"Kaeslyn - Death Stalks" by Michelle Krantz

"It’s been two days. Tylora," Kaeslyn said sadly as they walked through the orchard just outside the castle. "Still, I have no idea what to do."

"We will think of something," Tylora said confidently. Kaeslyn hoped her friend was right.

They walked in silence a few moments, listening to the strong wind whip the already bare branches. Kaeslyn sighed in exasperation. If only I wasn’t faced between choosing my life and choosing peace."

Tylora stopped in the center of the well-worn path. "You have to leave," she said seriously.

"And if I do, Asaria will immediately declare another war on Mylaren," Kaeslyn countered, but deep in her heart, she knew Tylora was right. "Mylaren’s men cannot pay that price again."

"And if you stay you know as well as I that you will be executed and they will declare war anyway," Tylora snapped. "Mylaren’s men will make do, just as they have always done. Why do you refuse to consider leaving?"

"I do not want to be responsible for another bout of the War of Kings. It has been so long since we were truly at peace," she added wistfully.

"Either way, we will be at war."

"Where do I go, then," Kaeslyn said after a silent moment.

Tylora began walking next to Kaeslyn. "Family?"

"The closest ones are a week’s journey. And Alaman is an intelligent man. He will surely look there first."

"And your mother’s family?"

Now Kaeslyn stopped. The thought had not occurred to her. She had never thought of them as family. She had never even met them.

"I am not sure they would accept me at all. I have never heard of a half-elf living among them. Even the messengers are loath to speak to me," she said, bowing her head.

"What options do you have?"

Kaeslyn sighed, but said nothing for a long time. They had nearly come full circle to where they had started.

"We will need help. The neighboring duchies can offer some support if we are attacked and may even aid us in ousting Alaman and his henchman," she supplied suddenly.

Tylora nodded. She had understood her mission. If the elves would not accept Kaeslyn for her half-blood, Tylora did not stand much of a chance.

"And look into some new horses. Ours are hardly suited to travelling the terrain we will face."

Again Tylora nodded.

"We will also need food and suitable clothing. You can gather those less noticeably than I, my Lady," she added.

"Yes, I will put them at the exit of the passages. When we do leave, they will be easy to retrieve."
"Kaeslyn," called a familiar voice. Antara rounded the corner and set her hands on her hips, shaking her head in a most displeased manner. "Kaeslyn, I have been looking everywhere for you. Your father wishes to speak to you in his study."

"Yes, Antara." Kaeslyn picked up her skirts and hurried into the castle playfully.

Kaeslyn made her way down the long castle halls finally with a plan in mind. Now she had to figure out how too stall the wedding a little.

She reached her father’s study quickly and opened the large door to find Alaman in his huge red cloak standing at his shoulder. She scowled internally, but kept her face cool and pleasant. "Sir mage," she greeted with a tiny curtsy. "You sent for me father," she said, entering the room.

Duke Solgan motioned for her and to take seats, sloshing the deep red wine in his cup onto the plush carpets. Kaeslyn pretended to take no notice. Such was a common occurrence in this room.

"The mage, here, has some interesting ideas about the wedding. We wanted to let you know of the changes we are making to the traditional wedding," he said, his speech unusually clear for the half-empty bottle of wine that sat next to his chair.

"It will not be necessary," she asserted as an idea formed in her mind. "There will not be a wedding."

Alaman’s eyes widened while her father spewed his wine about the room.

"My Lady, I do not understand," Alaman oozed hesitantly.

He slammed his glass down on the wooden armrest, sloshing more of the deep red wine onto the floor. "How dare you speak such words," he bellowed. "You insolent child, you know not what is best for you. My word is law here, and you will do my bidding!"

Kaeslyn’s own temper flared at his words. "And have myself queen of a starving country, married to a selfish child who would just as readily have me his girl-slave? I will protect the little honor you have given me! If I must, I will even wait for love, be it ten years or a hundred in coming," she finished, standing with her arms crossed beneath her chest.

"Perhaps," Alaman hissed, "Lady Kaeslyn is anxious of the wedding. Nerves can drastically alter one’s behaviors and feelings. Rest may be the best option for you, my Lady." He laid a hand on her shoulder with mock sincerity. She immediately stepped out of his reach.

"Perhaps you are right," she ceded. She knew she was nervous over things very differently from marriage. "Perhaps if you were to escort me back to my chambers…" She placed the back of her hand against her forehead.

"Of course, my Lady," he replied, affecting a gracious offer of his arm.

Her father relaxed back into his chair, grumbling.

"If you will excuse me, Duke Solgan," he said with a low bow of his head.

Her father waved his hand absently at them, continuing to grumble.

Alaman led her out into the long halls, striding tall and silent. His great cloak twice tried to envelop him, but each time it fell back as it met Kaeslyn’s back.

As they walked along in silence, Kaeslyn tried not to gag on the overwhelming sense of evil he emanated. Now that she was in such close proximity to him, she could almost pinpoint its source.

The amulet.

Her eyes instinctively went to it. The round orb supported half a dozen or so flame-like protrusions that still seemed to dance with an inner life.

"A gift," Alaman spoke suddenly. "Do you like it?"

Kaeslyn straightened, making her eyes stare straight ahead. "It is rather attractive." For an evil warding device, she added mentally.

"Perhaps one day if you chose a life of magic, you may just earn one yourself," he said with an audible sneer.

"Perhaps."

They reached her chambers soon after. She thanked him politely and wasted no time in entering afterwards.

Inside, Antara looked up from her sewing worriedly. "Little Kae, are you alright?"

"Fine," she answered half-heartedly. There was so much to think about. "Where is Tylora?"

"She’s out running errands still. What’s is wrong?" She stood, depositing her project absently on the chair.

Kaeslyn raised her hand and shook her head. "I’m alright, Antara. I just need a bit of rest." She performed a fair imitation of a yawn and headed toward the door of her sleeping chamber.

"What is all this," Antara exclaimed several hours later. "More fabric? And such rough material!"

Kaeslyn rose from her seat on the bed and went to meet Tylora. She did not recall suggesting material to her lady-in-waiting. But, it was a good cover.

She opened the chamber door to find Tylora unrolling a huge bolt of sturdy linen. "Kaeslyn does need travelling clothes for her journey to Asaria. Fine cloths and silks do not travel well, especially in such heat," she was explaining to Antara.

"You think of everything," Kaeslyn said with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"I do try," Tylora replied.

"Well, goodness," Antara exclaimed. "Let me get my measuring strings together and we’ll get to work!"

The three busied themselves with clothes making for much of the remaining day.

That evening, Tylora led Kaeslyn down the back passages to where she had hidden their supplies. Among the various supplies lay their weapons.

It had not occurred to Kaeslyn that she would need a weapon, but now she could see that Tylora had the right idea.

"The bow and quiver are mine. The staff is for you," Tylora instructed quietly.

"You know me well, dear friend," Kaeslyn replied. A mighty staff to extend what little reach she had.

They began to make their way back toward their chambers when Kaeslyn stopped, staring in the direction of her father’s study.

"Kaeslyn?" Tylora was silent for a moment. Oh no, we need to get back before we are missed. Untimely suspicion is not what we need now."

Kaeslyn looked at her and smiled deviously. "A quick peel won’t hurt."

She walked slowly and carefully down the passage, letting her elven half lead her. She walked for minutes into the darkness.

Nothing. He was not there. His room, if she remembered correctly, should also be along this same passage. A chill ran down her spine.

She turned back, knowing that he was not there. Afraid of where he might be. If anyone discovered their secret passage and stash of supplies, they might both be killed. She could not live with that.

They reached her chambers without incident. Kaeslyn breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the door to the anteroom was still closed.

Tylora released the hidden lever and the great blocks slowly and noisily swung back into place.

Kaeslyn walked slowly toward the darkness-filled window. She stood silently for a few moments, contemplating the darkness.

"All that’s left to do is leave," Kaeslyn said to no one. She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Why do you suppose they think that I am the Sha’talme?" she asked suddenly.

Tylora was silent for a long moment before answering. "You do fit the only description I have heard. And there are not many half-elves on the world."

"When elf and human join as one," Kaeslyn whispered to herself. She hit a clenched fist lightly against the stone windowsill. Slowly, she turned and walked toward the bed where Tylora sat. "I suppose it makes sense," she commented coldly. "One cannot start much lower among peers than being labeled as a half-breed. And betrothed to a prince is almost always seen as ‘destined for greatness’. But a woman? I have always envisioned the Peacebringer as a man; a strong leader of men. I am no such person."

"The gods will is many times a mystery," Tylora replied softly. "But you must admit, it does fit the clues given us. And even the stories passed through my family."

Kaeslyn quirked an eyebrow.

Tylora smiled as if embarrassed. "There has long been a legend in my family that we will be somehow connected with the Sha’talme. That is part of the reason that I was sent to you." She straightened visibly when she met Kaeslyn’s wide-eyed stare.

"Why have you never spoken of this," Kaeslyn said after a long moment.

"There has never been reason to," she defended, gaining confidence.

Kaeslyn stood, running a hand unconsciously through her pale locks. "Well, forget it. All we need to worry about right now is getting out of here alive. That is enough, in any case."

She paced back over to the window, looking out into the now deep blackness. The low hanging clouds masked the stars and muted the silvery moon’s gentle light, making it a ghostly version of its usual self. She would find no answers in its warm glow tonight.

Silence enveloped the room, both women deep in thought.

The cold wind outside seemed to penetrate the glass window itself and seep deep into Kaeslyn’s bones. A chill of fear ran along her spine. Everything was so uncertain.

Finally, Kaeslyn nodded to herself. "Another day of preparation and we will be as ready as we can be. The sooner we are gone, the less warning they will have had."

She turned to find Tylora nodding distractedly. She shook her head and stood, turning to Kaeslyn. "Goodnight, my Lady. Rest is but another supply we must stockpile." Then she left the room, silently closing the door.

Kaeslyn slowly readied herself for bed, her thoughts tumbling almost incoherently. There was so much to think about. So much to be done.

Eventually, she lay in bed, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Time passed slowly; the minutes stretching to what seemed like hours. Still, her thoughts would not stop their constant flow.

Sleep seemed almost a foreign concept. Who could sleep when the world tumbled out of control?

Cool, silvered light suddenly flooded the room. The Twilight Mistress had found her way through the clouds.

Kaeslyn sat up and faced the window, now awash in moonlight. She bowed her head, closing her eyes lightly. "Beloved Lady Goddess," she prayed. "Shed your light upon me and show me the way I must go, for I cannot see it clearly." She sat alone in the silence for several minutes, the soft moonlight bathing her.

Suddenly the moonlight disappeared. Again she was alone in the darkness.

Or was she?

Voices filtered into the room from the hall outside. They were very muffled, but she could nearly make out the words. She crept to the wall, the stones cold as she pressed her ear to them.

Two, perhaps three men spoke in the hall. An argument, though hushed. She could understand few of the words, but their voices told almost as much as their words. Something about a job, or orders. The first man was upset, while the others were trying to sway him to their side.

Early. Whatever it was, the first man thought it too soon. Not enough time had passed, or too much was left. Then the men moved farther down the hall, apparently at an agreement.

"What are they about so late this night," Kaeslyn wondered. She swiftly, though quietly, went to the door and opened it just a crack, peeking into the anteroom. Neither Tylora nor Antara was there.

She creased her forehead in confusion. It was rare for one to be missing, but both?

Worry crept into her consciousness. She cautiously made her way out into the dimly lit hall.

Moonlight from a small window filtered into the corridor, casting long shadows across the walls.

Footsteps echoed distantly; the sharp clack of strong-heeled boots on the stone floor.

She disregarded the men. Soldiers, more than likely, arguing over watches. Nothing more.

But Antara should be found. It was not like her to disappear like this.

Perhaps she was with her father. The nursemaid had often gone to report on Kaeslyn.

"Though why she would be their now…" Kaeslyn whispered to herself.

She quietly walked the empty corridors, heading toward her father’s chambers.

She paused before passing his study. A light flickered beneath the door.

As she came closer, she could make out raised voices though the stones also muffled these.

Worried, she stopped, stepping into one of the many alcoves that lined the walls.

She could make out her father’s voice clearly, as well as another male voice. Perhaps that of one of the soldiers.

A third voice was much harder to place. Kaeslyn knew of very few women her father trusted. Perhaps another mistress? The gods knew there had been quite a few in recent months.

A woman’s scream ripped her thoughts back to the present. The sound could have made a Lotarian she-bear cringe.

Two men burst out of the study, moving swiftly but silently. One tall, burly man held a short sword, the blade glinting wetly in the candlelight spilling from the now silent room.

Kaeslyn’s fear pinned her to the wall, just inside the shadow of an alcove. They walked directly in front of her, seemingly unaware of her presence. They set off down the hall, disappearing around the staircase.

Without thinking, Kaeslyn slowly made her way toward the doorway, keeping her eyes on the stairs should the men return. She braced herself against the stone doorway, afraid to look inside.

She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and peeked her head around the corner.

She fought back a scream, whipping her head back around. Tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks. She gritted her teeth, pounding the floor with her fists.

"They will pay," she sobbed through clenched teeth.

She slowly got up, tears abating, and walked quickly toward the staircase she had seen the soldiers descend. As she passed one of the few armor displays, she detached the spear from its grasp.

She vaguely noticed warmth trickling over her hands and glanced down to see blood oozing over them from her knuckles. She clenched them more tightly around the spear’s shaft, lessening the flow slightly.

She gained speed as she descended the stairs. She held the spear slightly in front of her, as if to impale any in her way. It was the spear that first encountered the barrier, snapping in half as her momentum carried her forward into it. Her hands came up instinctively, landing against the hard surface and spreading web-like veins across the apparent opening in front of her.

Coldness shocked her hands, burning her palms and fingers before flowing over her body. The shock threw her backwards onto the stone steps.

She lay there, bruised and dazed before carefully standing. With the broken spear shaft, she poked the invisible shield experimentally. Again crystalline spider webs spread from the point she touched. A few more stabs confirmed that it did indeed stretch across the entire opening.

Suddenly, she rammed the spear shaft into the barrier, holding it there as long as she could stand the intense cold that traveled up its length to no avail. The barrier remained strong and her opponents out of reach.

She puffed her anger into the cool air and it soon dissipated, replaced by fear.

There were two dead bodies in her father’s study and a magical barrier blocking the retreat of the assassins. Magic could only mean Alaman, and Alaman mean great danger.

Before she knew what was happening, her legs were swiftly carrying her back toward her chambers. She quickly realized their plan and hastily agreed that escape through the tunnels was much more preferable than death by Alaman’s henchmen.

By the time she reached the anteroom door, she was nearly panting with fear and exertion. She opened it quietly and closed it soundlessly behind her.

The air inside was still and quiet. Kaeslyn froze in the faint moonlight that seeped between the drapes. She held her makeshift weapon ready. She had left them open.

"Show yourself," she called quietly into the blackness.

Her eyes scanned the room, picking out familiar landmarks. Her large bed with its canopy loomed out of the shadows while the great wall mirror reflected the little light that entered the room.

A flash of movement caught her attention and she whirled to face that direction. A villainous laugh echoed through the room. "You think yourself a warrioress? An avenger?"

"Wenral," she growled. "You…" Her anger closed off her throat. Her body trembled with rage and grief.

Suddenly he lunged at her, a small sword appearing out of the blackness. She managed to jump out of his reach, but he quickly continued the attack until she was against a wall. She leaned into it, poised as he came again at her. Just before he would have stabbed his sword into her, she pushed herself out of his reach.

She sprinted for the door with a violent yell, reaching for the doorknob only to draw it back almost instantly from the icy touch. Magic!

She whirled to face Wenral, who was once again laughing maliciously. "You cannot save yourself any more than you could save your father and his mistress."

"You! You filthy catol! Motherless beast," she screamed.

He walked slowly toward her, the sword at his side and a murderous smirk at his lips. "Does that upset you, Little One?" The smirk widened into a malicious smile. "Come now, you cannot tell me that you cared for the drunken bastard."

Kaeslyn blinked, standing motionless.

Before she could act, or even speak, a familiar grating erupted from the wall behind Wenral. Kaeslyn instinctively sprang into action. She lunged at him, leaping at the last moment. As she landed, she brought the shaft she held down on the back of his head. A sickening crunch accompanied him to the floor as he crumpled.

With one threat taken care of, she set herself to meet the shadowy form that loomed out of the passageway, hoping she had not yet been seen.

The figure stooped a bit, seemingly looking for something in thee room. Kaeslyn did not budge from her spot. The danger of more attackers was very real. The form made its way toward her. Kaeslyn raised her broken staff, preparing to strike.

"Kaeslyn," whispered a familiar voice.

She froze. It could be a trick.

"Kae," came the voice again.

Kaeslyn stood hesitantly. "Ty," she whispered in dazed relief. Tylora faced her, motioning for Kaeslyn to follow her.

Kaeslyn took a step forward to do so, but jerked her foot back when it met something soft. She looked down to find she had kicked Wenral’s limp arm. She had forgotten him after the hatchway had opened, and nearly shrieked at this morbid discovery.

Tylora paused in the doorway, and Kaeslyn could read concern in the shadows that played across her face. Kaeslyn hurried after her. She ducked inside the tunnel and immediately hit the lever to retract the doorway.

This was it. No turning back.

She turned to follow Tylora, but instead found herself facing a large man, hunched slightly in the small passage. His dark hair and clothes made him difficult to distinguish from the tunnel wall behind him.

She took a step back reflexively and found herself against the cold stones. The stranger stood over her silently.

She flinched violently as a hand touched her shoulder out of the darkness. "This is Torin," Tylora soothed. "He’ll help us out of the city." He lifted his head slightly in response and Kaeslyn caught a glimmer of his green eyes in the faint torchlight.

She nodded hesitantly and they began to make their way down the passageway.

Turn after turn through the darkened maze got them no closer to the end. Nor to the torchlight that continuously appeared to have its source just around the next corner. Tylora was the first to speak, though she did so in a hushed voice. "This is not right. We should have reached the entrance by now." Her face wore a grim mask in the eerie torchlight.

They walked onward, though now more slowly and cautiously. Mist settled onto the floor and deepened as they walked farther. Kaeslyn lagged behind Tylora and her cloaked friend. She began to shake her head in despair. It seemed she would be trapped here until her execution.

It was for this reason that she nearly ran into them when they had stopped in the gloom. She looked up to find them staring at a glowing form in the center of the passage. She hesitantly poked her head between them to better see this glowing obstruction. There before them stood the most beautiful elven woman she had ever seen.

The mist that covered the tunnel floors had risen up around her, swirling about her feet, and condensing further to form her body. Her hair floated placidly about her head, her arms held gracefully in front of her.

The trio stood in stunned silence as the mist-woman floated before them. She peered at them a searching gaze. Her mist-formed eyes flowed over Tylora and slowly over to Kaeslyn. The woman’s eyes met Kaeslyn’s and the gaze intensified, almost as if there were some kind of familiarity; almost recognition.

Kaeslyn, too, felt this strange sense of familiarity; as though she knew this woman, yet did not. It both baffled and spellbound her.

The mist-woman finally broke away, turning her gaze briefly to Torin before moving back to view them together. Even with the mists forming her body, a small smile of perhaps contentment was visible on her serene face. She spread her graceful arms wide in a gesture they could only assume was greeting.

"Sha’len," she spoke as she raised her hand, palm outwards. Kaeslyn was immediately struck by the sound of her voice. She spoke in music; not as if singing, but in the sounds of the music itself.

"Fear not, Children of the Stars," she continued. "I am sent as both warning and guide. Only by the grace of the beneficent Wind Goddess, Esrana, am I able to speak to as such." She glided closer to them, stopping about five feet in front of them. "Heed my words well, for they are not spoken lightly." She bowed her head, the mist forming a somber mask on her face. It was a long moment before she lifted it.

Kaeslyn felt drawn to this familiar misty form. Tylora and Torin stepped aside without a word, as if they too knew Kaeslyn would go to her.

"Kaeslyn," the elf whispered as she drew nearer. The sound was much like that of chimes in a breeze. "Watch yourself, young Kaeslyn. Sometimes the heart sees true when the eyes do not."

Kaeslyn searched her face for the source of its familiarity. She knew this face, yet still could not place it.

The form stepped back again. "My time here is over. Sha’len, Star Chosen." She spread her arms wide once more and the mist at her feet began to dissipate, slowly moving upwards. The elf turned a mournful gaze to Kaeslyn, who stiffened instantly with recognition. "Sha’len, my daughter."

Kaeslyn immediately dropped to her knees. "Mother, you cannot abandon me again," she cried hoarsely.

The elf smiled sadly. "All things die, chiri. The princess as well as the lowest peasant. All bow to the laws of nature. But fear not," she continued as the mist about her waist dispersed. "I will always be with you as long as you remember me." She placed a misty hand on Kaeslyn’s forehead.

Kaeslyn closed her eyes and let the odd sensation flow over her unimpeded. Her skin tingled as her mother’s energy flowed over her and she felt as if all her energy had drained out of her.

When the sensation had passed, she opened her eyes to find only empty tunnel ahead of her. There was no sign of mist to be seen. The eerie torchlight had faded, leaving the stunned trio in almost complete darkness.

Torin was the first to recover, clearing his throat. Tylora stepped forward, gently placing a reassuring hand on Kaeslyn’s shoulder. After a moment she gently urged Kaeslyn to stand with a hand under her elbow.

"We need to leave quickly," she whispered. Kaeslyn, dazed and overwhelmed, stood mindlessly and allowed Tylora to lead her.

Outside, the lavender sky told them that dawn was not far away. They ran through the gardens, hunching their backs to keep below the eyes of the guards. Kaeslyn could do nothing but follow obediently as Torin hoisted first Tylora and then herself over a concealed section of the seven foot wall.

On the other side, three horses awaited them. Tylora mounted a chestnut and steadied a gray for Kaeslyn. She mounted absently, patting the horse’s neck to further steady him.

Torin came over the wall quickly afterwards, and mounted the muscular black stallion that awaited him. After a quick look back at the two women, he clicked his tongue and all three horses leapt toward the city streets.

Kaeslyn barely registered the cool morning air that blasted her as they sped through the empty streets. Her loose hair flew about her face, giving the scene a pale golden haze. She held the reins absently, taking no action to direct her mount. He followed Torin’s stallion of his own will.

They reached the eastern gate just as the sun began to cast the first true rays of day over the hills. As they approached, they could see two guards stepped into the road, crossing their halberds to bar their passage. Torin slowed their pace.

"Hail, travelers," the shorter of the two called to the group. Tylora rode next to Kaeslyn, leaning over to pull the hood of her cloak more firmly about her head.

"We seek to stop the flight of a fugitive woman."

Torin sat taller in his saddle, towering even more over the men on foot. He snorted angrily. "And just who put you up to this?" he questioned hautily. "I do not have time for this. Well, don’t just stand there! Be quick about it. I don’t rush through city streets for nothing!"

"By the Duke’s own order," the soldier answered belatedly as he slowly walked up to Torin. The taller man stayed back, keeping his halberd across the roadway.

"I should have known Solgan would try such a foolish waste of time," Torin retorted.

"No, sir. Not Solgan," he corrected as he looked over the stallion. "The wizard Alaman has assumed the duchy. Seems our former Duke Solgan betrayed someone he should have." He patted the stallion’s rump and walked casually back towards Kaeslyn and Tylora. "Or her drank himself right out of someone’s good favor," he added smugly.

Kaeslyn lifted her head at that, coming somewhat out of her daze. She looked him squarely in the eyes, measuring this little man.

"Are you quite finished," Torin said, drawing the man’s attention from her. "Surely my women can be of no interest to you," he scolded. He then turned to the soldier still barring the road. "You, there! Three drincas for you and your friend if he lets us on our way quickly."

The man’s eyes grew wide at the though of a week’s pay in an instant. "Ulnaro," he called hastily. "This man has no quarrel with us. And we can honestly say we stopped them as ordered."

Ulnaro walked back toward his cohort. "I agree. I believe we have performed our duties." He glanced back at Kaeslyn and again met her gaze. "Well enough," he added.

Torin pulled out his purse and counted out the coins to the men. Then Ulnaro and his friend stood to the side and let the three pass. Torin clicked his tongue twice and the horses took up a comfortable trot, which they maintained until they were far out of sight of Aidem. Then he pushed both the horses and the women hard, flying out into the countryside.

At midday, the horses and riders rested at the side of a small stream. They did not unsaddle their horses - for none knew if they would have to mount quickly - but they led them down to refresh themselves with the mountain fed waters.

"Here, Kae." She turned to find Tylora holding out a trail cake to her. Kaeslyn shook her head, waving it off.

"None of us have eaten all day, Kae. You must eat something to keep your strength up." Her voice was as hard as her emerald eyes threatened.

"I am not hungry, and stronger than I look," she countered softly.

Without another word, Tylora grabbed her arm and shoved the travel cake into her hand. "I’d shove it in your mouth if I thought you would swallow it," she grumbled as she walked away.

After allowing the horses some much-deserved rest, the threesome set off again, heading west along a rutted, seldom used trail.

They could have turned north or south, even back to the east, for all it mattered to Kaeslyn. She idly spun the untouched trail cake, its honey making her fingertips cling to it.

They stopped just at dusk in a small clearing well back from the little road. Without a fire, Tylora and Torin tore into more trail cakes. Again Kaeslyn did not eat, though Tylora’s protests were much more open. Torin sat against a tree, cocking an eyebrow skeptically at the spectacle. Tylora gave him s sour look.

They settled into uneasy silence. Travel had made them weary, but anxiety kept them awake. Every shadow held danger, every sound that of pursuit.

Tylora took the first watch, but only mid-way through Torin relieved her. Wary though she was, the day’s travel had taken its toll on her.

Kaeslyn lay on her bedroll, not much more than a blanket spread across the ground. She did not sleep or doze, but remained alert. Her senses picked up every sound, her mind analyzing it instantly.

Torin’s hard pace had exhausted him, as well as both of the women. With only two-thirds of the night spent, Kaeslyn noticed his head begin to nod as he stood against the tree facing the road. She rose quietly, though he jerked noticeably when her foot crushed the dry leaves that littered the ground.

She took a spot next to him against the gnarled tree, eyes never leaving the road. "My turn has long been up. I will take watch from here."

He turned his gaze to her slowly, studying her briefly. "You can’t have anyone suffer more than you, can you," he spoke.

Kaeslyn blinked, surprised at the accusation. "It is my fight. I should bear the pain alone," she replied softly. She paused for a moment, considering. "Why have you joined this doomed party? What gain could it possibly be for you?"
He chuckled coldly. "I do not live in your palace intrigue. My motives are not always for myself, nor always explained." He stood, stretching for a moment as she tried to make sense of his reply. "I’ll let you have your watch, m’lady. Good eve." He bowed slightly, but she kept her eyes on the road. The night was not over and the longest part was yet to come.