ShouldBe Forgotten Memories

by Icey the Fox

This is a tale of mystery, of intrigue, of old hates, new conflicts, of jelousy, and combat. Most of all, this is a tale of one lost halfling, trying to find himself in a strange world...

The mountainside was windy and cold, bare of everything but a small wagon, its occupants and its entourage. They marched forward despite the cold, and the wagon rolled on, pulled by a strong brown pony. They struggled along, fighting the wind and keeping wary eyes peeled for danger. For the wind was not the only danger of this pass; there were many orcs that patrolled the area as well.

They were marching on a small path which jutted out from the edge. On the one side was a wall of solid rock, the other a sheer drop. Wind swept along it, threatening to push them into the rock face. As they struggled along, one of their group kept calling encouragement to the rest. He was taller than the usual human, and with his long cloak whipping behind him in the wind it was easy to see the sheathed broadsword on his belt. There were two others with him, one a stout dwarf by the look of him, the other short and thin.

Soon they came upon a bend, and all three breathed sighs of relief. This last part of the section of path they were on would take them in between two of the mountains in the chain, sheltering them from the wind. But as they rounded the corner, all three stiffened. In front of them, a figure stood with his back to them, a spear in his right hand, held diagonally behind his back so that the blade pointed down. His cloak whipped around him as he surveyed the path. Then he turned to the other three, and they breathed another round of sighs. The man was of normal height, and broader than usual shoulders. He wore a sturdy leather breastplate, with a rose of white emblazoned upon it. This was Tepprin, the forth member of their little group.

He nodded to them, then said quietly, "There're fresh orc tracks here. Made at latest half an hour ago."

The tall man quickly drew his broadsword, as the dwarf pulled out a battleaxe and the smaller human ran to the wagon and said something to its occupants. After a quick conversation with whoever was in it, she nodded and returned, a twin pair of long daggers in her hands.

"He wants to keep going," she said bluntly, and the other three nodded to her. Quickly, all four made a defensive circle around the cart.

Tepprin stood at the lead, clucking softly to the pony. He appeared relaxed; using his spear as a walking stick, walking at a comfortable pace. But truly, his eyes were racing around, and his heart beating at a furious pace. This pass was notoriously well known for the high orc population. Only the year before he had been ordered to find the remains of a caravan that had gone missing in the pass, then bring back as many survivors as possible. When he had found them, he had had to fight orcs for every inch to get to them. When he had finally reached them, there were fifty left. They had then had to fight back out. When they at last escaped the pass, only he and five others had survived.

Now he stood on that pass again, knowing that this time it was not a bunch of strangers whose lives depended on his skills: it was his friends'.

As they rounded another curve in the path, with the two mountains stretching away on either side of them, Tepprin saw something to his right. He spun around to face it, and let out a cry of dismay as he saw an orc held a small hand crossbow to the head of the dwarf. The man with the sword and the woman with the daggers instantly turned to look. The orc regarded them with a cruel grin on his lips, his dark red eyes gleaming with glee.

Then it said in a guttural and choppy version of common, "If you leave the wagon and those inside, I'll let the four of you live." As he finished speaking, he let out a yell in the language of orcs, and about forty orcs appeared from the trees around them. Where had all of them come from?

All four knew that surrendering their charge was no option. It was their sworn duty to deliver the one in the wagon. The other three looked at the dwarf. He didn't notice. He just gazed up at the orc.

"Ye know, I don't think it'll be workin' like that," he said simply. Then, without warning, he swung around his battleaxe, letting out a battle cry. There was a noise like a meat cleaver slamming into cold flesh, and the twang of a crossbow string. Everyone looked on at the orc with the axe embedded in its stomach, and the dwarf with the crossbow bolt sticking out the side of his head. Then both collapsed into the dust, and the silence was broken by two roars. One came from the orcs as they charged at the remaining three fighters. The other came from the three, as they yelled for their fallen companion and sprung into action.

The man with the broad sword charged forward, consumed with rage. The orcs he charged raised their shields in a futile attempt to defend themselves. At the last moment, he spun to the side in a practised movement, and the woman with the daggers flew past him, slipping in between two startled orcs and stabbing them in their backs. Quickly she reversed her grip, pulling out the two daggers and spinning around to face the other orcs who had suddenly started paying attention to her. As they advanced, one cried out as the man with the broad sword removed its head from its shoulders.

At the first hint of action, Tepprin shoved one foot into one of the pony's stirrups and slapped it across the rump. The beast charged forward, with Tepprin hanging off its left side, his spear stabbing at any orcs that tried to get in the way of the wagon. As it broke through the final line of orcs, Tepprin spun around slightly, hoping that the pony wouldn't panic at what he was about to do. He placed his right foot on its rump, then, detaching his left foot from the stirrup, pushed off and vaulted over the wagon with his spear. He landed surprisingly lightly on the other side in a fighting crouch, ready for action.

As he had suspected, there were already orcs running after the wagon. He leaped forward, the spear held horizontally out in front of him. In this fashion, he tackled down the lead orc, allowing it to be trampled by its fellows. Then he began a twirling, spinning dance with the spear, slashing at anything that got too near. Many orcs fell before him as he cut at their vital areas. During one lull in the battle, Tepprin managed to look up long enough to see the man and the woman surrounded by orcs, performing their own dance of death. Then he had to get back into the battle, as another orc charged him.

As Tepprin battled his new adversary, the other two across the road from him were having their own problems. The two were doing quite well, but the woman had spotted an orc pointing at them and chanting. As she ducked beneath the man's broadsword in a manoeuvre practised to perfection, she tossed one dagger in the air, caught by the tip, and then whipped it at the orc. The orc, a female, stopped chanting just long enough to grab another orc right next to her and throw it in the way. The woman cursed quietly, then went back to the battle just long enough to stab another orc in the face. When she looked up, the orc-mage was reaching the climax of her casting. Without a second thought, she tackled her partner over to the side.

Tepprin had just finished another orc. He looked up for a moment just as a giant flash blasted through the sky. Tepprin closed his eyes and threw his hands out in front of him. Around him he heard screams of agony, human screams, and screams of fear, orc screams. When he opened his eyes, Tepprin saw the area where his friends had been fighting a moment before was now nothing but a charred streak across the ground.

But he only had a split second to look in horror. A moment later, the sonic boom of the explosion hit Tepprin, sending him careening backwards onto the ground. As he landed, he heard chanting a few feet away, then his vision was flooded with darkness, and he knew no more.

Chapter 1: A Beginning

The morning came early for the recruits of the Eltairre military. The sun hadn't risen yet when the training master had roused them. They had grumbled and complained, but all had obeyed and were now out of the city gates, their weapons and armor strapped on in their most comfortable positions. Most had a simple leather breastplate, a sword stuck into their belt and a shield strapped to their off arms. All their breast plates and shields had a white rose painted on them; the white rose of Eltairre.

The recruits had been instructed before they left to keep as quiet as possible. Though many of them were having trouble with that command, one recruit had caught the drill sergeant's eye. The main way the training master, Krull, a tall well muscled man who kept a powerful bastard sword at his side and wore a heavy breastplate, marked them on this part of their examination was if he heard their voice or if they made a sound. Krull had once been a great marksman, adventuring with the greatest of heroes, so he could tell their individual footsteps apart. So far, none of the others had been able to disguise the sounds of their feet at all, but one recruit, who went by the name of Felbur, hadn't made a sound since they'd left the town. Every now and again Krull had to actually check back to see if Felbur was still with them. He was always there of course; his two shortswords with curves at their tips sheathed comfortably at his hips, his chain mail shirt worn comfortably under the green cloak he kept which had the white rose of Eltairre on it, and his constantly bracer-covered wrist. His grey eyes were always roving around the area, checking on everything. Krull was impressed, but there was more than just moving silently involved in this examination.

He stopped suddenly, and the twenty or so boys behind him stopped in time. They stood at the edge of a valley, which formed a bit of a dip in the landscape. When there was lots of rain, it would fill up and become a lake. But this hadn't happened in ten years, so there was a good collection of small bushes and short trees in the area.

Slowly he turned around to look at them all, then said in a low voice, "This has been the first part of a test. A test that many of you are, at this point, failing." Groans sounded around the area. Krull continued on, undaunted, "Now comes the second part. I'm going to divide you into four teams of five. You will each have five minutes to scatter, discuss battle plans, or do whatever you will. During those five minutes, you must also place guards on your weapons so that you won't kill each other. At the end of that time, I'll blow a whistle, and you'll be allowed to start the battle. However," he added, as some recruits began sighing in relief at the easy assignment, "you'll have one strict penalty. If I can hear you from where I'll be surveying the field, I'll call out your name and you're out of the fight. One last thing: per usual, if you cheat, I'll know. If you are hit by an enemy, you drop where you stand. Melee weapons only." He finished, then proceeded to divide them into different teams. He tried to keep the teams as balanced as possible, but he could already almost tell who would win. There were about nine recruits who stood out as good fighters, so team three had three of these while the others only had two.

Finally, he was finished, and he blew the whistle, starting the five minutes of planning. He watched all of them in turn with an enchanted spyglass as they each went to their different bases of choice. He first turned to team one, made up of three boys who already had their shields and swords out and two others who wielded spears. From what Krull could hear and see with the aid of his spyglass, he guessed that they were making their base around a large tree. Krull already knew that they would be in trouble; that tree had no cover around it, and sound would carry easily from that position should fighting break out near it.

Next, he turned to team two, made up of some of the more exotic fighters in their group. One held a spear, another two hand axes, two others had knives, and one had the usual sword and shield. They were hiding in the underbrush, sketching out battle formations. Krull knew that they wouldn't get far with battle formations in this exercise; if they all fought at the same time, he would definitely hear them and they would lose.

Team three was, to Krull's surprise, sitting around joking. Even though they did have three of the better fighters it wasn't a reason to act arrogant. This exam needed planning. Four of this group had swords and shields, but one of the better fighters bore a curious staff with a blade about the length of someone's forearm at either end.

Finally, team four, which included Felbur, was crouched amongst underbrush quite a distance away from the rest. At first Krull thought that they meant to wait out the fight until the other three teams were exhausted, but then noticed that Felbur was speaking in earnest with his four companions. He seemed to be telling them that they should break into two groups of two and circle around to surround the others, while he went on his own. They seemed to have a good strategy, but it was risky. If any of the three parties were caught, then there would likely be an ambush waiting for them. Three in his group had shields and swords, while one, like Felbur, carried two swords.

Checking the time, Krull realised that the five minutes were already up. He pulled out his whistle and blew hard into it, putting his spyglass away as he did. He watched the different teams putting their plans into effect. Team one seemed more intent on just guarding their base than anything else, while teams two and three were already advancing, team two in a well formed pentagon formation, team three just walking along, looking comfortable and confident. He saw the first two members of team four circling around to the east, while the second two started for the west. He couldn't see Felbur anywhere.

After about three minutes, the first battle broke out. Team two rushed in on team one from behind, and one sword bearer from team one quickly fell as he blocked one knife with his sword and another slipped past his shield to touch his throat. The defeated recruit threw himself to the ground to show that he was dead, and the battle began in full. As the two teams clashed, Krull distinctly heard two smacking sounds. He instantly identified it as a spear wielder from team one double blocking team two's axe fighter. Krull yelled out as loud as possible, "Hembay and Gwest, you're both dead!" The two instantly fell to the ground without a second thought.

After about thirty seconds of watching this, Krull figured that team two would win so long as they kept quiet. He turned his attention to team three's cocky march. One sword wielder, considered by many the best in the class, was walking a bit behind the others. As he watched, something quickly came up from behind a bush and, to Krull's utter amazement, covered the straggler's mouth and then pulled its guarded shortsword across his neck. Then, without a sound, the figure, whom Krull had identified as Felbur by now, fell back behind the bush and disappeared.

It took a moment for the rest of the team to realise that one of their group had fallen. One called out without thinking for their missing companion, and Krull yelled to him, "You're dead, Peller."

Now, with only three members left, the team seemed to grow worried. They searched around themselves in fear, expecting an attack at every corner. Just when it seemed that none would be coming, the first of team four's two groups arrived on the scene. This group consisted of two wielding shields and swords. The remaining two sword- and shield-wielders on group three sprang forward instantly, matching the other two blows for blows, blocks for blocks. The remaining fighter with the double bladed staff was about to join in, when he stiffened, as though hearing something and spun around to find the second of the two groups running at him. He instantly brought up his staff to block the two swords of the first fighter, then spun around him to elbow the second fighter in the face. As he completed the spin, he brought his staff down and around so that it rested against the back of the fighter with the two swords and the stomach of the shield and sword fighter, who was clutching his face in pain. Then, the staff wielder ducked and twirled his staff so that it knocked both of them over in opposite directions.

As he spun around to finish the sword and shield user, he found his staff blocked by two shortswords with curves at their tips. He looked up into the eyes of Felbur, then they launched into battle.

Krull nodded his silent approval of the tactics of team four. They had split up to attack the enemy at both sides and had gotten one man in place to protect the others should anything go wrong. After watching a bit longer, he turned his attention back to teams one and two. Team one was completely destroyed; all lay on the ground around the tree. With them were the double axe wielder and the sword and shield fighter of team two. After a moment, he spied the remainders of the team making their way towards the current battle. They were taking a very direct route. Krull guessed that should team four finish their adversaries soon, they'd be able to set up a good enough ambush for them.

Meanwhile, Felbur had just finished the staff fighter, and his two companions he had saved got up. The three charged to the aid of their remaining sword and shield user, his companion having already fallen. Within moments they had finished off team three, having them outnumbered and out skilled. Krull watched, and was impressed that none of them had made any loud noises as of yet. He watched as the four remaining members of team four split up again the same way as last time. This time though, Felbur stayed behind with the sword and shield wielder who was now without a partner, explaining something to him. Then the two split up, heading towards team two in different directions.

As Krull watched, team two assumed a new battle stance, this time with the knife and the sword users circling slowly, propeller like, around the spear wielder. The two teams were moving towards each other slowly, trying to be as stealthy as possible. Team two was walking through low underbrush when Krull noticed something strange. There were two disturbances in the underbrush; ripples in the bushes. The two ripples moved slowly towards team two slowly but steadily from opposite sides. When the two who were circling the spear wielder came beside the two ripples, they struck. Felbur and the sword user, who seemed to have lost his shield at some point, lunged forward out of the grass. Felbur preformed the same move as he had on team three's straggler, pulling it off without a single flaw on the sword and shield user. His counterpart, however, slipped his hand and missed his target completely. Before he had time to recover, two guarded knives were stabbed at his chest. The sword user fell down without a sound. Now Felbur had two foes to fend off while his two partners caught up to him.

A spear came at him low, and he hopped to the side, parrying the two knives with his two swords at the same time. Felbur ducked as the spear came at him again, this time stabbing at his head. He then had to roll to the left as the knives stabbed down at him. As he rolled, Felbur sent his legs up to either side of the spear, then twisted them as hard and fast as possible, still rolling. In this manner, he knocked the spear from hands that held it. Felbur came back up in a crouch, the spear on the ground between his feet. His two opponents looked at him for a moment in shock, but nevertheless were about to attack him in his awkward position.

That is, they were until the remaining two members of team four rushed up behind them, and both were finished within seconds.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The recruits' marks were handed out the next day. As expected, team four scored the highest by far. Most of the others had failed the assignment, or only just passed. The marking standard for the recruits was never a sure thing. Almost every recruit had failed one assignment. The tests themselves varied greatly as well, as did the equipment allowed for each test. It was in this fashion that the recruits would be selected for different areas of the Eltairre military.

Felbur was currently lying on his bed in the male recruits' barracks. Many of the others were off talking, or practising, or playing; whatever other kids of his age did. He didn't usually do much once he got back from the last meal of the day. A few of his comrades would sometimes invite him to do things, but he never even responded. He just lay there, submerged deeply in his own thoughts. Many found this strange, for he could probably do anything he wanted. He was considered the second best fighter out of the male recruits, and was the favourite of many of the commanders. But, try as they might, no one ever seemed to be able to communicate with him off the battlefield.

He enjoyed his time alone. He didn't really trust anyone anyways. He had joined up with the military under strange conditions; walking into the registration office the day before training was to start and paying for his tuition with coins from his money bag. He'd never revealed his age to anyone, though many of his companions believed him to be a few years younger than the others, aged from seventeen to twenty. He was the shortest of their group, standing at a height of only four feet, three inches. He wore his hair, which was a curious grey-brown, almost green colour, down to his shoulders.

He stopped slumping suddenly, his thoughts disturbed by a sudden cramp in his back. Getting up, he decided to go for one of his rare walk. As he walked out of the barracks' main entrance, he bumped into Peller, Cuwel and Drest, three of the members of team three, whom were walking into the barracks. He'd intended to just walk past them, but one grabbed his shoulder and threw him against the outer wall of the barracks. As he smacked face first into the wall, he brought his hands up in front of him and pushed off, so that he spun around to face the three.

They stood there, Drest in the center, Peller on the left, and Cuwel on the right. For a moment there was silence. Then Drest, the one whom Felbur had snuck up on and removed first from the team, said quietly, "You're going to pay for that stunt you pulled yesterday." Drest and the other two stood there for a moment, waiting for the response.

None came. Felbur just stood there, staring at them. Finally, Peller yelled at him, "Well?" But he got no response.

Felbur stared at them a moment longer, then asked in a quiet, almost bored voice, "You boys waitin' fer somethin'?"

The three stood, staring at him for a moment, then Cuwel said, "Come on guys, let's just beat him around a bit and then lea-"

He never finished the sentence. Felbur hit him full in the chest with a flying tackle, knocking him over. Felbur ducked under the expected fist that came from Drest. A foot, Drest's, came forward and smashed into Felbur's face as he came down. Sprawling backwards, Felbur landed on his bottom, then quickly rolled over onto his feet. His nose was bleeding, but he just wiped the blood from his face with his bracer-covered wrist as Peller came running at him. The other boy obviously meant to tackle him, so Felbur ran forward and crouched just before Peller hit him, flipping the taller boy over his back.

Felbur stood back up, staring Drest, now the only one of the original three still standing, straight in the eye. Drest's face was completely emotionless. Peller began picking himself up, but Felbur simply placed a foot on his back and pushed him back down.

Finally, their stare broke as another trainee walked towards them. Felbur took his foot off Peller's back, then walked away quickly without making a sound. He kept walking for awhile, going around the grounds and continuing to wipe the blood from his nose. It didn't feel broken, but it still hurt quite a bit. As he walked passed one training arena, he stopped, and looked onto the field. There was one figure standing on the field, a long scimitar in her hand. She seemed to be doing a dance, but Felbur could easily see the way that the blade flew around in her hands, and could also tell how easily most foes would fall to that 'dance'. Because he never spoke with anyone outside of training, which the boys and girls did separately, he had never met this strange, and obviously skilled, girl. He watched her for awhile, admiring her battling skill.

Suddenly, she stopped, and looked straight at him. It startled him, but he didn't think much of it. That is, he didn't, until she said, "What're you looking at?"

He was quiet for a while, both because he was shocked, and because he had to consider the question. What was he doing? He never left the barracks, and now the first night he'd ever done so, he'd broken his strange detachment by first getting in a fight with the others, and now watching this strange girl practising. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he said, "Just watchin' yer style."

She looked at him for a moment, before saying quietly, "Want to practise?"

After pausing long enough to think, he nodded, then climbed over the fence and walked over to the center of the field. He pulled out his two shortswords, their curved tips flashing in the setting sun. She stood waiting for him, leaning casually on the scimitar as though it were a walking stick. Then she lifted the blade, holding it in a ready position, and they began.

It started with simple attacks and blocks, relatively slow and measured. She stabbed forward cautiously, and Felbur's left sword knocked it to the side. His right came forward at her unprotected side, and she spun easily out of the way, the dodge seeming slow and elaborate. He smiled as she finished the spin; this was going to be fun.

"…What's… yer name?" asked Felbur as he ducked under a stab aimed for his head.

"I'll tell you if you can… beat me!" she answered, pulling a backwards summersault to avoid a double horizontal chop from the shortswords.

They continued their dance, slowly speeding up as the sun sunk lower and lower in the sky. Had anyone come along, all they would have seen were two black silhouettes, contrast to the sun's blood red glow, steel reflecting a bright white light. They could each tell that should either one of them win, it would not be easy.

Soon the two were going at a furious pace, battling each other back and forth across the field. At one point, Felbur charged forward with a wild series of stabs, putting the girl full on the defensive and blocking each blow in turn. As soon as his momentum stopped, she responded by starting a spinning attack, moving forward in a pirouette of death. The blade came at him from several heights, each time managing to block the slash.

But they could not keep up the pace. After what seemed like only a few moments of battle, they were both breathing hard and laboriously. Finally, Felbur thought he had an opening. His sword flew through the apparent gap in her defences. He stopped the thrust short, so that it just touched the skin of her neck, but was surprised to find the cold feeling of steel touching his own neck.

She stared at him the same way he knew that he stared at her. They had both expected the other to win. It took a moment for the two of them to realise that they hadn't lowered their swords. As the blades came away from each other's necks, she nodded to him. He was about to do the same, but she just ran to the fence surrounding the field, and leapt over it, still running.

Felbur watched her go, speechless. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he did know that this definitely would not be their last such duel.

Chapter Two: A Tragedy

The three of them walked into the commander's office. He was a strong half-orc named Feng, and he was a greatly respected barbarian from the northern mountain tribes. At his side as always was a well made mace, and hanging on the wall was a beautifully crafted lance, which seemed more a work of art then a weapon. A shield that seemed eternally strapped to his left arm had the white rose of the Eltairre military emblazoned upon it. The fangs that were the main identifying feature of a half-orc were much less predominate in his face, and the also racial snout was small and hardly recognisable, making him look almost like a human, if not for his height and bulk. His eyes, however, were a blood red colour which had the tendency to glow when it was dark. One eye had a long scar across it, and there were many other scars which covered his slightly bent form. A few burn marks could be found on his forearms, no doubt caused by magic.

The three who entered his office were a few of the best soldiers he had. The trio were members of his long patrol, and he held them in his highest respect. However, the usual forth member of their group was missing, and permanently so. Delvek, the ranger who usually worked with them, was dead. He had been killed while searching for information on a missing squad who also came from Eltairre. Now these three, who in truth were also good friends of his, stood before him telling them of their partner's death, and how the orcs had sent back his head to them. Feng was saddened by Delvek's death, but still kept up his stoic act of being completely emotionless.

The first of the three who stood before him was a tall elven druid. His name was Kalief, and few knew of his origins. His clothes sometimes made people feel uncomfortable. He wore a pair of torn and battered pants on his legs, which were tied at the top with a piece of rope for a belt. On his torso was ragged tunic that he could have done up, but he always kept it open anyways. He also wore the thick white fur of a winter wolf, which he had killed on one of his many adventures. In the fur of the winter wolf, a white rose was painted. His hair was long and brown, running down to the middle of his back, and his bangs hung down into his eyes. At his side lounged a large cougar named Farsest. Kalief had met her while adventuring alone in the northern mountain chain known as the Worm's Teeth. Ever since they had met, the large cat followed him everywhere, and everyone else had just gotten used to seeing the cougar around the city. On either of Kalief's shoulders was a crow, one named Kes, the other Sek. He had found the two of them as hatchlings while surveying the damage to a forest during a hurricane. He had taken the two back to Eltairre, and now they served him willingly and faithfully. His team often used them for delivering messages between them and Eltairre. Kalief leaned on a gnarled old staff, which while looking quite frail, was actually strong enough to knock over a fully grown barbarian.

Beside him stood a halfling, her dark brown braided hair pulled back into a ponytail. All over her person were sheathes, each one filled with a dagger. At each of her hips were two longer daggers which crossed behind her back, there were two daggers sheathed inside of each of her sleeves which were extremely curved and slightly shorter than the other two, at her leg was a dagger designed perfectly for throwing, and in her boot was a smaller and sharper dagger than the rest which was coated in poison. Feng held her in the highest regard, both for her fighting prowess and her great adventuring experience. Many who fought her lost not because of her unbelievable skill, but because they all thought the small halfling would be a pushover. However, her small form was wiry, and her unbelievable agility made her almost impossible to hit. Many had died at Verna's collection of daggers before they'd even had a chance to attack.

Seated next to her was a strong woman with short hair who looked as though she had been crying for a long time. This was Sara, a strong willed monk who was the one who had worked the most with their now dead ranger friend. There were many scars and huge amounts of callus on her fists, despite her gauntlets which were on the table, but aside from that there was nothing to suggest her military past. She wore a loose shirt and baggy pants that had many pockets and straps. Shoved into these were several throwing knives and shurikens. She was very precise with these when she had to be, but usually her fists and her feet finished any opponents before they could get far enough away. Her red eyes, while still sad, were determined nevertheless.

"I guess that the three of you want to go back in there and avenge him, right?" Feng asked as he looked around at the three of them. They had been speaking for the past ten minutes, but it seemed that the hold time that Sara had been holding something back.

The three team mates nodded.

Feng sighed, wishing he didn't have to say this. "I can't let you do that. Regulations state that you must have an expert ranger with you to aid in case you get lost."

Sara stood up abruptly, her chair skittering back and falling over. "What do you mean by that! There must be another ranger somewhere, on another team maybe that could take his place?"

Feng was shaking his head before she was even finished. "Every other team is already out on assignment. All we've got in Eltairre right now are you three, the recruits and the local militia.

As he finished, Verna looked up and asked, "Couldn't we use a recruit?"

"I won't risk it. We've already lost at least one expert ranger in that pass, and possibly Tepprin's entire team," Feng said, his firm with finality. "I refuse to send a recruit into that."

Sara was about to yell back at him, but Kalief placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into her seat. He looked Feng in the eye, and said with a grin on his lips, "If the recruits' trainer were to allow it as field experience, would we be aloud to bring one along with us?"

Feng met his eyes squarely, then said in response, "Only if commander Krull were to give his permission, with full knowledge of what the recruit was being sent into."

Kalief held the stare for a few more moments, then broke it off, saying as he did, "Everyone, let's go."

Verna helped Sara up as best she could, while Farsest stood up and stretched. They all walked to the door, and then they were gone.

Feng collapsed back down into his chair before cursing quietly to himself. This wouldn't go well.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The three walked onto the training field where the recruits were battling back and forth around the area. Krull was standing at one corner, yelling out tips and encouragement to the different trainees. As the sun beat down upon the trainees, no one noticed a crow fly over to where Krull stood on the opposite side of the huge field. It dropped down to land on his shoulder, much to his surprise. He recognised the bird, but hadn't seen it for a few months. His eyes followed the bird as it flew back to the field's entrance. They lit up as he saw the three figures standing there.

"Recruits," he bellowed after a moment of standing there and smiling. "Take a break! Very good work." He added, as they started walking away.

As soon as they had all left the field, Krull ran across the arena to his old friends. The smile on his lips died as he saw the looks on their faces. His paced slowed as he approached, until he stopped just in front of them.

"What's wrong?" He asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Delvek is dead." Sara muttered bluntly, her voice dull.

Krull was staggered by the sudden news, both mentally and physically. He had fought beside Delvek often, and the two would often be found sparring together when he was in the city. They had been good friends, and while his relationship with him was nowhere near as close as that of Sara's, he had known Delvek better than most of the others in their little group.

It wasn't the first time that one of their friends had died or left them permanently, of course. They had been adventuring for over a decade, and deaths were inevitable. There had been Gersack, a powerful high elven necromancer who had been considered the most intelligent person on the continent. His people had rejected him for the nature magic, but Gersack had just joined up with the magic division of the Eltairre military. The wizard had died defeating a pair of red dragons which had been attacking a small mountain village. He lived on in legends and stories, with the title of the Twin Dragon. Also, there was Ennui, a half-elf who was the closest thing Delvek had ever had to family. His nickname was Quicksilver, because of his strange obsession with silver weapons. His weapon of choice was a powerful crossbow with a trademark quiver of silver bolts. His skills with the crossbow, however, didn't come close to his real specialty; Ennui was a psion who specialised in the telepathic arts. His skills were so great, that they had drawn the attention of a subterranean tribe of illithids, who were looking for a contact to the surface. When the illithids' messenger asked him if he would take up the post, Ennui had agreed immediately. His work took him all over the vast the world, and often enough underground, so he was quite rarely in the town. They still saw him sometimes, but not often.

After a few moments of standing there with another uncomfortable silence in the air, Kalief cleared his throat. Krull turned to looked at him.

"He was killed in the pass through the Teeth," Kalief informed him, referring to the Worm's Teeth mountain chain. "We were sent in to find out what happened to Tepprin's team. Delvek decided to scout ahead a bit the night before we were planning on going in. When we woke up the next morning we found his head in the camp."

Krull's head had slowly drooped down as Kalief was telling him the tale. He looked up now, his dark brown, almost red eyes, glinting.

"Are you going back out there?" he demanded, looking each of them in the face. "If you are, I'm coming with you. Delvek would ha-"

"No," Verna interrupted, looking way up at him to gaze into his eyes, "you need to stay here; there wouldn't be enough soldiers to defend the city if you left."

Krull paused, looking down at her. He nodded, his face set with annoyed acceptance. He turned away to call the recruits back, but a strong grip on his arm turned him back.

"There is a way you could help us," Sara told him, her eyes, still red from crying, bearing into him. "Feng has forbid us to leave the city without a ranger. The only possible rangers in the city are your recruits."

Krull was shocked by the request, and was about to deny that possibility when he stopped to reconsider. He had been speaking to Feng and the other trainers only the day before of Felbur's surprising skill in the wilderness. According to the few rangers Krull knew, it took at least a few years of training for someone to become as comfortable in the forest as Felbur apparently was. Also, Felbur had displayed obvious proficiency with a bow, a trait common among and often taught to rangers. It was the tiniest of possibilities, but it was quite possible that, considering his mysterious past, Felbur might have had previous training as a ranger. Krull thought for a moment more, before responding.

"I might have someone, but you'll have to wait for me to talk with him. Tonight, I think," he added, noticing the exasperated sigh about to escape Sara's lips.

Kalief smiled, then muttered something to Farsest. The two started walking out of the field, promptly followed by Kes. Sek, the crow who had originally flown to Krull stayed with the tall fighter. After watching the three walking away for a second, Verna turned to Krull. "Thanks, and good luck," she said, then looked over at Sara, and whispered to him, "for your own sake. I wouldn't bet on you living long with her in her current mood." Then, she ran to catch up with Kalief.

This left Sara and Krull alone together with Sek. Sara was about to turn and leave, before she told him, "Thank you."

As she walked away, Krull shook his head, and looked at the crow on his shoulder. The recruits were beginning to file back into the field, picking up their weapons and starting to spar again. Sek looked curiously at Krull. He sighed.

"If Felbur doesn't agree to this," he informed the crow bleakly, "she'll kill me."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Felbur stood in the battlefield, the same battlefield in which he had stood in the week before when he had first battled the strange girl. He had come here everyday since then, but the girl and her dancing blade had not returned. He would have asked the other recruits about her, but he knew how they would twist this into something completely out of proportion. So here he stood. Practising different moves in the failing pre-dusk light. He doubted that she would come, but it didn't matter.

He stiffened as he heard a footstep behind him. It was far too heavy to be the girl's, and he could also hear the chink of heavy armor as whoever it was behind them took another step.

Without a second thought, he spun around with both blades in a ready position to face Krull, a crow perched on his shoulder.

At once, both swords dropped to his sides as he dipped a quick bow while Krull finished the last few steps to him.

"Felbur," Krull started, after getting him to stand back up straight, "there's been a request for a recruit with your skills."

Sitting down on a bench and pulling out a cloth, the boy began polishing his swords. "Go on," he said, after a moment of silence on Krull's part.

Krull was shocked by Felbur's response. Most other recruits would jump instantly at any opportunity. But then again, Felbur had always seemed a bit removed from everyone else.

"Look, the reason that I really came here was to find out whether you've had previous training as a ranger."

Felbur's eyes shot up at that comment. Slowly, he sheathed his swords slowly, having finished polishing them. "Why do ye want teh know that?"

Krull considered for a moment, then lunged forward and grabbed Felbur by the front of his cloak, lifting him into the air. "My best friend just died, and my other friends and I want revenge. Now, they need a ranger to go with them or else they're not aloud to go by regulations. So, my question to you is this: will you, or will you not accompany my friends on a mission it is most likely they will never return from?"

As he finished, he realised that Felbur wasn't staring in fear, but glaring him in the eyes. In a movement of pure poetry, he grabbed Krull's huge muscled arm with his small hand, then flung himself over the arm, slipping out of his cloak in the same fluid motion. He landed a few feet away, spinning so that he faced his instructor with both swords out.

Krull was staring at him in awe, the cloak still in his hand. The white rose on it lay against his bare arm, which had just been holding the boy. He had only ever seen two people perform that move before: Delvek and Tepprin, both highly trained rangers.

"I feel betrayed, Felbur," Krull said after he had collected himself, "you've been holding back during training."

"I'm thinkin' that I've got a higher reason fer feelin' betrayed than yeh currently do," Felbur returned, both blades still pointing at the much taller man.

"I'll give you that," he said, laughing to himself. "However, I'm not going to be giving you any more than that until you've told a bit more about yourself."

Felbur's eyes were a mask of defiance. "Me full name be Lonton Fellburrow. If ye can find out a bit more about me from that, I'll tell ye the rest, and I'll accompany yer friends."

With that, in a manner quite close to that the mystery girl had done the week before, Felbur ran to the fence, then hopped over it.

Krull swore in three languages as he watched Felbur running away. He looked over to the crow on his shoulder. "That couldn't have gone much worse."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Verna was in a room. Not a remarkable room. Just a room. Four walls, a door, a few windows leading outside, and a well-built punching-bag in the middle of it. All her equipment, which most members of the Eltairre military usually discarded the moment they got into the city, was strapped to her. She stood with her head looking down a bit, as though meditating.

Without much warning, she suddenly drew the two daggers at her hips. It was as though she hadn't moved, as though the daggers had just magically appeared there. Then, just as quickly as the daggers had appeared in her hands, she lunged forward to stand just in front of the punching-bag. Within a few seconds, she had slashed, stabbed and cut the punching bag in fifteen different places. With a final devastating move, she stabbed both daggers into it horizontally at the same height.

In the same movement, her hands went into either sleeve, and the two curved daggers were out and slashing at the punching-bag. She hit probably at least two dozen times with long but shallow slices. Then, using the daggers as hooks, she plunged them into the top of the bag, pulling herself up and kicking off the bag. She used the momentum to back flip away from the bag.

In midair, her hand flew down to the dagger sheathed at her leg. She drew it, launching it while still in the air. As she landed, the blade cut through the rope holding the bag up. The punching bag crumpled to the floor, now no more but scrap leather.

Breathing heavily, she walked over to the bag and pulled the four daggers from where they were stuck through the leather. As she pulled them out, she sheathed each one with care.

"You didn't use that last dagger," a voice muttered from the window.

Without thinking, she spun around as her throwing dagger materialised in her hand. It flew the distance between her and her target, thudding into the wood next to his head.

"I never see you use that last dagger," Krull said, grinning wolfishly.

Verna sighed, then reached out as the dagger reappeared in her hand. She slid it into its sheath, walking slowly over to the window that Krull was standing at.

"The poison on that dagger is worth twice as much in platinum as you do in copper," Verna said, looking up, far up, at him.

"Walk with me," Krull asked more than told her. "You've been training since you arrived and you need a break."

Verna thought for a moment, then nodded her consent. He offered her his hand, but she just grabbed onto the window sill and hopped more than heaved herself over. She landed lightly on the other side, and the unlikely duo began walking across the grounds.

The sun shone down upon the gigantic city. The huge walls around the city were made of white marble, and were several feet thick. The city almost seemed like some sort of mountain, with all the smaller residential buildings on the outside, the slightly larger, richer buildings nearer to the middle, and tall, wider buildings of the mage's academy and the elected lord's buildings in the center. The headquarters of the Eltairre military were situated on the outskirts of the city, where there were more open spaces and it was easier to gain access to the walls and the main gate leading out of the city.

Krull and Verna strolled around the city, mostly built of marble like the city's walls or other cool stone. It was early summer, and there was a market taking place in one of the streets they passed. The people of Eltairre, mainly human, but also consisting of other varying races, loved their military. The city had stood for over three centuries, and hadn't fallen to any force during that time. The summer was a wonderful time to be in Eltairre, with the markets every week, the almost constant festivities and performances, and the beautiful fruit that the crops produced at this time of year. They greeted and talked with several people as they walked.

They eventually worked their way to the gate, and walked out of the city's gates. The two walked for a while without talking, finding the rocky mountainous terrain easy to manoeuvre. After a while, they stopped to rest on a rocky outcropping jutting off from the mountain whose shadow Eltairre sat in the shadow of.

"So," Verna began after a minute or two of silence, "why did you bring me out here?"

"I've got a problem that requires the assistance of a halfling," Krull told her, unfazed by the fact Verna had picked up on what he'd been thinking about.

"I figured as much," she said, laughing quietly to herself as though at some personal joke.

"The recruit I was thinking of sending with the three of you has turned out to be quite a mystery."

"Aren't all the recruits like that?" she asked seriously. "What makes this one so special?"

He told her about his strange encounter with Felbur the night before, from his athletic feat to the admission of his real name. As the story ended, he considered for a moment. "I thought Lonton Fellburrow seemed like a halfling's name. Do you know anything about a family with that name?"

Verna was quiet for a while, thinking and no doubt having trouble recalling her experiences with her own people. She hadn't spent much time amongst them, her family moving to another city where they had subsequently been murdered. A councillor from that city had taken her in and gotten her the best trainers money could buy, until she had left to learn more on her own. It was still difficult for her to recall anything having to do with her people.

"It sounds more like the name of a tallfellow…" she said quietly, referring to one of the subraces of halflings. Tallfellows were considered as short elves, just as normal halflings were considered short humans. They had most of the traits of elves too.

"He couldn't be a tallfellow, his ears aren't pointed," Krull reasoned.

"If he's a halfling of any kind, he's got pointed ears," Verna told him, touching her own ears, which were slightly pointed at the tops.

Krull conceded the point, "But either way he still doesn't have pointed ears."

"That's easy illusionary magic, it can be easily recharged once a day."

That did surprise Krull. He'd never thought that Verna would know much about magic. When he asked her about it, she informed him that she's received more than just fighting lessons from the councillor.

"So do you think you could find out anything for me about this family?" Krull asked her.

"I'm warning you, it'll take awhile. I recommend you try any other leads you can come up with, but I'll do my best for you."

He thanked her, then she left for the town.

Sitting on the escarpment, he thought for a while, then thought of another possible lead. If Felbur was one of the tallfellows, who were so similar to elves, why did he speak like a dwarf?

Not beginning to understand the mystery he was getting himself into, Krull started heading towards town, and the blacksmith's shop just beside the gate.

Chapter 3: Little Learned

Eltairre was resting for the night, most of its residents tucked away in their homes asleep. The normal bustling streets were deserted, but for the rats and beggars searching for crumbs and scraps in the abandoned food stalls. The alleys, however, were only just beginning their night activities.

One figure walked along, its face covered so that no one could see them properly. The handle of a weapon of some sort could easily be seen protruding from the long dark cloak the figure wore. Anyone of any experience whatsoever could clearly see that this person knew what they wanted in this world of darkness, and could get it if they so desired.

The figure found its way down an alley, across a hardly used street, and into the main base of operations of The Low Mages Guild; a small building with several of the best guards money could buy at the entrance. The guards were nothing, however, compared to they whom the guards were protecting. The Low Mages Guild was one of the most promenent illegal mage associations on the continent. They derived their name as an insult to the High Mages Guild, the guild which ran on the city's payroll and worked alongside the military. Though everyone knew of the Guild's existence, few knew very much about it, for whenever someone got curious about their operations, that someone usually turned up burned alive in some public area in the morning. It took one who was either powerful, rich or insane to try and forge an alliance with this Guild.

But strangely enough, this is what the figure had done, and with hardly any trouble whatsoever.

A pale young man with no hair met her once she was inside the door. He wore long, flowing emerald green robes which covered him completely. The robes no doubt had been beautiful and perfect some time ago, but they were now covered in dark burns and had the acrid smell of sulfur about it, along with the potent stench of years of unwashed sweat. The combination would make most turn away in disgust, but this strange figure simply stood there as though it didn't notice this. The man's name was Restell. He opened his thinly lipped mouth to speak, but was cut off by the stranger.

"I need to deliver a message as fast as possible, and with no possible tracing." The voice was cool and controlled, not distinguishably male or female. The words were said very hard, with the consanants overly stressed. Behind them was the barely concealed threat of violence if they were not listened to.

"Yes milord," Restell said, his voice raspy and ruined from years of exposure to smoke. He was the Guild's alchemist, and he was often setting off accidental explosions and fires in his small dark room.

"Also, see to it that the wizard who delivers this message is never seen again."

"But, milord, our wizards are all specially trained and worth…" his voice trailed off as the stranger's right hand became visible from beneath the cloak, covered in a dark blue mist which pulsed with light.

"Send an apprentice. I can cover the cost of training a new one." When Restell nodded, shaking all over at the sight of that hand, the figure's left hand came forward holding a small pouch and a scroll with an ornate signet mark on it. The figure tossed both to Restell, then turned and walked away.

Restell considered opening the scroll once the figure had left, but thought better of it, shuddering. Not even the Low Mages Guild would be able to protect him if he crossed that one. Instead, he counted out the gold in the pouch, and then went off to find one of the apprentices.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the Towers of the High Mages, one conjurer by the name of Earwen stood in the throes of spellcasting. The room she occupied was decorated with charms and magical artifacts meant for protection. As her chanting approached its climax, a strange waviness appeared in the space before her. The strangeness in the air began taking a definite form as her chanting became more and more frantic. As the moments passed, a definite form was visible, until, as the short elf let out one last shout in a strange language, a magnificent silver dragon stood before her. Terrifying yet wonderful, the dragon looked down at her. Wisdom and rage were in its eyes as it stared at the elf who had summoned it.

"Why have you called upon me, she-elf?" it asked in the tongue of the dragons, looking way down at her.

"I require information about a tribe of tallfellow halflings you were reported to have been seen with in the Forests of Mists," she told it in the same language. Her eyes were wide with wonder, but in her mind several protection spells were still ready just in case.

"Who told you that?"

"I prefer to keep my informants' names to myself," she said, hardly believing that she was speaking so disrespectfully to a dragon.

While it seemed to be slightly shocked by the fact that someone knew that it had been with a tribe of tallfellows, the dragon easily kept its composure. "Well yes, I was with the tribe, though it wasn't just tallfellows; there were also quite a few elves with them. What do you need to know about them?"

"Was there a family of tallfellows with the name Fellburrow there?"

"No, they weren't there," the dragon said. As Earwen's head dipped slightly, the dragon continued, "But they did talk a bit about a family that used to live there known as Fellburrow."

At these words, her eyes lit up, and she looked up at the dragon, asking as she did what became of them.

"The news isn't good, I'm afraid. It was many years before I came, when Gresen and Rala Fellburrow had left the woods for a while. Their son Lonton and their daughter Belladonna had stayed behind with the rest of the tribe. The two hadn't returned for a day, so a search party was sent out. When the party returned, they said that the two had been slaughtered by a band of orcs. They brought back the mother's scimitar and the father's custom swords to prove it; apparently they were curved shortswords which no one else in the tribe used. The swords were given to young Lonton, the scimitar to Belladonna. In the morning, both had disappeared from the camp without a trace."

Earwen let out a breath, then asked quietly, "Does anyone know what might have happened to them?"

"There are those who believe that they went into the mountains after the orcs, but none are sure."

"Well, thank you for your information," she said politely. "One last thing; are there any dwarven clans in the area?"

The dragon seemed to be thinking for a moment, then it muttered "The closest would be in Mount Cutect, but that is still quite a distance away."

Earwen again offered the dragon her thanks, then dismissed it.

After the silver dragon had disappeared, Earwen groaned and staggered back against the wall. She was shaking slightly, and she felt extremely cold. After a moment, she yelled out, "You can come in now!"

A door, hardly visible in the opposite wall, opened, and Verna stepped through it. She walked over to the elf, then helped her up as best she could. When she was finally up, they walked slowly out of the room. Verna had come over to the tower earlier that afternoon and told her all about the predicament. This was the twelfth such summoning they had done over the past several hours, thus Earwen was completely exhausted and out of all the many magics she normally kept ready.

"Was that the one?" asked Verna once they were both seated in Earwen's room in the tower.

Smiling, she said, "Yes, finally it was."

Verna let out a long breath. She had used all her previous knowledge of tallfellow camp and tribe locations, which they had then used in cross reference with another wizard's knowledge of silver dragons' nesting places. It was well known to many adventurers nowadays that silver dragons often assumed the forms of elves and lived among them for extended periods of time. Thus they had reserved a room designed for summons, and begun their long and draining work. When Earwen was finished telling the halfling of what the dragon had said, Verna seemed lost in thought for a moment.

She looked up at her conjurer friend, then muttered, "Well that part's done then. I'd better go tell Krull about this, he might be able to get something else out of Felbur with it."

She got up and turned to leave. When she was at the door, Earwen called over to her, "Oh, I won't be around for a few days, so if you need anything, go and see Celebrial about it."

"Where are you going?" Verna asked, nodding her understanding.

"The archmages were looking into something that went missing during a job, you know, the usual thing they call us lesser mages in for," she said, waving her hand at Verna.

Saying that she would tell the others about it and thanking her for her help, the halfling left to find Krull.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Krull was standing on the edge of the training field, not really paying attention to the recruits as they battled. He was too busy considering what Grimwell, the local head dwarven smithy, had told him about dwarven accents. He had never liked the smithy. He always thanked the dwarf for his work fixing the recruits' and his own equipment, and the strength and power of the dwarves who worked there truly astounded him, but the heat and disorganisation of the place put him on edge. When he had showed up, the building was in an uproar, as it always was. Grimwell had just received a large shipment of mithril ore from a local mine, and per usual the dwarves were "debating" over who got how much and who would unload it. When Grimwell had finally finished sorting things out, the dwarf had been happy to speak with him.

According to Grimwell, who had met Felbur before, one couldn't just fake an accent like his; it took years of time in a dwarven community to develop an accent like that. He'd also said that the accent was more suited to the dwarven clans of the South, which worked well with everything else that they knew about tallfellows, who were seen in the South much more often than in the North.

He stood there thinking until a commotion broke out on the other side of the field. Three recruits had circled another and were proceeding to attack him as one while Krull was apparently day dreaming. Shaking his head, Krull called over to them, and began walking over. His work was never done.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

That night, an exhausted looking Verna met up with Krull, Kalief and Sara. She informed them of her and Earwen's long work the night before. They had all been using every resource at hand to attempt to work out this strange recruit's tale. Kalief and Sara had made little progress themselves, but they had sent out messages to several dwarven clans they knew of, asking about two tallfellow halflings.

They sat around a small wooden table in Sara's room at the Eltairre military base. She was situated in the higher levels that the lower ranking officers occupied. It was a fine enough room that she owned, but by the standards of the other officers, it was too simple. All she had was a bed, a chest, a table, and a rack for her gauntlets. It was more than she was used to while out patrolling, which she spent the majority of her time doing. However, the place seemed slightly less kept than usual. Sara, while being simple, needed everything to be perfectly clean. Her comrades thought it weird, seeing as they were used to sleeping in mud at times while out, but that was just how Sara worked.

"So, as far as I see it, we must find out what we can from this tribe in Mount Cutect, and try to ensure that Felbur isn't getting restless. If we take to long I fear he may choose to leave."

"Agreed," Kalief responded without hesitation. "However, I think it might be smart to have someone watching him, so that if he does leave, we can follow him."

Sara thought about it a moment. "I can do it," she finally said. "I'm the best at remaining concealed out of all of us, and I want to see what this boy can do. If he's to be Delvek's replacement, I'm going be sure that he'll live up to our expectations."

"Actually, I had someone different in mind," Kalief was grinning. "Most rangers keep an animal with them, and from what you tell me, this Felbur doesn't seem to have one at present."

"That's true, but we can't quite expect him to find an animal, then get it alone so you can question it."

"But can't we?" asked the druid. To answer the confused expressions of his friends, he brought his hand out from behind his winter wolf cloak. Perched on it was a small eagle, looking around with an air of dignity on its face. They all recognized it at once; it was Rend, the bird that had always accompanied Delvek on his journeys to the wild. They had all assumed that the brave eagle had been killed as Delvek was, but now, as was apparent, they knew this to be false.

"How…" muttered Verna.

"She flew through my window the day we arrived. She was pretty tired at the time, so I didn't want all of you in here bothering her. And no, she doesn't know anything about what happened to Delvek," he said to the question on all of their lips.

There was silence for a few moments, aside from the sound of Rend cleaning herself.

"Well this helps."

There were nods of agreement throughout the group.

"Well, then I guess I'll send you over to him tonight then," Kalief told the eagle, rubbing her behind the head.

Once the bird had flown from the window, they all got up and started leaving. When Verna had made her way towards her room, and Kalief had started for the forest outside of Eltairre, Krull approached Sara.

"The recruits are doing some work on hand to hand combat tomorrow. I was thinking that maybe you could come and help me out with it."

Sara knew that he was just giving her an excuse to come and watch Felbur fight. While normally she didn't like pity, she quickly nodded her consent. She had always been choosy about her partners, and she wasn't about to make an exception for some kid.

Chapter 4: A Second Duel

Revenge.

Laughter.

An explosion.

Darkness.

Caves.

Flight.

Swords.

A white rose.

Tapping.

Fen- tapping?

Felbur sat up in his bed. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and his chest was heaving with each breath. It wasn't the first time he'd had the dream. It was the same every time: Several incredibly fast seconds of images, slowing down every now and again to show him one thing or another. But there was usually no noise.

Then he realised that the tapping noise was still there. Looking around, he saw something's shadow on the window by his bed. Getting up to investigate, he stepped on the hilt of his one of his swords, slipping slightly and only just catching himself before he fell over. Cursing, he stood up, and heard quiet laughter coming from the window. Spinning around to look at the window, he saw that the shadow was gone.

Quickly, he dressed, throwing on his shirt of chainmail and grabbing his swords. Without making a sound, Felbur ran to the door, and was greeted by cool night air as he opened it. Spying a shadow headed for the training field, he took off after it.

Once he reached it, he leapt over the fence and faced the shadow. It was standing on the opposite side of the field, bent over something. A spark flickered, and a torch was lit, illuminating the face of the girl whom he'd battled before. She stood up straight, walking to the center of the field and shoving the end of the torch into the ground, so that it stood up on its own. Then she drew her scimitar, and pointed it at him.

"We have unfinished business."

Smiling, he brought his swords around to point at her, and in the flickering light of the torch, they began.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Crystal couldn't sleep. She too had heard of Delvek's death, and she was a friend of his as well. Crystal hadn't really been as close to him as the others had been, despite having adventured a lot with Kalief and him in her younger days. But she was getting quite old compared to the others, so she didn't do much patrolling anymore; she was instead the training master for the female recruits. While there were those who thought it unorthodox to train the boys and girls separately, it was truly easier to handle them separately than all at once.

There were those that said Crystal was a stricter trainer than even Krull was, what with her reprimand of always waking up every day with the sun and how she always had a duel with at least one the girls every day. However, Crystal hardly did that for their sakes, it was for her own. At forty-five, she was slowing down, and beginning to have trouble keeping up with her old traveling companions. So, she imposed harsh conditions on herself in the hope of delaying her age for as long as possible.

The pale light of the moon lit up her dull brown hair, highlighting the few patches of silver hair growing in. Per usual, her sword, made of the finest mithril and crafted especially for her by Grimwell. It had gotten her through more dangers than she cared to think of, and the effects of the many adventures they'd shared together could be seen on the blade; many notched, yet still sharp enough to slash straight through chainmail.

As she walked, she noticed that there was a light coming from the direction of the battle field. Curious, she ran over to see what was making it. What she saw as she crested the hill took her breath away.

A flickering torch was stuck erect in the sand of the center of the field. It cast shadows all around the field as two figures, appearing as black shadows against the light of the torch, danced around it, occasionally meeting in the center, sending sparks flying from both their weapons and the torch. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Quietly, she sat down to watch on the hill.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

His swords met her scimitar again, and the two of them put pressure on the blades, but only for a moment, before the two disengaged and continued circling. It was one of the greatest fights he'd ever had in his life, having always held back while training and never finding a challenge worthy of him before then.

She leaped forward with scimitar held high, preparing for a vicious downward slash. Felbur span away to the right, raising both swords to double block the sword. He shoved every ounce of his strength into the block for a split second, then, feeling her placing more strength into her blow on instinct, he killed all the power in the block and dived away from the expected stumble. But she had expected it.

As she stumbled forward, the girl threw her weight into the fall, landing on one of her hands. Using the hand as a balance, the girl cart wheeled and kicked out with her left foot. Her heel hit him in the jaw, sending him sprawling over. As she landed on her feet, he rocked back onto his shoulders, then threw himself forward with his elbows, and he too landed easily back on his legs.

Bringing both swords around to point at the girl, Felbur pressed the attack.

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Crystal watched in stunned silence, watching the two as they continued spinning and slashing, neither truly gaining an advantage. For one moment, the figure with two swords was stabbing at the other at least five times per second, each attack driving it back a step, and the next the one with the single sword was jumping right over both swords and swinging for the head, only to find the head had already ducked out of the way.

After one more minute of watching, Crystal shook her head and prepared to walk down. If the two weren't stopped, they'd probably kill each other soon. But as she took the first step down the hill, a gigantic hand came down on her shoulder, holding her in place. With her sword already out of its sheath, she spun around, and almost removed Krull's head from its shoulders.

"Good evening," Krull said as though nothing had happened. In an almost business like manner, he reached up and pushed the blade away from his head.

Crystal nodded to him. It wasn't the first time she had nearly killed him, what with how hard they sparred at times. She sheathed the blade then turned and gestured with her head towards the still engaged combatants. "What do you make of that?"

Krull stepped up beside her and watched for a moment. "I think that that would be the possible replacement for Delvek on Kalief's team, and the other reminds me of that new recruit you were telling me about, that… What was her name?"

"Ann'od," she said. "Ann'od Alleb. Yes, that does seem to look like her, doesn't i-" she stopped suddenly, realising what he's said. "Delvek's replacement? On Kalief's team? No trainee would last a day with them, they only take the jobs that are impossible! What chance does he have?"

Kalief simply nodded back to the two combatants, as Felbur flipped over the torch and landed on his knees at Ann'od's side. He brought both swords around to slash at her hamstrings, but both were parried by the one scimitar. She slid the blade away from his two swords, bringing it chopping for his head. Felbur cart wheeled forward and out of the way, coming up on his feet.

"I know some great veterans who could only dream of fighting like those two are right now."

Watching the two in their dance, Crystal could only agree.

"Do you suppose it would be wise to stop them before they're dead?" Crystal asked, as the two recruits disengaged after another furious charge.

"No, let's watch them a bit longer. This is the best entertainment I've had for three weeks."

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Again she came, again he defended, again he charged, again she avoided. It seemed as though they were destined to go on fighting for eternity. Finally, an opening became apparent, and Felbur charged wildly forward, hoping to end the battle then. What he met, instead of a touch of his sword against her, was her foot in his face.

With that mighty kick, Felbur fell backwards, blood flowing freely from his nose. He was already attempting a defence as he fell, but it wasn't enough. The girl simply slapped both swords out of the way with her scimitar, and brought its tip to his throat.

"You're not as good as I thought," she said simply. He looked up at her with confusion in his eyes. Then her foot smashed into his face again, sending Felbur reeling back into darkness.

"Well that's the end of it, then," Crystal was standing up and brushing herself off.

Krull nodded. "It was spectacular though."

"Are you going to go and wake him up? I doubt that she is going rouse him."

"No, I'm sure he will be fine."

"He's your recruit," Crystal responded, shrugging. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Crystal," Krull said as she walked away, but he wasn't paying attention to her. Could it be coincidence that two apparently young and obviously skilled warriors had come to Eltairre so close to each other? Indeed, there had been the occasional prodigy, but only two that Krull could recall in his years. One had been a young half-elf who up and left years ago, the other was himself.

But two at once? It's unthinkable, he thought, watching the girl extinguish the torch in the sand and walk away.

The two were too good for it to have come naturally; at least one of them had to have had very good training at some point in their careers. And then there was the matter of the equipment they each carried. Krull had gone into Felbur's room the night before to confirm his suspicions: That shirt of chainmail had magical properties. While he didn't have the means to identify it, Krull did have a wand that he had used to discover that it had powers. His cloak, too, seemed strange somehow. Felbur had simply sewn the white rose on it when he came to Eltairre, so it could have had its origins anywhere. Also, An'nod's scimitar did seem quite well made, and as the two had been duelling, Krull had distinctly seen a few bright flashes not made by the sparks of the blades clashing and the fire.

Yes, there was something strange happening in the Eltairre military, Krull decided as he made his way back towards the soldiers' quarters.

Chapter 5: Much Learned

When Felbur awoke, the sun had just begun its long trek across the sky. It took a moment for him to realise that the torch had been extinguished, and that it was actually the sun that was making the small amount of light on the field. He sat up, realising that the night must already be over, that it must already be early morning, and that he needed to get going; the other recruits might be coming to the field for practise at that very moment.

Not stopping to think about the practised action, Felbur rolled forward onto his feet, grabbing his swords which lay at his side as he did so. Standing tall, he experienced a small moment of disorientation from laying down for so long. Then he made his way to the gate, feeling as he walked his nose, which remarkably was yet again unbroken. Getting to the gate, Felbur fumbled with the clasp, before walking out and heading for the barracks.

As he walked, Felbur replayed the previous night's events in his head. He saw now where he had gone wrong: just as before, he had lunged forward at any hope of an opening, abandoning his defence unwisely. Next time, for there would be a next time he was sure, he wouldn't fall for such an, he had to admit, obvious trick.

Lost in his own thoughts, the boy never noticed the root sticking up from the ground in front of him until he'd tripped right over it. Just as before, instinct and practise took over, and he landed with both hands holding up his weight, then rolled over to the side and landed in a crouch. Shaking his head, Felbur stood up, brushing himself off as he did. He was about to keep going, when he heard a strange sort of shreek.

Looking up, Felbur saw for the first time a bird, a hawk of some kind, staring down at him with… amusement? Though the thought seemed impossible, Felbur had seen stranger things in his days. After a moment of apprehension, Felbur raised an arm to the bird, offering his wrist, covered by the bracer which he always slept in. The bird hopped off the branch and glided down easily, landing on his wrist as though she was used to it. That was strange. Felbur had never met a wild bird which would, by choice, come close to a human.

This was unusual enough, but, studying the hawk, Felbur noticed that though although it looked as though it had been recently cleaned and fed, the bird was for the most part quite malnourished, and a look at its feathers showed that the bird had been in many fights with little rest lately.

Despite the recent malnourishment, the bird seemed for the most part to look as though it was quite well taken care of and a closer look revealed that the bird's muscles were strong, certainly stronger than the average bird.

Looking back to the bird's face, Felbur was surprised to find her eyes studying him no doubt as closely as his had been her. There was definitely something disconcerting about those eyes, but he just couldn't seem to place it.

Without warning, the bird shifted a bit on its perch, moving the bracer about a small bit. As the tight fitting leather, came off of his skin ever so little, Felbur, shuddered, and it seemed as though his form shimmered in a very unreal manner. When the bird looked back at him in alarm, Felbur had grabbed the branch of the tree which the small hawk had been perched in, leaning on it heavily. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the tough leather of the bracer as though massaging a pulled muscle.

"Ah, I should really take this'n off more oft'n," he told the bird, who was still looking at him with a strange look of curiosity that should not have been on a bird's face.

Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, Felbur quickly and deftly undid the strings holding the bracer on, and, with another look around, slipped it off. The bird jumped off to allow the boy to remove it more easily, but as she came back down expecting to find his bare wrist, she found only empty air. Staring around, the bird screeched in alarm at what it saw.

There, where a quite short boy had stood a moment before, was now a halfling with all of Felbur's features, but for a set of pointed ears and the obvious fact that he was now only three feet, two inches tall!

The bird drifted down and landed again on his wrist, her talons now able to clasp completely around, so that the two digits were touching underneath the arm.

"Weren't 'spectin' that, were yeh?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

The bird looked, for lack of any better word to describe it, shocked.

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Looking out a window several hundred meters away, a figure stood silhouetted in the morning sun. Seeing the boy shrink over a foot to his current size, it gasped. He was him.

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Yet another figure watched this strange happening from a small distance. Drest was shocked for a moment when he saw the strange event coming out of the barracks, but by now there was a malicious smile on his lips. Finally, he had something over his ever-present, ever-ready rival.

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With a jolt, Felbur realised just how vulnerable he was in this position. Without a second thought, he flicked his wrist, sending the bird back to the air with an undignified squawking noise. Then he slipped the bracer over his wrist, and, still feeling the diziness that came with the transformation, did up the strings along the side of the bracer.

Quickly, he started running for the training field, knowing that everyone would have noticed his absence by that time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Felbur spotted a few others already on the way to the field, and moved so that they would not see him heading for the field. There was no way he would beat them there, unless…

With a quiet murmur in the elven language, his shirt of chainmail began glowing for a moment, then his feet increased their running speed dramatically, and he took off for the field. The hawk, seeing this, cocked her head to the side, then took off, flying for an open ground floor window in the officers' barracks.

With one last burst of speed, Felbur leapt over the fence, drew his swords, and muttered another word in elven. His shirt dimmed and went out, and he began to do his usual practise routines. Just as the other couple of recruits walked onto the field.

One of them was Drest, who was looking perculiarly smug, considering it was the morning. While the boy did always get up very early, he didn't like mornings at all.

It was nothing, Felbur decided, and he got back to work, performing his far too easy practise routine.

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It was early afternoon now, and the recruits were back on the field after a short break period. This was usually the time of day that the recruits would spend working on tracking and other academic studies that they did, but occasionally they would have a class devoted to simple hand to hand comment. During this class, they would all spar with a partner after a few minutes of instruction, and one unlucky recruit who was doing particularly good or bad that day would get the pleasure of fighting Krull. This recruit would usually sit out the next day because they were too sore to move.

However, most of them were quite surprised to find a woman standing with Krull as they walked onto the field, putting protective bandaging on her knuckles. The two were speaking in friendly tones, but they stopped as the first recruits walked in.

"This, as some of you may know," Krull began when they were all ready, "Is Sara Randell. Today, she will be in charge of the hand to hand combat session, as she is much more experienced than I in this area of expertise. I will be watching, however, to see how well you all do with her teaching."

With a nod from Krull, Sara stepped forward. "Today I'll be teaching you about throws. I'm sure you've already learned some basic techniques in throwing your opponent, but should your opponent's strength or weight make it impossible for you to perform a conventional throw, it is possible to do so in a different manner. Now, I'll need a volunteer to help show you how to do this. Anyone willing to come up?"

No one volunteered, or made any movement to come forward. The woman smiled, and turned to Krull. "I guess we'll need to do this."

Krull sighed as though annoyed, but walked forward so that they were facing one another.

"Your training master is going to try to attack me," she informed the onlookers, "and I will defend myself. Please watch my movements closely."

They looked on. There was no possible way for this relatively small and thin woman to throw the tall, broad shouldered Krull. No possible way.

Then he lunged forward with a vicious left punch aimed straight at her head. Sara effortlessly, it seemed, stepped to the right and placed one hand on the man's shoulder, one just at the base of his neck, and pushed. Krull, to the amazement of the onlookers, fell forward as though hit by a club and rolled over once before coming to a stop with his face lying in the dirt. A moment of silence followed, before all of the recruits burst out in applause.

With a smile, Sara helped Krull up, whispering in his ear as she did, "You keep getting easier."

She spun around to face the recruits before he could answer.

"I understand that usually you all just pair off and try to replicate the move, so that's what we'll do today. However, instead of one of you being paired up with me, I'll take all of you aside one at a time and show you the move a bit more closely. I'll start with…" her eyes searched the crowd, but she already knew the boy she would be taking, "you." Felbur walked over to her, his eyes, as always, emotionless. "The rest of you pick partners and get to work. Remember, you have to dodge the blow before it's thrown, then perform the throw."

As they all got to work, Sara led Felbur over to the gate, and to a section of the area outside which could not be seen from the training field.

"So, show me what you've got," she told him, preparing for the punch.

Wordlessly, he threw a punch. While it would be considered a rather fast one by the other recruits, someone with a trained eye like Sara could clearly see that his arm was holding back. And as she threw him, Sara distinctly felt him giving up his balance and easy footing, even pushing off a bit to help with the throw. When he hit the ground, it obviously took him far too much effort to restrain himself from throwing out a hand and stopping his fall.

"Well concealed," she told him as he picked himself up. "But please, I've been fighting for fifteen years. It isn't too hard to see that you're not trying as hard as you could. So please, get up and let's do this again."

His eyes locked on hers for a moment, and she thought that for a split second a fire had burned there, but then they went back to their normal bored, grey colour. Without comment, he walked back over, and the two got ready.

This time, when Sara noted the subtle movements in his muscles, she prepared to move a bit faster. But while the punch came when she expected it, it was much harder and faster. It flew in, and truly, had she been prepared, it would have been a relatively easy block. She just managed to move her head out of the way and get a grasp with each hand on Felbur's arm, just below the shoulder. With a hard boost of speed and strenght, she sent him flying forward.

But this time, instead of there being a small push of from his legs, there was instead great force behind the spring, and he went forward probably half a meter too far, rolling on his side so that he came back up to his feet in a crouch.

"Are we done here, then?"

Sara nodded, a look of careful contemplation splayed across her features. As he left, she wondered. Though he wasn't nearly as good as Delvek had been, the boy, even she had to admit, was quite skilled. If he were to attack her by surprise, it was quite likely that Felbur would be a challenge to defeat.

Still, her mind refused to accept him as Delvek's replacement. Anyone who intended to be would have to be perfect, flawless, and unbeatable. Fortunately, perhaps, for Felbur, he wasn't.

She saw the next recruit walking towards her, and smirked maliciously. There would always be later to think about it. But, for now, there were recruits to throw.

That night, after a seemingly longer than usual afternoon, the recruits walked, or for most, limped, home. In the barracks, the groans were clearly audible. Though those making these noises were by far the ones in the most pain, Felbur truly wished they would all shut up and get over it. None of the others knew it, but he had suffered much worse, quite often for days at a time. After a short while, he just gave up trying to ignore them and walked out of the building, his swords and his chain shirt comfortably worn, as usual.

Once outside and several steps away from the door, he took a deep breath of fresh air. He hated when the other recruits stayed back. Unfortunately, they were doing so more and more often, thus explaining his recent large number of walks. No matter the situation, he always managed to end up being alone. That was how he liked it, usually, at least. Then there was the problem of the girl. Why did she have such an effect on him? He had met hundreds of people, many much better fighters than her, many looking much better than her, many not even humanoid in shape, but he had never been able to connect with them the same way that he could with her when they fought. It was as though the two could read each other perfectly; it was as though, when they fought, they fought like those who had practised together for years. However, that was impossible. In the Southern cities from which he came, no one used scimitars; they instead preferred the heavier falchions and lances. So, finally, it came down to how could he have met this strange girl before?

He was about to sit down and think about it some more, when a small blast of wind came down from the hills just to the east of the military center. There was no point in wasting a beautiful night like this, he decided. He walked off with, for a rare moment, no care in the world.

However, for once, he should have had that usual dark temperamental of his. For, at this moment, there were great forces being set into motion by his few actions. A group of friends searched for information about his past so that he would join them in their revenge, the great evil which was stirring in the Teeth had already reached Eltairre and chosen him as a personal target, a fellow recruit was plotting his death, and old demons that he thought he'd left far behind in his past were resurfacing to challenge him, one last time. None know how many watched the halfling walking over to the hills, but to be certain, his fate was quickly being decided by the owners of those eyes, and he would know nothing of it, and have no control over it, and most likely never figure out the whole story until long after the dust had finally settled.

Chapter 6: The Last Classes

The next day, Felbur awoke feeling, oddly, good. He was ready for anything the world could throw at him, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Last night, he'd decided just to consider the girl as a good thing happening in his life for once, and now that he had someone who he felt at level with in this city, he could do it. He pulled on his chainmail shirt, and buckled the belts his swords hung from around his waist.

After getting some food that he was sure an orc would have refused to eat, he made his way to the training field, where a few of the recruits were already waiting. Most of them were stretching, and Felbur spied several bruises on each of them, no doubt from Sara's 'lesson' the day before. Felbur smirked, his happiness increasing again. He was sure that he'd impressed Sara the day before, and that was one of the things he enjoyed the most.

He was beginning his normal morning ritual of slashes and blocks against the air when Drest walked onto the field. The boy looked even more smug than Felbur did, which confused Felbur. Drest was normally wretched in the morning, and impossible to speak with. He greeted a few of theother recruits, while testing his sword's edge on a piece of cloth covered in small cuts. Then, he too began practicing with the air.

Felbur shrugged it off. If Drest was happy about something, it probably meant someone had been humiliated the night before, and so long as it wasn't Felbur, he didn't care. Along with being considered the best melee fighter in the group, Drest was also considered the one recruit most likely to stab another in the back for beating him in a game of cards, then blame it on someone. Obviously, he'd become quite comfortable with his position of 'the Best', and quite arrogant in using it.

Many recruits, Drest himself included, believed that Felbur could easily defeat Drest, and thus he took every opportunity to use a cheap shot on Felbur. Krull, too, had thought Felbur could take Drest, even before he'd learned of Felbur's concealed talent.

A few minutes later, all the recruits and Krull himself showed up.

"Recruits," Krull began. "On the whole, I was disappointed with your examination just over a week ago. Few of you managed to develop a strategy, and two of you fell because you made too much noise. Today, we'll be trying a new approach. We will be heading down to the same area that we used during our last examination. You will be divided up into pairs and given five minutes to find somewhere to start from. Then, the two of you will hunt each other down, and fight until one is disabled. There will be only two possible results for this test: pass or fail. Understood?" All of the recruits nodded, most not really paying attention. "Good. In that case, let's get going. It'll take at least a few hours to get the testing done, and an hour to march there and back. Let's try and be back in time for dinner."

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"Hey, Felbur."

Felbur looked around to find Drest just behind him, alone, for once. They were almost to the seasonal lake. Like the last time, the recruits were in one straight line, led by Krull. Felbur himself was walking several steps to the left of the others, trying to ignore everyone and be ignored by everyone. Apparently it hadn't worked.

"What d'ye want?"

"Nothing," Drest said, shaking a hand, "nothing. It's just, the two of us have never really spoken before, and I realised a few days ago, that I don't know anything about you."

"Well, why don't we keep it that way, then?"

Drest smiled. Felbur didn't like that smile.

"Well, so I got up early that day, to see if you'd like to talk before we started. But I saw the most peculiar thing."

"Are ye goin' to get to the ruddy point, or should I jest stop listenin' now?"

"What I saw was someone who looked quite a bit like you with a hawk."

Felbur stopped walking for a moment, and spun around to face Drest.

"Keep moving, halfling," he said, motioning with his hand. "We wouldn't want the others to get curious."

There was a very dangerous look in Felbur's eyes, but he started walking again. "Again, I ask. What d'ye want?"

"I want to defeat you."

"Surely ye're joking!"

"No. And I don't want to just defeat you today. I want to win every time we face eachother for any reason, no matter the circumstances."

Felbur looked back at him over his shoulder. "Ye're quite daft, aren't ye?"