Phoenicia Two

Athens, Phoenicia

The storm had been building for days. The dark billowing clouds that threatened to douse the white stone of Athens had followed the metallic automated messenger-bird, bringing secret news from Crete to the Emperor. Now they broke, sending citizens running to their homes, cloaks covering their heads. Five minutes after the first drops, the city appeared completely deserted. But thought the empty streets two figures walked at a leisurely pace, apparently unhindered by the now pouring rain. Their names were Eleazar, and Androcles.

Eleazar was the son of Caedmon Severin, the Foremost Citizen of Athens, the representative of the Athenian populace to the Emperor. The only person of more importance in the city was the Emperor Himself.

Eleazar’s companion was the son of a baker. And he could make a fine pastry.

They were going to the library of Athens. only the nobles were allowed inside, so it was usually empty. Only a few archivist and scholars could be found there on a good day, let alone a rainy one. But inside the mausoleum was a good place not to be seen.

The tall bookcases held thousands of scrolls, book and other ancient documents. Literature from a time long ago. Hardly anyone used them anymore, but Baltzar had and affinity for antiquities. He enjoyed the reminder of the past, Caedmon had told his son. So the books stayed.

Outside the building two stone griffins flanked the huge wooden doors, guarding the entrance from some unknown enemy. The two youths paused before the threshold, protected from the rain. “Why are we here, even?” Eleazar asked. Androcles lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing lanky dark hair and a pointed, pockmarked face. Eleazar hadn’t worn a cloak or hood, and stood dripping.

“You should dry off before we go in,” Androcles said. “It will be colder in there, I think.” His face twitched, like he was holding back a smile.

“It figures, when it finally rains I forget to dress accordingly.” Eleazar snatched Androcles’ cloak from him, and toweled off his hair and tunic. “Why are you even here?” he asked.

“I wanted to look something up,” he said. “And you better smarten up. You don’t look your station!” Androcles smiled, sardonically.

“What did you want to look up?” Eleazar said again.

“Just hurry up. I want to get this done.”

The library was empty, as usual. Every sound they made echoed through the building. In the atrium, to their left was a deserted desk. Usually some preoccupied clerk or scribe was there. But now there was no one. “Strange,” Eleazar said. “There‘s always someone around here…and you shouldn’t even be here. I‘ve got a bad feeling about this already. Let‘s hurry up.”

They walked through the halls of books, Androcles searching for something, Eleazar trailing behind him.

“How did you even learn to read?” He asked.

“Father taught me. He learned from his father. Et cetera, et cetera. We’re getting closer.”

“Closer to what, again?” As they progressed further and further into the bowels of the library, Eleazar was growing uneasy.

“Something from a dream…”

“No. From a dream? You‘re kidding me, right? Or have your completely lost your mind?”

“This dream was different, Eleazar. It didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like . . . I don’t know . . . ” His voice trailed away. “It felt like a vision, or something”

Eleazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, it felt like a vision, did it? And experience are you using as a basis for comparison?”

Androcles paused. “Here it is.” He pulled a giant tome off of a shelf.. The title read “A Compendium of Architectural Wonders and a Dictionary of Architecture.”

“Architecture. You are crazy.”

“You: be quiet.” Androcles opened the book and flipped through the dusty pages until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is.”

He read from the book: “During the reign of King Minos of Crete, Daedelus constructed a maze of tunnels and passages hidden in the caverns beneath the city of Knossus. The king had commissioned it to be built so that his secret children might be housed, kept away from the rest of the world. No one was to know of his hideous progeny. After years of work, the Labyrinth was completed. To maintain it’s secret, Minos confined Daedelus to the depths of the Labyrinth. He didn’t trust his servant anymore. Icarus, Daedelus’ son, escaped incarceration and sent a message to his friend, Theseus, the son of King Aegeus of Tyre. The prince hurried to aid his friend, but it was too late. The architect had died, and his son fled all his father’s secrets to the southeast, never to be seen again. To this day the Labyrinth remains hidden. The caves under the city were empty. Minos’ beastly children: vanished.”

Androcles looked up from the book. Eleazar raised his eyebrows. “And?”

Androcles began pacing. “This is from my dream! I dreamed about this Labyrinth, this underground maze. I knew I‘d heard the story about it before . . . And I don‘t know when the book was written. It makes it sound like it was recent history. But now, the Labyrint, Minos, these monsters . . . Even Crete itself, are all sort of legendary. No one really thinks about it anymore.”

“But what does this have to do with your dream. I mean, why does it matter? It was just a dream!”

“I told you,” Androcles said. “It didn’t feel like a dream!”

“You‘re insane!” Eleazar threw his arms up in the air in defeat. “That‘s all there is to it.”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up,” Eleazar began, but Androcles shushed him.

Androcles whispered. “I heard something!”

“Yeah, it was me-”

“No, it was something else . . . This way.” Androcles crept down the aisle, and across two rows. Eleazar followed him. In a section of the library that appeared to hold books about mathematics, Androcles stopped. From the aisle next to them, hushed voices could be heard.

“And did he find it?”

“He couldn’t have said, whether he did or not. If our enemies intercepted the carrier, the discover would be useless, you know that.”

“But do you think he found it?”

“I would have to postulate . . . Yes.”

There was a gasp.

“But this means-!”

“It means nothing yet.”

“The Saturnalia is so soon. Will there be time?”

“Well, I don‘t know about any time. The Saturnalia is just a proposed date. It would make the message stronger. But any other time would do just as well, ultimately.”

“Has he informed the Emperor?”

“I have no idea. The Lord‘s relationship with the Baltzaar is . . . A mystery, to those who actually look at it.”

“The Emperor is unsympathetic, though? He must be, otherwise, why all the secrecy?”

“Secrecy is a tradition, Joachim. It has been, since the first days of our persecution. You wouldn‘t know, you have only just been initiated. Now, we are mostly forgotten. No on remembers Balor anymore. But that will change.”

“We should leave now, perhaps? I do have some other things to attend to.”

“Of course, Joachim, you may go. We shall meet here again, twelve days from now.”

Androcles and Eleazar watched as the man called Joachim hurried down the long row of shelves, toward the entrance of the library. His companion, it seemed, had elected to stay cloistered amoung his books, and the two eavesdroppers were forced to take a very round-about route, to avoid meeting the man who preceded, out of the library. And when they walked out into the rain-soaked streets, he was gone.

End Phoenicia Two

New Timekeeping.

I have decided that henceforth Trellarya time shall have no corelation to real time. But, if you care to date your stories, you may.

Valsurstagt: The fight for the throne, part 2

I opened my eyes, and blinked sleepily at the sunlight. Then I sat up, remembering last night and how I was most certainly not back in my little cellar room at the palace.
Very strange, I thought. Everything had been very strange. I began to have questions about the whole experience. The first was, how did Maornya know about me, and how in the kingdoms had she gotten hold of my kivae? The next one, was how had Tatyana known about me and Maornya?
The second was easier to answer, Tatyana was the queen, she probably had spies everywhere. My guess about Maornya was that she had used magic, but it was only a guess.
I considered Maornya, wondering why I had been at all scared. Yes, she was a sorceress, but she looked to be not much older than me, and with my kivae, I was protected. I really had no reason to fear.
I stood up, and shook out my cloak and dress. It was a rather warm day from the time of year, and I took off the cloak, feeling hot.
Looking about, I began to wonder where I was. The mountain covered the northern half of Valsurstagt, and extended into Acheron, I could be anywhere. That might prove to be a problem. If I was lost in the mountains, it would hardly be easy to stage a fight for the throne.
With the cloak over my arm, I began to walk towards the edge of the valley. I had no idea which direction I was going in, but supposed this would be as good as any.
I was lucky. When I came over the ridge, I looked down, down, into a deep gorge, and there were the peaks and spires of a city. I started down. I needed to find out where I was, first of all, and then I needed to find a place to stay until the trial of Vanderlak, when I could prove my claim to the throne.
While I walked, I thought how everything had changed so much in one short night. It was odd that I was not more confused, but everything felt natural, as though this was really my destiny. To be Queen of Valsurstagt.

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

I walked down the side of the gorge for the best part of the morning, and arrived in the city when the sun was overhead. As I approached, I took precautions by slipping the kivae under the collar of my dress, and pulling my hair down over my ears. I stowed the cloak behind a rock, so I shouldn’t have to carry it, and walked into the city.
It was not much different from the great city of Vanderlak where I had been born. Except, the atmosphere seemed slightly different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.
I came to an inn, near the center of the city, and slipped in. I was famished. I hadn’t eaten since noon of the previous day.
“What will it be then?” asked the innkeeper, when I sat down on a stool at the counter. I understood the words, it was the same language that I knew, but with a very different accent.
“Breakfast please,” I felt in my apron pocket, and pulled out a few copper yrasts (that is the currency in Valsurstagt).
“Where do you come from?” asked the innkeeper, staring. “That’s one coin that I’ve never laid eyes on before. Sorry, but I only take durks and turins.”
I was in Acheron! The only country who used the turin currency. I had traveled hundreds of miles in that second.
“Oh, thank you anyway,” I said, getting up, and making for the door.
“Hey!” he called after me. “What about that accent? Sounds Valsurn to me.”
I turned, feeling a bit uneasy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men get up from a table near the door.
“We don’t like foreigners,” one slurred. He was obviously more than a little drunk.
“That is hardly my problem,” I said, feeling irritated.
Then, they began to advance on me, and I bit my tongue. That had not been a good thing to say.
Before I could think, the bigger man, took a punch at me. It hit my jaw, and knocked me back onto the floor of the inn. I gasped, and held my chin as it throbbed.
“Yeah,” said the other. “We don’t like stuck-up foreign misses who waltz into our city pretending to be miss somebody-from-somewhere.”
I stood up, and began to walk toward the door.
“Ah, no you don’t,” said the first thug, grabbing my arm. “We need to teach all them dirty Valsurns a lesson!”
“You let go of me!” I hissed, trying to yank my arm away.
Before I knew what was happening, the second thug pulled a knife from his pocket and slashed at my hand. Once, twice, a large bloody X etched on my palm. I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, I could only stand there stupidly, looking at the dripping red marks, and feeling the most horrible pain I had ever felt in my life.
Then, my feelings came back, and I ran. He had let go of me to handle the knife. I slammed out of the door and kept running. I tried to pull out my kivae, but my unhurt hand was clutching the wounded one, trying to stop the bleeding. I heard shouts.
“She’s getting away!”
“After her! filthy foreigner!”
In terror, I put on a burst of speed and careened round a corner, right into a wall. A dead end. I ran to the wall, and began to climb the rough stones, the blood of my hand leaving smears wherever I touched. I heard running footsteps, and felt a yank on my ankle.
I lost my weak hold, and fell to the ground. I landed with my foot underneath me and heard a sickening crack. My ankle was on fire. There was the man over me, with the knife. The knife was falling toward me. I tried to scramble up, but could hardly move, I couldn’t make my foot move. My eyes watered in pain, as I felt the knife tear my flesh for the second time, all down my back. My eyes shut inadvertently, and I collapsed to the ground, seeming to lose control of my limbs.
I felt a pool of blood forming underneath my back, from the ghastly cut. They’ll finish me off now! I thought in terror, and tensed for the final blow. Now I’ll never live to be Queen.
But instead I heard a shout. “Stop!” more footfalls.
“Is she alive?” another voice.
“I’m not sure, those filthy drunkards, murdering a girl.”
“I’m all right,” I whispered, trying to open my eyes.
“Don’t try to speak,” said the first voice.
I heard the words faintly as I drifted into blissful darkness and knew nothing more for a long time.

Gould - Greftyle 2

DEWQU

The Gothic architecture surrounding Whren was horrifying in the rain. Silhouetted by the lighting behind it, it made the gargoyles adorning the churches and buildings look as if they were moving. Strange mist floated in the cold air making it hard to see anything at least five feet away. the people around the province said that the mist was emanating from the ground coming from nowhere. But they where wrong. The people of greftyle were not superstitious but when it came to this strange mist, rumors started to fly. Alien lights shimmered in the sky, casting creepy shadows of hobos and muggers hiding in the alley way,waiting for a tired person to walk by. a person with money. the same person Whren was waiting for. the man about to jump from at least 20 stories up Most of the lights were out it was 12 o'clock at night but, Whren was nocturnal and escaping town and waiting for a man named Brasst Gould. Whren was only ten years old and was waiting for Gould because he knew that Gould was the most dangerous man in Greftyle and because somebody might be looking for him now that the four men he had just murdered had been found by non other then Captain Faust Xavier, the most celebrated man in the history of Greftyle and the chief of police. although Whren had good reason to kill them, he didn't think that it would change Xaviers mind . The men Whren had murdered had killed his family two years ago.

* * * *


Prime Minister Saul Tyson was studying in his study. Reading the papers in front of him. Saul did not want to read the papers in front of him because he had had enough bad news for decades and did not need anymore. But, he read the papers anyway. The aforementioned papers stated many different paragraphs,words,and letters that can be summed up in 5 facts:

1. Tessol was overrun with werewolves.
2. every human being has been wiped out
3. werewolves have the brain of a 5 year old child with an affinity for human flesh.
4. Greftyle was going downhill and if Tessol is not cleansed, Greftyle will be overrun with even more werewolves in 1 year.
5. Watch out.
   

Tyson did not understand the last part until he noticed that it was written by someone else,most likely the man sitting on the window sill behind him. "Boo" the man said making Tyson nearly jump out of his skin. "GOULD!" yelped Tyson "WHY ARE YOU HERE!?". Tyson had enlisted Gould A few times before to do his dirty work for him (I.E. kill offenders). "Why?, because Wraith wants you dead and, I don't want me dead" Gould said calmly and grinned after the last word. "Wraith? said Tyson backing up "why would he want me dead? Doesn't he have better things to do then ask you to kill me?". "Like I'd tell you" Muttered Gould as he pulled a long serrated sword out of A sheath.
"D-don't Do anything stupid Gould!" Tyson Yelped and jumped backward in to his desk. "Stupid? Gould said slowly and smiled. "I Won't do anything stupid" Tyson turned and ran to the door , but Gould wasn't fat or ugly. Gould cleaned his sword silently and jumped out the window, landing on his feet 20 stories below.

* * * *

Whren grinned and started walking toward the man who just jumped from the 3rd story of the prime ministers study. Gould glanced at whren without thinking twice and pulled him into an empty alleyway. "What do you want boy?" growled Gould "Why do you want to me?".
"because I need a teacher!"said whren happily"and you're the best,or so I'm told"
who told him that? thought Gould. probably frost, he has children."your mind wanders doesn't it?"the last thing Whren remembered was Gould grabbing his neck and slamming him to the ground. Hard.


* * * *

Whren woke up in a large cavern. Lantern hung from the ceiling along with a few skeletons.
A large table sat in the middle of the room. It was covered in half empty mugs. A single plate sat on the side of the table that faced him. Whren got up and walked over to the table. A huge book sat there open to a page that read:

WENDIGO
Wedigous spectrarumus

SIZE:5-6 feet tall
WEIGHT:150-200 lbs
SPECIES:Spectral
STATUS:Endangered

The rest Whren could not read (he had never been good with words). He closed the book to read the cover. It Read:

A MODERN BEASTERY

A GUIDE TO THE WILDLIFE OF TRELLARYA

By Aduem Sulfurr

" 'Ello! ".Whren Jump and whipped around to see a small furry man standing on a ledge in the wall "What?" Whren stuttered. "I said 'ello." The small man said talking with a strange with a accent. "Who are you?" asked Whren. "I'm Phrout." "Phr-what?" Whren said once again. "You asked my name and I told you-It's Phrout."said the little man "Oh, I see." replied whren "where am I?". "I'm not s'posed to tell you." Phrout said. Whren sighed and turned around. He glanced back down at the book. "so you're awake!" said a voice from behind whren. He turned and saw Phrout running out the door between the legs of Gould. "sorry about the slamming. what other way would you prefer me to render you unconscious?" asked Gould smiling. " where am I?" repeated whren. "The caves. outside of deju." said Gould. "why?" asked Whren. "you have alot of questions young sir." said Gould "I have asked the men if they think we should take you in. And there's only about twenty or so of us left. The king has either killed or captured us. So we have agreed." "why has the King been killing you?" asked whren. " take a wild guess." Gould said sarcastically "we're assassins. We kill people for a living." "Oh" said whren quietly. "You have alot to learn." said Gould.

Timekeeping

In order to give the writers more time to develop thier characters and stories, There is an official change to Trellarya timekeeping. One year in Trellarya is now equal to four months real time. That means that it is currently midsummer. That's all for now.

Abduction- Archeron

Somewhere south of Zur, in the central mountains of Archeron. 15th of Latespring.


------


It had been over four months since the council had been assassinated. And the assassins had not yet been found. It was odd. Usually, the assassins were found out and caught within days, thanks to the work of the Bounty Hunter guild. But this time nothing had been found. It was being murmured in taverns and guild houses around Archeron that the Bounty Hunters were behind the attack. But Solana Gytran, Master of the Husbandry Guild, knew that it hadn't been the Bounty Hunters. She also knew that it was not any other humans, nor slyg, nor any other threats known to men. She had been working on who, or more specifically what, had killed the council members for the last three and a half months. So far she only had a vague idea of what it was. But she was soon going to find out much more.

As she rode through the crisp mountain air on her Ieorian bird she thought about her upcoming mission. 'Find and question the four armed bard. Find out where he came from. Shouldn't be too hard.' she thought to herself. Suddenly, she heard a rumbling sound from behind and to her left. She glanced quickly over her shoulder. "What in Trellarya is that?" she whispered to herself. Then she knew no more.

------

In the high mountain pastureland, about 7 miles south of Zur. 6th of Midsummer.

------

"Tell me where she is!!" Dulaman shouted at the pathetic heap of a man in front of him.

"I know nothing! Truly, sir." Whined the pathetic shepherd. He was at the moment very flustered, between the wall of his shack and a very angry guildsman.

"If he knows anything, which I doubt he does, you'll never get it out of him like that." Said a voice from behind. Dulaman stopped and turned around. There was a man in strange black robes a few paces off.

"Fine then, if you think you're so great, why don't you get him to tell me. I'm looking for a woman, about 1.5 metrons tall, with long blond hair. She rides an Ieorian bird."

"Very well." replied the other. He strode up to the cowering shepherd. Dulaman noticed that as the man walked his robes made no sound, though they were loose, especially on the torso.

"Now," began the man, "You may have a miserable existence now, but I guarantee you that if you do not tell us what you know, I will give you pain like you have never experienced before." The shepherd didn't say anything. Then the man in black produced a strange implement from somewhere within his robes. "Do you know what this is?" he said as he held it up to the light. "It's called a Demon's Whistle. Do you know why? Because when used properly on the correct places of the body people make sounds like that of a demon's whistle. Now, tell me what you know of this girl, and who payed you to keep quiet about it." The shepherd was almost sick with panic.

"Okay, I'll tell you! I don't know anything about the girl, but I found her bird back in Latespring! It was dead in the pass of Skilshry, beyond the village of the same name! It's about three hours down the trail! A man dressed in a great black travelling cloak payed me 60 Turins to not say anything! He didn't give me his name or anything else. I never even saw his face, let me go, please, let me go now. Don't hurt me." The man in black robes looked pleased with his work.

"Very well," he said. "I shall spare your life. Be gone!" He stepped back and the shepherd ran around his shack and off into the mountains. "That," said the man, "Is how to persuade something." He then turned to Dulaman. "The name's Yiri Jasdn." Yiri held out his hand, and Dulaman stared at it quizzically. "Don't you shake hands?" asked Yiri.

"How do I know I can trust you?" replied Dulaman.

"Well, we're both here for the same reason-"

"Which is?"

"Solana Gytran."

"How do you know about master Gytran!?" Dulaman instantly demanded.

"I could ask you the same question." Yiri replied.

"I'll be asking the questions, thanks." shot back Dulaman.

"And why is that?" Yiri coolly responded.

"Because, I have the drop on you." Dulaman said as he drew his sword.

"Oh, really?" Suddenly, Dulaman was in shadow. He looked up and saw a huge, floating, metallic disc, rapidly descending on him.

"What in the name of-" Dulaman whispered. Suddenly Yiri sent a crushing blow across his face, and he knew no more.

Kovàl, chapter two

Andrew wiped beads of perspiration from his forehead as he bent over his task. He was putting the finishing touches to an arrow in the fletcher’s workshop. Hours of effort and much practice had gone into this, his first shaft, fashioned from a choice Birch sapling and long, straight gray goose feathers. He picked up the finished product, and held it up admiringly. “What do you think, Master Orin?” he called. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

A rasping voice which sounded like a pit full of snakes responded, “Wouhld youuu prehfehr thihs?”

The arrow morphed into a large purple spine in his hand. Andrew dropped it in terror and tried to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. Something grabbed him from behind and wrenched him around. He was looking at the familiar face of Master Orin, but something was wrong. Suddenly, the man started sprouting purple and hissing. Andrew was paralyzed. He felt a burning, stabbing pain in his neck.

The Hivemind is master. The Hivemind is master. The Hivemind is master.



Andrew woke in a cold sweat. He was breathing hard, and the sheets of his bed were tangled around him. “It was a dream,” he panted to himself. “Just a dream. It was only a dream.” A faint hope began to grow within him. “Maybe this was all just a nightmare.” He felt his neck: it was still slightly painful to the touch, and he could feel the scar where the Slyg spines had penetrated his flesh. So part of it was real, after all. Andrew sighed dejectedly as everything began to come back into place.

After being dropped off by his father, Andrew had started wandering around the Highlands. As a young man going through the fasaerid, everyone had been so kind to him. He had gotten cocky, and decided to go exploring. Ignoring whispered warnings of an unknown menace, Andrew decided to cross the Trederis river. A number of years ago, this river had become the eastern border of Kovàl, and no one seemed to know why the king had given up the thin strip of land between the river and the desert. Though his father the baron had warned him not to look too closely into this matter, Andrew was very curious. He laughed at the rumors about “Slygs”, supposedly 10-foot-tall monsters that made mincemeat of anyone who wandered into their territory. Andrew decided to ford the river and find out what was going on. He found out all right: much more than he had bargained for. Months later, his brief captivity still haunted his dreams.

Andrew got up and began pacing. He was in Àmstaad, the seat of the highland barony of FinLaughington, in the upper bedroom of the Master Fletcher Orin’s house. He had taken a temporary job running errands, helping the master in the workshop, and doing odd jobs. In return, Orin was teaching him the art of arrow-making, as well as giving him room & board, and a small hourly wage.

Andrew heard a knock at the door. He quickly threw on the dressing-gown which had been hanging on a chair by the bed. “Come in!” he called. The door opened, and the master’s daughter, Karèl, entered the room. She had just turned sixteen years old, and was about a head shorter than Andrew. She was holding a steaming cup in her hands, and looked at Andrew with concern.
“I heard you shouting. Another nightmare?”

Andrew nodded silently.

“I couldn’t sleep, so when I heard you, I came up to investigate. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m fine. Really.”

The girl smiled. “Here,” she said, “I brought you a cup of warm mead. Maybe it will help you get to sleep.” Andrew smiled back, taking the steaming honey-wine gratefully. Karèl yawned. “I’d better be getting back to bed. Good night. Pleasant dreams!”

She closed the door behind her. “How sweet of her,” Andrew thought, then shuddered as an image of Karèl infested by the Slyg flashed through his mind. Poor girl. She had no idea what was out there. She had no idea what he had been through, what he was still going through. Andrew sipped away at the mead, his head a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. But as the warm drink slowly began to work its way through his system, Andrew began to nod. He got back into bed, and at last fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

* * * * *

The next day, Andrew was working in the shop, when Master Orin came over to observe his work. He looked at the arrow which was taking shape under Andrew’s hands. “That’s fine work, my boy. You are coming along very well!”

“Thank you, Master,” Andrew replied. He felt a glow of pleasure. Orin did not give praise lightly. When he said something was done well, he meant it.

“Andrew, when I first took you in, I wasn’t sure if it was going to work. But you’ve turned out to be one of the quickest and most hard-working lads I’ve ever met. You have the makings of an excellent fletcher. I have a proposition for you. After your fasaerid is over, would you consider staying on with me? You say there’s not much opportunity for you back home in the lowlands, but you certainly have a future here. I’d like to take you on as a full partner in my fletching business. What do you say?”

Andrew was taken aback. What could he say? He was a Baron’s son! This was a very generous offer, and showed how highly Master Orin though of him. But there was simply no way he could accept. He stammered. “Uh, that’s… wonderfully generous of you. Do you really think I’m that good?”

“Of course you’re good. And…” he grinned knowingly, “I’m not the only one who would be happy if you agreed to stay around here.” Andrew felt his ears turn red. He cleared his throat.
“Well, I’ll think about it,” he said. “Thank you.”

* * * * *

That evening, Andrew was on his way home from the small forest outside of Àmstaad. He was carrying a bunch of saplings for Master Orin’s workshop. As he passed the gate of one of the outlying houses, Andrew saw Karèl running out the front door. “Karèl!” he called in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

She hurried towards him. “I was just visiting my friend Erica,” she said. “I guess we lost track of time.” she giggled nervously, then suddenly became serious. “Papa must be terribly worried: I’m not supposed to be out after dark.”

“Oh, don’t fret,” said Andrew. “I’ll walk you home. You’ll be just fine.”

The pair were soon on their way. Andrew started whistling merrily, but Karèl seemed nervous. Gradually, a strange feeling began to come over Andrew as well, as if they were being followed. He started to say something, but Karèl halted abruptly and held up her hand. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. They waited in silence for a moment.

“It was nothing,” said Andrew after a moment. “You must be imagining things.”

“Wait! There it is again!” This time, Andrew heard it too. Someone was definitely behind them. Andrew nodded silently. Then he whirled around to confront the stalker. Only his quick reflexes saved him from a heavy blow to the head! With the speed of long practice, Andrew drew his dagger and rose onto the balls of his feet, ready for a fight. Narrowly avoiding another swing of the club, Andrew leapt forward and thrust his knife into the attacker’s chest. Before he could withdraw the blade, he and Karèl were surrounded by several more thugs. Karèl screamed, but the sound was suddenly cut off, as if someone had covered her mouth. Andrew turned around again, but not fast enough. A menacing shadow loomed up in front of him, a cudgel in its upraised arms. The blow fell more quickly than he could react. Andrew’s head felt like it was split in two. Lights flashed before his eyes. He fell to the ground, and knew no more.

* * * * *

Andrew woke in a smoky cave lit by torches. His hands and feet were bound, and he was facing a stone wall. Andrew rolled over and looked about him. Karèl was lying nearby, apparently still unconscious. He saw a scruffy-looking guard sitting in the corner of the room. The guard’s clothes were tattered, and it looked like he hadn’t bathed for weeks. He was holding a slightly rusty scimitar in his hand, and a pistol was tucked in his belt. He looked at Andrew and grunted.
“You’re awake.”

He got up and stomped out of the room. The sound seemed to wake Karèl. She stirred and sat up.

“Andrew?” she said groggily. “Wha- What’s happened? Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “We seem to be in some sort of cave. I think we’ve been captured by bandits. The guard just left.” His mind was working furiously. “If they are just common thieves, what do they want with us? Why didn’t they just take our money and leave us lying in the street?”

Andrew could feel the waithe-brom against his chest. “Should I use it?” He thought uncomfortably. He finally decided against it. “I’m not in mortal peril,” he reasoned. “If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. There’s no need to use the stone.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of several ragged and unwashed ruffians, led by a man who seemed to be their leader. He turned and barked at his men. “Stay here and guard the door, but don’t make a sound.” Turning back toward Andrew and Karèl with a big smile and assuming a jovial tone, he said, “Greetings! Allow me to introduce myself: I am Joràn. Welcome to the Brotherhood!”

“Brotherhood?” snorted Andrew. “You’re nothing but common thugs!”

Joràn's eyes flashed angrily, but he quickly regained his composure. He chuckled woodenly, and said, “My associates are sometimes too… enthusiastic. But I assure you, we are not ‘common thugs.’”

Andrew looked at Joràn skeptically. The man cleared his throat and assumed a lecturing tone.
“We are the Brotherhood. We are all men who have been exploited by society, deprived of their basic needs by the wealthy and privileged….”

The men around him began to yawn. They’d heard this speech before. Joràn continued, oblivious. “We simply retake what is ours, earning a meager living by freeing the rich of their excess wealth. In fact…”

“So you’re common thugs,” Andrew interrupted.

Joràn, jolted out of his speech, glared at Andrew for a moment, then gave another lifeless laugh. “It is true, my associates are sometimes too… enthusiastic,” he said.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “And what do you want from us?”

“My men were sent to invite you to join our company. We are always looking for new recruits who are willing to join us in providing a valuable service to society, for everyone knows that riches are the gateway to corruption.”

“A fine way to invite new members: knocking them on the head!”

“Ah, yes. Well…” he paused. The men behind him were grumbling. Joràn turned.

“What are you complaining about?” he snapped.

“The boy killed Arnie!” one of them shouted. “We want revenge!”

Joràn sighed angrily. “We need him. The boy’s a fletcher. I’m not sure if you noticed, but bows work better if you have arrows to shoot with them.”

The men shuffled their feet nervously.

“Besides, didn’t you see the way he fought in the alley? We had him surrounded and caught by surprise in the dark, and he still managed to kill Arnie. He will be a valuable member of the brotherhood! More valuable than Arnie, and certainly more valuable than you are, morons!”
The men, subdued, returned to their posts. Joràn turned back to Andrew, again wearing the same hollow smile.

“What do you say, boy? Take it or leave it.”

Andrew curled his lip. “I’ll leave it. ‘Brotherhood’ indeed. I would never associate with scum like you.”

Joràn snarled and gestured to one of his men. The goon grabbed Karèl and held a dagger to her neck. She gave a little shriek of fright.

“Join us, or we slit her throat.” Joràn’s smile had suddenly turned into a sadistic grin, and his eyes glowed with malice.

Andrew’s mind started racing. He couldn’t just give in. But he had to save Karèl! A drop of blood trickled down the girl’s neck from where the dagger’s point was pressing against her skin. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“Andrew!” she gasped.

A dozen wild schemes flew through Andrew’s mind, all of them completely useless.
“Very well, if that is your decision,” sneered Joràn. He nodded to the man holding Karèl. She closed her eyes, steeling herself for the final blow…

“Wait!” shouted Andrew. “I’ll join!”

Joràn smiled triumphantly. He gestured to the thug, who let go of Karèl. She collapsed to the floor in a faint.

“Take her back to her father, and I’ll join your ‘brotherhood’” Andrew said dejectedly.

Joràn nodded. “Very well. But if you should ever go back on your word, we know just where to find her.” He chuckled to himself, then turned on his heel and marched out.