before—

They had barely stepped outside when someone blocked their path.

“Permit me a little credit, Gervase. After all, I am my father’s son.” Jacob stood with his arms crossed, a smirk graced his cheeks. Behind him, a full squad of soldiers waited.

Emery dropped his weapon and fumed silently. Keisha obediently stepped in place behind her lord, her brow furrowed with worry.

“I’ll deal with your insubordination later.” Jacob growled over his shoulder.

A stray horse barreled toward the party. The soldiers broke formation when they saw the enormous animal ready to trample them. Hakon reared and kicked down the two men closest. Jacob stumbled backward and landed on his arse in the dirt. He shouted instructions to his men, struggling to make his voice carry over Hakon’s defiant cries.

Emery grabbed Namiir by the waist and lifted her on to Hakon’s back. He motioned for Keisha to follow, and she gracefully leapt onto the stallions back. “Run, Hakon!” Emery yelled. The horse thundered off into the night.

***************

Author's note: I'm leaving it this way on purpose so someone else can decide what happens next. Maybe Emery is captured, maybe he escapes, maybe Namiir does something to save him, or maybe something completely different happens. I don't know.

Jakob cursed as he saw them escaping.
“Go after them!” He yelled as he pulled men to their feet, furious with them for breaking formation.
Men were scrambling to their feet, pushing at one another to get the advantage. Jakob grabbed two of he men by the shirt, pulling them up and pushing them forward.
“Bring them back. “ He snapped as he grabbed up two more men. “I WANT HER!!!”
Turning back towards his tent he snapped at one of the mages “Get those horses under control and get the men ready. We leave immediately.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keisha chanced a glanced behind them. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding; no one had managed a serious pursuit. Keisha pushed her red hair out of her face and looked ahead. She didn’t know where she was going, but she was sure that were ever it was it would be better than the place she had just fled. She could feel her muscles loosen.
‘Oh no,’ she thought madly at herself, ‘we’re not out of this yet.’
She tightened her grip on Namiir, the last thing she wanted was to fall off.
“You won’t fall. Hakon won’t let you.” Namiir snapped.
Keisha’s brows furrowed together, “You would?” She asked surprised.
Namiir shrugged “I might.”
Keisha smiled, well at least she new where she stood with the Bazhir.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jakob's dark brown eyes scanned the horizon, scrutinizing every inch. He had been angry before, this was beyond that, it was pure rage. He ran his fingers though is short blond hair, he had had her. Jakob clinched his fist.
‘Those fools,’ Jakob thought glaring at his men. They would pay for letting her get way.
He frowned, he would wait. ‘Just let them think I’ve forgiven them.’

(Well I hope that was an alright addition. I feel it wasn’t to bad for my first post. :D )

Definetly not bad! Welcome to SheroesFans, by the way! I sent you a PM earlier. The person that posted last before you, is our own, personaly, grammar-nazi Tabby! Welcome!

I liked it; I liked the grammar too.

Just one question: where does Emery stand in all this?

I suppose the next story teller will have to answer that.

Well done lady, well done.

and you, escluver...*sigh*...I don't know what I'll do with you.

Thank you. I didn't quite know how to fit him in. I know he's on Hakon, maybe he's to busy focusing to do anything else. Well maybe.
Constructive criticism is something I live for. It will make you better writer if you take it and use it.
Now it's some one elses turn. I think I'm hooked.

and you, escluver...*sigh*...I don't know what I'll do with
you.

Now, now, Tabby. It's more like what you'ld do without me. And if it's not, you would sit there and patiently list all of my grammar mistakes, and your questions and grumble about cliffhangers that I used 'cause you used one first. Don't frown=} You know it's true.... =}=}=}

Thank you. I love her book and when I found out about a web group for her books I had to join. Sorry, but I'm not sure what a PM is or where to get it. I think that's great to have a grammar-nazi around. It's one area I'm trying to perfect. Thanks again for the welcome.

That was close, to close. Namiir thought as they road into the sunrise. She hadn't slept the night before and now that her adrenalin was going down she was starting to feel how tired she really was. They couldn't stop yet, not so close to Jakob and his men. If only Hakon wasn't being weighed down by an extra body, why had Emery said the mage could come? As Emery passed through her thoughts she realised suddenly that he was missing. She pulled the Hakons reins hard making the stallion rear. Namiir smiled to her self as Keisha yelped and tightened her grip around Namiir to keep from falling.
"What do you think you're doing?!?" Keisha yelled infuriated with the bazhir and her lack of courtesy.
Irritated again with the mage Namiir roled her eyes and said "Emery is missing," as she scaned the way the had just left hoping to see him lagging behind she thought to her self, I'd hate to go back and have to rescue him. Just as she was getting ready to push her horse forward she saw Emery come riding over the ridge with Jakob's horse men behind him. Before she had any second thoughts she turned Hakon around and started him into a trot as she waited impatiently for Emery to get get closer to them. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Emery a few yards behind her and Jakob's men right behind him.
"Hold on!" Namiir yelled at Keisha.
Keisha tightened her grip praying to the Goddess that they would get out of this alive.

wow...umm...so, are people still out there? Guess we've all been kinda busy lately.

8888888

Namiir noticed something odd amongst the trees. Brush swayed against the wind, leaves rustled without apparent reason. Her heart pounded in her chest. Men poured out of the forest, silent as the night. Their faces were smeared with dirt; their bodies were barely visible in the darkness. If the men wore clothes, the material blended seamlessly into the wild. If it were not for the men’s glittering eyes, Namiir might not have seen them even then.

Her horse snorted nervously, Keisha clutched Namiir’s middle even tighter. Namiir’s every sense seemed momentarily heightened. Her eyes met the man’s closest; they shared a message she couldn’t translate.

Emery’s new horse reached Hakon’s side, and Namiir signaled for them to hold. Emery and the horse panted quietly, questioningly.

As Jakob’s men approached, the silent warriors filed out onto the road. They formed a wall between the hunters and the prey. The man-wraiths from the forest screamed unheard threats and fell upon the soldiers. It was swift, silent, and deadly. Every one of Jakob’s men collapsed onto the dusty road.

Keisha slid off Hakon and wretched. Her spluttering broke the silence that had fallen over the scene. Namiir’s eyes again met the leader of the silent warriors. He nodded almost imperceptibly and turned away. The band faded as quickly as it had appeared.

Namiir felt a sudden coldness spread from the tips of her toes to the top of her scalp. She shivered and released the breath she’d been holding.

Keisha finished wretching and looked weakly up at the Bazhir girl. “I think you’ve broken our hold over your magic.” Keisha croaked. She slid to the ground and fainted.

Emery dismounted and hurried to the mage’s side. He gently checked her pulse before lifting her into his arms. “She’s alive.” He assured Namiir. “But…what in Chaos just happened?”

Namiir rubbed her eyes wearily. “I have no idea.”

I've been here. And updated. It's just that nobody else has been here *sob*;(