Chapter One:

The Masked One

(Author's Note: In this story, Joren is alive, yes, but there will be no romance between him and another charrie… At least, I don't think so. This was written on an imaginative whim of mine, so bear with me. Now, on with the story!)

The King's Own had been sent, once again, to the Desert. But this was not a pleasure trip. Along with the Own were a small band of knights, including Joren of Stone Mountain, Zahir ibn Alhaz, Keladry of Mindelan, and Duke Baird. The urgency of the situation showed in the way the former enemies worked together on many of the jobs. But no one in the band said a word of their mission, at least, not in public. But in private, the matter was discussed over and over again.

"He must be Bazhir," argued Zahir one night. "No other person knows our ways well enough to stage attacks such as these."

"Why not say it? The person goes masked; it could very well be a girl. I am proof of that," Keladry reminded them.

For once, Joren said nothing. He merely looked out of their tent at the Royal Forest, seeming to wait for something. Then, "How do we know where this person is?"

Keladry looked grim. "We don't. For all we know, he –or she- could be following us at this very moment."

Zahir nodded grimly. "And I have a feeling they are. I sense danger; the forest is quiet. I don't even see immortals about. Something is up."

The other two nodded agreement. Keladry stood and went to the tent flap to stand beside Joren. "I just wish they'd show themselves."

Then perhaps… I will.

"What was that?" asked Kel, startled.

The other two shrugged, worry hidden in their eyes. Together, they stepped out to join the others.

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Only a few yards from the camp, hidden deep in the shadows, stood a figure clothed in dark cloth. It wore a demi-mask (AN: Hides the top part of your face) and wore a cloak hood to hide it's other features.

Unknown to it, Duke Baird, the healer assigned to this trip, was watching. He knew the figure was near. He also sensed pain. Physical pain. He remained still, however, choosing to pretend to sleep as the figure crept closer.

It was joined by another. To his astonishment, Duke Baird noticed that they were speaking, not aloud, but in their minds, and thus in his, as he was the only one close.

They are not fools, Masked One. They have sent the finest warriors, along with the finest healer.

Think you I thought them fools? I planned for this, remember? Go back to the camp, and hide your trail. I will join you in a moment's time.

The voice, the second voice, was that of a woman! The Masked One a woman? That is a view not shared… thought the Duke as the woman came closer. The man, the second figure, had disappeared.

The Masked One stood over the Duke. Fools they are, to think I will be beat so easily. I must teach them otherwise… In time. All things come in time…

She backed away and disappeared in to the shadows. Duke Baird sat up, shaking. There had been a sense of power about the Masked One, a sense of control. Not just physical, such as the control she had shown over her follower, but magical control. He stood and went to Raoul's tent to join the latest meeting, hoping against hope that it had been the last encounter he'd have with their newest enemy. Even though he knew it would not be the last.

Back in her own camp, the Masked One took off her cloak and demi-mask, waving a hand above her head in the air. A wave of blue-grey Gift swept over her. In moments the cloak was gone and she had changed into a dark green dress and lighter shift under it. She hung her cloak up on a tree before entering the make-shift camp.

"Taren! Did you tear them up?" questioned one of her followers.

Taren laughed. "Nay, not yet. It'd take the fun out of all the raids, don't you think?"

The others laughed with her as they made a place open for her beside their small fire. At once each spoke up to give their piece of news. She laughed again and held up a hand. "Quiet! Now, one at a time, each of you tell me your news."

One by one they gave their news, bits of information concerning the knights and fighters, rituals to be performed in the nearest Bazhir tribes, and other news considering their followers who had stayed behind.

She nodded now and then, eating her own food and listening intently. When they finished, she gave what she knew.

"We will have to be careful. We are not a large camp, not in the least. We have only enough to stage raids on those nearest to us, and those that have been hit by raiders this past summer end. The group of fighters that follows us includes the King's Own Third Company, the strongest healer, and no less than three knights. If there are more, I did not see nor hear them. They have mages; so have we. We are evenly matched, in our own ways. But, we have what they don't."

A girl around Taren's age spoke up. "Knowledge of the lands."

A man said "Knowledge of the raiders!"

More called out things they had that they figured the King's Own wouldn't. Taren nodded, smiling slightly.

"If it comes to a fight, we must use this knowledge to win. Once we join with the rest of our group, we will be more than them, but we must still be careful. Now, three days hence we will be meeting our raiding brother tribe, the Chanruns ((pronunciation: Shanruns)). I expect you treat them cordially, even in my slight absence as I show their leader our followers. Mayhaps they will pay us for this knowledge."

The others smiled. Everyone nodded slightly, knowing that, though the Chanruns were their opponents in trade, this was for the best.

Taren stood, having finished her meal. "Come, let's get our rest now, while we still have a chance."

Following her example, they walked away and went to bed silently, hiding in the shadows. Taren sat at the edge, smiled, and slept.

Duke Baird told the others what he had seen and heard. Every one listened intently. When Duke Baird related the nature of their speaking, and repeated what had been said, it was Raoul who spoke.

"She spoke like a noble," he said softly. "But not Tortallan…" He shook his hand. "This used to be simple," he complained.

"Probably a lot more boring, too," said Kel, grinning at her former Knight master.

Joren sat back. "Do we know her plans?" he asked. "Do we have any knowledge of whatever group she's traveling with?"

Raoul shook his head. "No. No knowledge at all. This forest has been combed through and through more than fifteen times, and no one has been found."

Zahir thought back to the letter he had received. "She's been attacking Bazhir tribes just before, after, or during rituals, right?"

The other nodded, their attention completely on him.

"Then I have a guess to where she might be next. It might be wrong the first few times, but perhaps she'll get there." He showed them the letter, describing the ceremony of the shaman's child's birth to come up. "For some reason, she attacks more when it's against Shamans. Perhaps this will not be any different."

Everyone began to add their own thoughts, and they seemed more lively. Within an hour they had a new plan and were heading to bed.

Duke Baird looked out through the trees. "Why me?" he asked the empty air.

"Because you're wise," said Kel, heading to her own tent. "Now go to bed." And they did.

Well, there's my new story. Nothing much, just a little drabble. Wanted to do something new. It will be a while before I update any stories, but don't worry; I will, at some point. Have fun reading and please R&R!

Helka