THE HIGH LORD'S FAVORITE

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all. If you recognise something from somewhere else, don't own that either. This is just for fun.

Rating: M

- italic mental communication

italic flash backs


WHY DO YOU DO NOTHING?

Leaving her Guild History class, Sonea thought back to what her teacher had said. Secret passages. Well if she could find those, she would more easily avoid Regin and his gang of now twenty followers.


Sonea couldn't believe her luck at having found the map. Even less, at having had the time to copy it. Tomorrow, she would begin exploring them.
Rounding the corner she darted for the painting. Triggering the mechanism, she entered the secret passage quickly and shut the door behind her. Looking through the peephole, she saw them run into the room, only to look confuse and turn around. Sonea let out the breath she had been holding, only to have it catch again in her throat as she felt someone behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. But maybe she would be able to get by and run down the passage. Stiffening, she turned around, and met His angry eyes.

"Get out of these passages, and never use them again."

Surely he was joking. He had to know what would be waiting outside if she did. But he took a step towards her, effectively blocking any escape.

"Now."

With her back against the wall she searched for the mechanism and activated it. She heard it click, and at that moment she wasn't sure who she was more afraid of, Akkarin or Regin and his gang. But she knew one thing for sure, she would not give him the satisfaction of pushing her out. Quickly she turned and exited the passage. Taking a moment, she decided which way to go. Carefully, she peered around the corner to see in what direction the novices were looking. Good they were looking in the opposite direction, maybe she would be able to sneak by. But not with these shoes. Retreating back around the corner, she quickly and quietly took her boots off. Glaring at the peephole, she turned her attention back to the novices around the corner. She was almost home free, when one of the novices turned and saw her. Quickly she turned on her heels and ran down the hall she had just come from, pass the painting, into another hall. As she passed the painting, her anger boiled, He was still there, she could feel it. How could he just watch and do nothing?

Sonea felt her shield collapse, as her attackers pulled out the corks to the bottles and threw them at her. In a last desperate attempt, she threw her arms up. She was a little confused as to why she didn't feel wet yet, and as she opened her eyes she understood why. The liquid had splattered everywhere, on the ceiling, walls, novices. She stopped the urge to laugh and quickly got up, not bothering to pick up her boots, she ran out of the room before they could mount another offensive. But once she had the High Lord's Residence in sight, she began laughing. And she was still laughing as she entered the Residence. Takan looked at her questionably before retreating back into the shadows. Sonea looked at herself in the entrance mirror. Hair dishelved, robes wrinkled, barefoot. Yes, she would look questionably at herself too. But remembering the look on Regin and his gang's face, she began to laugh again.


Sonea had just left the High Lord's Residence as Administrator Lorlen had arrived. Akkarin poured himself a glass of wine, offering one to Lorlen, who declined.

"Why are you letting the novices gang up on her?" Lorlen demanded.

"I gather you mean Sonea? It does her good."

"Good!" Lorlen exclaimed.

"Yes. She has to learn to defend herself."

"Against other novices?"

"You heard Lord Yikmo, she is a skilled warrior. She ought to be able to defeat them. They're not very well coordinated."

Lorlen shook his head and began pacing.

"But she isn't defeating them. And some magicians are wondering why you do not step in and put a stop to it."

"I am her guardian, and it is up to me how my novice is trained."

"Trained?! This isn't training!"

"She needs to overcome her fear and learn to trust herself, only real conflict can teach her that."

"But this is fifteen against 1. How can you expect her to stand up to so many?"

"Fifteen? Last I saw it was near twenty."

"You've been watching her?" Lorlen exclaimed in disbelief.

"Whenever I can. Although it's not always easy to keep up with them. I would like to know how that last one ended though. Twenty or so novices, and she still managed to escape." Akkarin said smiling.

Lorlen though that he had caught a hint of pride in Akkarin's statement, but he could not be sure.

"She got away? But that means..." Lorlen needed to sit down.

"I would advise you to think twice if you were planning to take her in the Arena, Lorlen. Though her lack of confidence and skill would assure you won."

Lorlen was trying to wrap his head around how a novice so young could already be so powerful.

"Every time they attack her, she stretches herself. She's learning to defend herself in ways neither Balkan, nor Yikmo can teach her. I'm not going to stop Regin and his followers. They're the best teachers she has."

"But... Why do you want her stronger? Aren't you afraid she will turn against you? What will you do when she graduates?" Lorlen asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"She is the High Lord's favorite. The Guild expects her to excel. But she will never grow strong enough to be a threat to me. As for graduation, I'll decide how to deal with that when the time comes."

The calculating look in Akkarin's eyes sent a shiver down Lorlen's spine.


tbc...