It Could Be Worse
Episode 16: The Lioness Returns
By Sulia Serafine
[2-8-01. A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. And for the last time! I don't own the Three Stooges! So don't mention how I'm using them! As I've said before, I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!
E-mail me at silverwLng@aol.com, okay?
P.S. I'm once again sorry that I'm late. You can tell that by the date I started this episode that it should have been finished days ago, but I've been very busy and injured. Yes, Jae, this is about my calf (covered in gauze and tape)… the bruise on my head… and… okay, you can stop laughing now. I'm accident-prone! I admit it! Now hush before I get Lego-san to come after you. *blinks* Aww! Now you have me calling him Lego-san! It's Legato-san! *sighs* And for those of you who actually asked, my women's novice 8 boat didn't place, but my women's freshman 4 placed second. We were going to overtake the first place boat until my friend's oar dipped too far down into the water. It was twisted in the oarlock so the oar was parallel to the boat and we couldn't pull it back to its normal position in the oarlock because of the speed of the boat (it's actually called "catching a crab"). S'okay though. I had fun. Oh, and a lot of you have been asking me about Saphron and her story Rainy Day Trip (MY version of SQUIRE). I am not mad at all because I have been mentioned as the resident K/J author. I'm happy. And as for due credits, blah, blah, I'm honored to have influence on anybody (my editor told me that I could take it as a compliment that I influenced someone enough to have them write something of my style without their realizing it. Very weird, but uplifting in a sordid way). Saphron is a wonderful author and a personal friend. As are Jae, and a lot of other TP authors here whom I infinitely respect for their talent and imagination. Enjoy the long-awaited episode.
Lalasa finished wrapping the bandages around Roald's bruised ribs. He winced uncomfortably as he became aware of all his wounds. When they had met up again outside of Scanra, she had not been as hysterical at him as he thought she'd be. She didn't demand what happened. She didn't start lecturing him on what could have happened. The Carthakian had not started bawling and drowning him in tears either. Instead, she had carefully hugged him and led him back to the luggage for the first aid. Lalasa leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Go, get some rest. Let me take care of these other stooges."
He nodded and got up. Then he walked over to the second picnic table at the rest stop they were at and laid down. Faleron and Cleon sat down in his place, both nursing less than serious injuries.
"How did you get the gash in your cheek?" she asked the thief while putting some antiseptic on a cotton ball and dabbing gently at his face. Faleron flinched.
"The chaps who arrested me."
"Oh, goodness," she muttered. She handed him a small bandage and turned to Cleon. "And you… what happened to you?"
The redhead smiled sheepishly. "The mob in front of the police station was brutal, 'Lasa."
"We leave you alone for only about three days and look what happens," she muttered with a frustrated expression. Lalasa proceeded to bandage them up. She made a shooing motion with her hands. "You can go now. You're fine. Well, until Stone talks to you."
The two men exchanged nervous glances. Then they looked to Joren, who was still seated on his bike, checking his database. He had yet to say anything to them about Scanra. Keladry stood nearby, arms folded, staring at the ground. She was too deep in her thoughts to pay attention to their predicament.
"King," Joren suddenly called. Faleron's head snapped up.
"Yes?"
"Get over here. Kennan, stay where you are."
The redhead let out a sigh of relief. Faleron gulped. He calmly approached Joren while rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. The blonde turned away from his database and studied the fidgeting thief. Who knew what kind of punishment would be given out to him? Faleron's hands were clammy and his throat dry. If Joren didn't say anything soon, Faleron was going to scream. This continued for five minutes. After the maddening silence, Joren spoke. "You killed a man."
The shorter man's eyes squeezed shut. "I didn't mean to. It was… it was…"
"Instinct," Joren finished for him as a statement, not suggestion. The other nodded in profound amazement to the first's understanding. He went on. "You just reacted to the scene around you and next thing you know, that happened."
Faleron nodded numbly. "Yes."
Joren stroked his chin. "Okay. That's all I needed to know. You can leave now."
At first, he blinked. That was all? Faleron was sure he would get lectured or at least cursed at. And then, Faleron thought that Joren would delve further into his explanations of understanding how it felt. How in the world did Joren know what happened back in Scanra? That it was… instinct? Faleron turned to leave, but a question emerged in Faleron's mind. He faced the biker again and coughed gently into his fist. "Uh, Stone?"
"What now?"
Faleron uneasily toed the ground with his foot. "Have you ever…"
"Have I ever…?" he repeated in a bored manner.
"Killed a fellow?" Faleron regretted his words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He coughed again. His throat was too dry. "I mean, because of your job? I know whatever your occupation was in Tusaine was dangerous and--"
"Yes." Joren returned to his database and dismissed him without another thought. "You're free to go."
"Oh. All right." He blinked. Free to go. --Just as if he were a prisoner all over again with his own companions as his jailers. He turned on his heel and walked back to his friends. Keladry watched the scene with interest. She focused more on Joren. So, he had killed a person. Keladry didn't doubt it. In his line of work up in Tusaine where all the drug lords lived, it was expected. Still, she found it hard to believe that some day in the future, she might be forced to end a life, as well.
Joren turned around on his seat. "Hey, Mindelan. Get over here."
Slightly confused, she approached him. "Yeah?"
For a moment, he just gazed at her. She felt her knees weaken under his tense scrutiny. Finally, he looked back at his database and pointed. "I accessed more news from Tortall using Kaddar Iliniat's hacking routes. They're starting to let up on the manhunt for us." He pressed another button on the screen. "Now that everything's starting to clear up, we can sneak back into the country and settle this bullshit once and for all. You understand?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She paused. "Why did you just tell me this? Why not tell everyone at the same time?"
"I had to talk to you anyway," he replied.
"What for?" she asked timidly, wondering if it were what she thought it was. Was it his "mistake" or something else?
Joren nodded in Faleron's direction. "Thief-boy may be familiar with the world of criminals, but now that he's stepped up to the next level, he might have a nervous breakdown."
"He already cried and did all of that in jail," she said. Keladry didn't like what he was getting at.
"Initial response," he said darkly, his hand gripping the handles of his bike tightly. A shadow crossed his face, a phantom of morbid thoughts and past experiences. "He's just now started to think of the scheme of things in depth-- the meaning of life and all that crap. Keep your eye on him."
She frowned. "Why don't you ask Cleon or Roald? They're closer to him."
"They're in denial of what's psychologically happening to him. Not that I would give a damn, usually, but I don't want King blowing up at the wrong time. Do you understand?"
She glared at him with intense loathing. How could he think so badly of Faleron? The troubled young man could take care of himself. He wouldn't break down and go crazy over his terrible act. She was absolutely repulsed by the idea. Keladry raised her head a little higher and stiffened her movements. "Yeah. I understand just fine."
He narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that attitude, Mindelan."
"I'll give you what ever attitude I want," she muttered and walked away to stand by Faleron. The thief expressed his concern.
"Is something wrong, Kel?"
She shook her head. "No. It's nothing. Where's Lalasa?"
The short, dark haired girl was no where in sight. Roald continued to sleep on top of the picnic table and Joren was completely absorbed in the information given to him by his database. She turned to the two other men. "Where did she go?"
Cleon shrugged. "How are we supposed to know? She probably went to the bathroom, Kel. Don't be so paranoid."
"It's hard not to be when you're in our position," she replied, slightly peeved at his casual reaction. "Go find her, would you?"
He nodded and headed towards the rest rooms and vending machines. She was left to talk with Faleron. Joren's words came back to haunt her. She gazed unsteadily at her friend. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay," he answered. He chuckled. "A little tired. I'd sleep, but Roald's taking up a lot of room on that table." There were bags under his dark, usually warm eyes. Now his eyes shown exhaustion in the face of persecution, no longer having the strength nor the endurance to fight back. She wanted to help him. But Keladry knew he would refuse her and stand on his own, playing out the fictional part of the liberated prisoner ready to make his own destiny.
"Where's the sugar-addicted, charismatic young man that I know?" she thought to herself.
"I miss my hat," he said suddenly, feeling his head.
She paused. "We could get you another one just like it."
"No. That's all right. I just find it hard to get used to all the breeziness up here." He forced himself to laugh again.
A few minutes later, Cleon returned with Lalasa in tow. Both were very quiet and distressed, a capricious change. Lalasa folded her hands neatly in front of her and gazed down at the ground. Her eyes were wide but glistening in the moonlight from unshed tears. Keladry grasped her only female companion by the shoulders. "What's wrong now? Lalasa?"
Lalasa cleared her throat with much reluctance to begin her tale. "My father contacted me. He's going to take us back to Tortall."
"For what?" Joren demanded as he joined them. He'd only heard the word Tortall, but it was enough to spark his interest.
"To attack," she answered in a hoarse voice. She removed Keladry's hands from her shoulders. "We're to meet Roger Conté back in Tyra and sail with him to meet my father in Carthak. And then, we head to Tortall for the 'final battle', or however Father chooses to call it." She looked up at her with wide, guilty eyes. "I'm so sorry. I know it's my fault that he's dragging you into this. If I had just stayed away from you, he'd never ask for your participation in this…"
Keladry attempted to calm her down. "It's okay. We're in this together." The words sounded like a lie to her very ears. Before the other girl could notice her subliminal thoughts, she pointed to Roald. "Why don't you, uh, go stay with Roald and make sure he's feeling up to the trip."
The older girl nodded. "Yeah. Okay."
Cleon scratched his head. "So, we have to go back and sail with that creepy Roger guy? Aww, man, that sucks."
"His crew was good for money," Faleron commented with a smirk. "I don't have any problems with it."
"And we don't want to disappoint Ozorne Tasikhe. The guy can help us figure out the real deal on President Conté and all this business with the immortals," Joren added. He nodded to Lalasa. "So let's go meet him."
~~
As they boarded the Roger's boat, Faleron drifted back and forth from his thoughts and reality. He couldn't forget it, no matter how hard he tried. Every time he shut his eyes, he could see every single thing happen in slow motion. If he had been born with gift of quick observation and calculation to analyze his reactions to the world around him, how could he let that happen?
In that split second, he could have sprinted away with the children, then returned with maybe a baseball bat to clobber the burglar. In that moment out in the hall, he could have burst in, screamed for the two adults to run, and taken a bullet for the family. So, why did he hesitate? Why did he allow that to happen?
"Fal," Cleon called. "Come on. Let's get your stuff below, dude."
He was a coward.
"I'm coming. Give me a second."
It was that simple. He was a coward.
"We don't have all day, Thief-boy. Get over here."
Faleron nodded and hurried his pace to jog. He thought to himself, "Don't shut your eyes…"
Roger greeted them again with a broad smile. He continued to spook the latter of the small group with his mysterious ways and frightening expressions. Often at night, he called Lalasa to the helm to speak with her about Ozorne. And every time, she would return to her bunk pale as a sheet. Keladry peered at her one night, and threw back her covers to sit up.
"What happened?"
Lalasa shakily gripped the tiny ladder she would use to climb into the bunk above Keladry's. She bit her lip. "Roger Conté is coming with us into Tortall. He's helping my dad."
"What?"
She nodded and started climbing up, not even bothering to throw her shoes down. "He's going to be there at the rebellion. The president's estate is going to be invaded."
Both young women remained quiet for a long while. Lalasa curled up atop her bed covers, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest. Keladry stared at the polished wood of the bunk while letting her friend's words sink in. Several times she thought to say something, but it just didn't seem right. Roger was coming with them to Tortall. He was working with them. Keladry didn't want to see any more of the terrifying man, but he was tagging along anyway. It was Ozorne's wish that he come.
"There's nothing I can do about it," she reasoned. Then, she let the silence stand and forced herself to slumber.
~~
Cleon hunched his shoulders. "I hate Carthak."
Faleron smirked. "It's extraordinary how not too long ago, you desperately wanted to see it."
He shrugged. "But that was before I saw it. Now I have and I don't like it one bit." Cleon sighed dramatically. "You have high crime rates, poor living conditions, the most aggravating natives--"
"Ahem?" Lalasa gave him the evil eye.
"Sorry. Didn't mean you. The rest of the population."
"Sure you did…"
Roger laughed, making each one of them turn and become rigid. He crossed his arms and eyed them ruefully. "Youth these days…"
They immediately shut up after that. The looming presence of the outsider was a burden on them all. So, in quiet submission, they trekked down the street-- Joren gone ahead on his motorcycle-- towards Thom Trebond's home. They could not approach Lalasa's apartment because the local DJPF had it under surveillance and the same with the Crypt now. Yet, they still did not feel safe, not as long as Roger Conté was around.
"At this point, I'd rather run into some DJPF officers," Cleon muttered as he glanced back at the intimidating man behind him.
"Did you say something?" Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.
"N-no."
"Watch yourself, boy."
Cleon clenched his fist. He fought to keep his gaze fixed ahead. After half an hour of Lalasa leading them through the maze of streets and alleys, they finally reached Thom's where Joren was waiting in the street. A woman with a pink robe and curlers in her hair was hurling random objects down at a man, presumably her husband, while shouting and yelling. The man bellowed right back. He dodged most of her projectiles. Seeing their route blocked, they went up the fire escape one by one. From there, they opened the door that led to an indoor flight of stairs going down into the basement of the building.
They knocked on the door. It was five minutes before there was any response. They could hear a dog barking from the other side. It was Jump.
"Jump, get Uncle Thom!" Lalasa ordered.
"Do you think he can understand you?" Joren snorted.
Faleron opened his mouth to say something. He could offer to pick the lock, but it didn't feel right. He was having trouble doing anything of his usual nature after getting his liberty from execution. The tension was lifted when Joren started to pick the lock with a tool from his belt, surprising everyone but Keladry, who remembered what he'd done when they first met.
It took all of fifteen seconds to open the door and swing it wide open. Joren muttered something about automatic sliding doors and Carthak's technology deprivation. He gestured for everyone to follow as they entered the room. Jump wagged his crooked tail and barked as he jumped repeatedly in front of Cleon. The redhead grinned and crouched down to scratch him behind his ears and receive licks from the energetic dog.
The basement of the building was empty. Roald and Faleron casually sat down on the sagging brown and gray sofa. This time around, Keladry took it upon herself to straighten up the ever-jumbled items on the coffee table. Lalasa hesitantly went into the kitchen. "Uncle Thom? Uncle Thom, it's us!"
Things became quiet, save for Cleon playing with Jump. Joren narrowed his eyes. He slowly reached under his jacket for one of his guns. Roald saw him and became bothered. He cautiously stood up and joined the blonde where he stood.
Keladry set down the stack of blueprints on the coffee table and frowned. She drew her energy glaive from her belt. With the flick of her wrist, it shot out, extending itself to staff length. She refrained from activating the flare at the end because of the small space around her. She took her defensive position between the sofa and the other men.
Cleon took the squirming dog into his arms and handed him off to Roald while he and Faleron took twin stances, standing three-quarters open with their left and right shoulders touching. Cleon also gave one of his guns to the thief and released the safety on his own gun.
Joren nodded his head toward the kitchen. Roald walked forward-- armed with nothing but the wriggling pooch in his arms. He pushed through the swinging door, holding it open by nudging the small wire newspaper rack against it with his foot. Jump whined. Then Roald started to scratch the dog behind the ears as he held him. He walked painstakingly across the tile floor. He turned the corner of the kitchen, around the refrigerator. "Lalasa?"
Silence. He stared at the tiny table covered with unwashed bowls. Roald sighed in relief and smiled.
"Get him!" a woman's voice shouted forcefully. DJPF officers in the Carthakian uniforms burst in from the alternate door and from the pantry. He gasped as more came through the one window and surrounded him. He tried to move, but fear glued his shoes to the floor. Finally, a hoarse cry escaped his throat as men grabbed his arms and tried to restrain him.
Jump was unceremoniously thrown to the floor. At once, he bit the pants leg belonging to one of Roald's captors. He was kicked away by the officer. The small white-gray dog barked loudly and attacked again.
"Help!" he yelled.
Joren, Cleon, and Keladry were the first to run in. Keladry swung her collapsible staff every which way, knocking men upside the head and stabbing forward and striking their chests so that they fell to the ground collapsing for breath. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't wearing any Hyperion bands, and neither were Joren and Cleon. The two men, now joined by Faleron, fired at the men holding Roald, aiming not to kill.
Faleron stepped back, shooting less than the other two men did. He was still unsure of his aim, and unsure of the situation. Quickly, his mind set upon the many options he could take at that split second. He could try to fire his gun, but what if he ended up killing another innocent person? And what if he ran? It would be cowardice all over again. Finally, Faleron's eyes rested upon a toaster. He yanked it from its plug to the wall and threw it with great precision at the chief officer pinning Roald to the counter.
"Oof!" the man grunted as he fell away from Roald, who scrambled up onto the counter and tried to jump to his allies' side. Two pairs of hands suddenly shot out from the window and grabbed him, yanking him up over the sink and threw the narrow opening. Jump continued barking. He ran forward and bit Roald's pants just as the youth was being pulled up. Then he, too, was gone through the narrow window, tail and all.
"Hey! Let go! Guys, help!" Roald cried from the fire escape.
For the first time, they heard a feminine shriek. It came from Lalasa, who was struggling to make it through the alternate door from which she appeared. Other officers stopped attacking to restrain her. The rest were already dropped to the floor, trying to crawl away. Joren launched himself forward, throwing punches. Cleon used his excellent marksmanship to take down a few more officers. A woman with fiery red hair wearing a bright red and yellow Tortallian uniform stood ready at the back of the kitchen after kicking aside the table and the chairs. She beckoned for Joren to approach.
He accepted her challenge, staring her straight in the eye as he drew his gun arm back and wondered to himself whether it was a draw or a brawl. Keladry kicked a man in the solar plexus, then leapt back when she saw the woman. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Her mouth dropped open.
"Alanna Olau Trebond," she whispered.
"You're under arrest, Stone. Put your weapons down. The same with you, Kennan."
Cleon stared at the newcomer, slightly annoyed and slightly surprised. He glanced contemptuously at the remaining officers standing and set his guns down slowly on the floor. Joren reluctantly did the same.
"All your weapons," Alanna commanded with a stern voice. Joren glared at her openly before reaching in his jacket, producing his second Desert Eagle, and placing it on the tile. Keladry stood apart, her eyes wide. Lalasa struggled in the background, biting the hand clamped over her mouth. The man yelped and drew his hand back. Lalasa stomped on his foot and gained freedom from his crushing embrace.
"Don't listen to her, Kel! Fight!"
Alanna suddenly stared at Keladry. Her features softened, allowing the former female officer to see a form of sincerity in her eyes. She spoke. "You're this Keladry Mindelan I keep hearing about. Lord Wyldon has told me many great things about you. You're not like Stone or these others." She paused. "Help me, Mindelan. Restrain your companions, because they're no comrades of yours to drag you into this."
Cleon was about to retort wittily but Lalasa ran over and used him as a shield. He instinctively stood taller and held his arms out to help protect his friend. Faleron stood in the far back, eyes downcast. His hands trembled, still holding the Cleon's gun.
Meanwhile, Keladry didn't know what to say. Her former idol was starting to move back into the spotlight now. She knew her. She was told about her. She was offering total pardon in exchange for helping reel in the wanted criminals--
"Criminals," she whispered. An image of the president and then Ozorne Tasikhe flashed in her mind. She shook her head. "No… No, you aren't a criminal."
"Of course, I'm not," the president's advisor said with an air of perplexity. "And you don't have to be either. You have so much potential."
"Oh, just shut up," Joren spat angrily and moved his foot back so he took a defensive position. He raised his clenched fists to chest level and eyed the DJPF living legend with extreme dislike. He noticed Keladry had still not put her makeshift staff down. He turned his attention back to Alanna. "How the hell did you find this place anyway?"
She smirked. "What? I can't find my own brother? I could have found Thom a long time ago, but I respected his wishes and left him alone. That's what twins do. Now, Keladry, listen to me--"
Keladry didn't know what to do. She was so torn between choices. On the outside, she composed herself, and made herself to look stronger. Against her role model, it did very little in her favor. "I fight with them, Miss Trebond."
Alanna pouted slightly, in a disappointed way. She had been expecting her to take her side. Not many people disagreed with her in situations like these, when she had a whole life's history backing up her reputation. "Very well," she said tightly. "I forgive you for all that you're forcing me to do. But don't say I didn't warn you."
She raised her gun and aimed at Keladry, whose inner turmoil kept her from reacting. Joren cursed and whirled around. He dove towards Keladry, tackling her to the floor just as the first few shots were squeezed off by Alanna. Cleon scrambled for his own gun, but Alanna fired another round in his direction, too. The male redhead fell on his bottom. He immediately rolled behind the unconscious form of another officer slumped against the wall.
"Fal! Shoot, damn it! Shoot!" he shouted.
Faleron's head jerked up. He stared at the powerful woman before him. She didn't know his name. She didn't even notice him so far back in the kitchen that he was practically out in the basement room. In the meantime, the bullets flew overhead of Joren as he positioned himself over his stunned partner. He felt one of them bite into his shoulder, making him grimace.
"Joren!" she gasped. He ignored her and moved off of her. He dragged her behind the overturn table after grabbing his guns just as a shot rang out and struck Alanna in the thigh. Faleron stood with his face pale and childishly wide eyes. Smoke wafted up from the barrel of his gun.
"Run!" Joren shouted. He took Keladry's hand once more and ran with Keladry toward the other end of the kitchen and out the door.
Cleon shoved Faleron into place in front of him and then Lalasa. He banged his knee against the refrigerator as they ran past, and then again almost tripped on the newspaper rack holding the door open. Alanna yelled to the rest of her men to go after them, but as she looked around her, they were all knocked out upon the floor.
"Where the hell is Roger?" Cleon yelled as they made it out the front door and tumbled down the fire escape. They practically smacked into the sidewalk at the rate they fled down the ladder. Faleron braced himself as he hit the ground, the result of an accidental push from Lalasa. She fell on top of him, then Cleon against her.
"Get up!" Thom cried frantically from where he stood. Joren spun around.
"How did you escape?"
Thom gestured behind him to the man leaning against the broken and misshapen DJPF squad cars. Five other men in the Tortallian uniform lay on the ground, out cold. "My pal Roger helped me of course! They were holding me in the alleyway."
"I didn't even see him leave us," Lalasa whispered. She glanced back overhead at Thom's door. "We should go find my father. And then we have to go back for Roald." Her voice softened. "I'm not abandoning him."
"We have to," Joren and Roger replied simultaneously. They glared at each other directly after.
Keladry shook her head. "Stop delaying! Let's get out of here!"
"This way!" Thom said as he jerked a thumb across the street. "I know the way to Ozorne's hideout! We have to get there as quick as possible!"
The group ran forward. Cleon pulled Faleron to his feet, the thief still as silent as before. He yelled for Lalasa to help him move Faleron along. She obliged reluctantly, still shouting for Roald to be rescued. As she had been kidnapped and he had gone after her, so she would do the same thing.
Joren veered off course from the rest of his group. He had to get his bike. In Roger and Thom's fight with the officers, part of a metal dumpster had been pushed over his bike. He know gritted his teeth as he tried to lift it. Keladry, at the tail of the running group, looked over her shoulder. She took a split second to decide what to do and then turned on her heel and ran back. She joined Joren. Neither spoke, but both strained to lift the dumpster and push it away.
Alanna was now outside, her guns reloaded as she deftly slid down the ladder and landed gracefully on the ground. She called out to them, but she was too late. They freed his bike, now slightly scratched, and both hopped on. They made their escape. The president's advisor wouldn't have it. She didn't become a living legend by sitting around all day. She sprinted to one of the squad cars with a broken windshield. The key was left in the ignition by one of the officers out on the ground. She turned it and the car sprung to life.
She drove after them, pressing the car to its limits in speed. The motorcycle and car were on a chase through the Carthakian slums. Beaten up cars swerved to avoid the dangerous duo as they tore up the asphalt with their antics. Alanna gripped the steering wheel with one hand while leaning out the window with the other and firing her gun.
Keladry yelped as she felt a bullet lodge in the metal fixture below her. Joren, who in their haste actually got his helmet on, cursed vehemently and reached back with his right hand to grab Keladry's. He guided her hand over his thigh and to the compartment where he kept his spare guns.
In the fast pace of their getaway, she had no time to realize the proximity of their closeness or the intimacy of their body contact. He lifted his thigh barely enough to let her access to the compartment. Joren tried to speed up in the treacherous booby-trapped streets, but he had to dodge so much. Keladry finally closed her fingers around the hilt of a silver handgun that she didn't even bother identifying. Now, how was she was supposed to shoot?
As if sensing her thoughts, Joren took his foot off the footrest and hooked her calf with it. He did the same with the other foot and then nudged her with his elbow. Now that she was anchored down, she could twist around and aim with both hands. She turned at the waist, the back ridge of the seat digging into her hip as she did.
Alanna squeezed off two more shots before following them on a sharp turn. Feeling like she was being thrown off the bike, Keladry fired three shots, then abruptly turned back and grabbed Joren by the shoulder to keep from losing her balance.
"We've got to lose her!" she screamed above the loud engine, her hair whipping around her face.
He nodded and motioned again to the compartment. This time, she had to reach farther to feel anything in the tiny enclosure. Then, she felt a round metal sphere in her palm. She withdrew her hand and looked at it.
"Just throw it!" he yelled. With one hand around his waist, she twisted around and flung it at the windshield of Alanna's squad car. The older woman cursed as smoke was emitted from the orb and filled the car. She was forced to stop and get out. She coughed forcefully, trying to get air. She watched the Black Knight and its passengers make their getaway as she continued to cough.
Keladry grinned when she saw her aim proved true. She turned back around and put her other arm around Joren's waist. Now all they had to do was figure out where they had ended up in their chase and then find Ozorne.
"You could be a little less sloppy with your throw," Joren commented as they came to a stop at a convenience store to get their directional bearings. She rolled her eyes and handed him his gun. He returned it to his compartment beside his thigh. They both fidgeted on the seat. It was uncomfortable riding like that, unlike that time in Galla--
Keladry blushed. She blanked her mind of that memory and concentrated on the present.
"What does the database say?"
"We're on the North side," he replied. "Page Cleon and get instructions."
She did as she was told. Second after, she received a reply. Joren nodded, and put his helmet back on. They pulled away from the curb and rode away at a more gentle speed for their sore bodies. Keladry yawned into her sleeve. All the action had tired her. Forgetting where she was, she encircled her arms around Joren's waist more comfortably and leaned her head against his back, between the shoulder blades. Her hair, a little longer than when this whole business started, flopped onto his shoulder in accordance with the wind.
Joren tensed as he felt her move against him. He was about to scold her like he always did, but paused and thought better of it.
~~
Elsewhere, Roald was blindfolded and thrown into a sack in the back seat of a car. Jump was wrenched away from him, the dog yipping and barking loudly. It was half an hour before the car stopped and someone was untying the burlap bag. He thrashed about, angry at the way he was being treated. "Hey! Who is this? Answer me!"
"Calm down, Roald. Honestly," a familiar voice said. The vice president's son blinked as he heard a dog bark as well.
"Numair?" he asked as he forced his head out of the bag. The tall older man smiled as he held a squirming Jump while scratching the dog behind the ears and down the back.
"Nice to see you, young friend," Daine said, gathering his attention.
"Daine? You two… what's going on? Why did you take me back there? Don't tell me you're helping them, too!"
Daine grasped both his shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye. "You know us better than that. We're the ones who sent those three officers out on the limb for what we're trying to correct in this world. We know what you're trying to do."
"Then why did you separate me from them?"
Numair leaned on the car door and tapped the window as he talked. "We couldn't risk the vice president's son getting injured. Do you know how much your mother's pinching hurts?" He reached up and felt his ear, remembering unpleasant times. "Ouch."
Roald laughed. Daine folded her arms. "I swear, she coddles you too much."
"Back to the topic at hand," Roald said. "What happens now?"
"We take you back to Tortall," Numair replied and began to move around the car to the driver's seat. Roald wormed his way out of the rest of the bag and flung it away from him onto the street. Daine frowned, picked it up, and threw it at an overturned trash bin. They got into the car as well and shut the doors. Numair turned and let Jump leap into Roald's lap, where the dog immediately began lavishing the boy with fervent licks as his greeting.
"What about my friends?" he asked as they drove away.
"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if we saw them sooner than you think. And Alanna wouldn't have it any other way."
"What?" Roald frowned.
"Your friends escaped. And it's been so long since dear Alanna's had a challenge," Daine chuckled as she turned around and looked at Roald in the back seat, "that she won't let them get away without another fight. She plays to win, and to push her limits."
"That's our Lioness," Numair nodded.
~~
Ozorne cupped his daughter's face hard, examining a cut under her eye. She flinched uncomfortably under his touch. "Dad…"
"Shut up. Let Genlith get some ointment. No one scratches my girl and gets away with it!"
She rolled her eyes. Vinson snickered as he left the room to get some ointment as he was commanded. As he passed his own father, Roger cuffed him in the back of his head for showing such insolence. The young man cringed and scurried away like a rat. The whole group sat around in a dingy basement with a single shop light illuminating the whole place. There were various guns scattered haphazardly on the metal table, and bullets as well.
Joren sat backwards in a chair, leaning on the back with his chest as he examined the guns and began choosing some for his own. Keladry sat exhausted in the corner, drifting to sleep as Cleon was doing on the beat up armchair in the other corner. Faleron sat motionlessly on the left arm of that armchair, staring at the wall. Presently, he did snap out of his self-induced trance and paid attention to what was going on around him.
He'd shot Alanna Olau Trebond back there. Maybe, with intentions to kill her, maybe not… He didn't know what was wrong with him. He tried so hard to be the calm and collected sugar-addicted thief that everyone knew so well, but it was just so hard. There was all the stress and tension still present from his life-altering experience in Scanra.
Cleon rubbed his blurry eyes and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks for asking."
"Uh-huh," Cleon nodded, yawned, and snuggled down into the warmth of the armchair.
Faleron took a deep breath. "Get a grip," he told himself. "Put on a happy face, just for them." He gazed down at his best friend and thought briefly of Merric. "Just for them..."
They spent the whole night, planning and plotting their way. Food and drink were passed around. Cleon woke up eventually, more energetic than before. He began cracking jokes at Vinson's expense while being scolded by Roger and Lalasa. Lalasa in turn avoided Vinson's sugarcoated stares and thought constantly of Roald. Joren ignored them all as he conversed with the loathed Ozorne Tasikhe about weapons and resources. Faleron sat in the armchair where Cleon had been. He drank some brandy from Vinson without stopping to think about how it would affect him later. He had to relax.
It was strange how enemies worked so efficiently together. Perhaps it was because people don't trust their enemies, even when allied with them for a short time. Thus, they are able to keep all senses alert to complete the task-- unlike those friends who work together, and one stabs the other in the back because of their trust.
Near dawn, Cleon awoke Keladry.
"Hey, Sleeping Tough Stuff, wake up."
"Don't you mean Sleeping Beauty?" Faleron smirked.
He nodded. "Oh, sure, Kel's pretty. But she'd kill me if I said that. She's Miss Tough Stuff, for you information Mr. Ice Cream Pants." Cleon was rewarded with his friend's grin-- so rarely seen since Scanra, and a groggy Keladry.
"What time is it?" she asked.
"It's six-something. Come on. We're going home."
"Home?" she echoed.
"Bright and shiny Tortall!" Cleon said with a grand wave of his arms. His voice then transformed into that of a travel agent's. "Tortall! Where all your dreams come true! Tortall, the home of the president and his lady! Tortall! The place where you were raised and became the legendary MISS TOUGH STUFF! Tortall, the land of the free, and the home," he sang grandly, "Of the… BRAVE!"
"Shut up, Cleon!" everyone yelled.
~~
Author: And there it is… They're going home to face the main conflict. *thinks* It seems to me in both ALLO and ICBW, the real fun started when they went home. Hmm… weird coincidence… Oh, well! I hope you enjoyed the episode! I've got a really, really good surprise for everyone next season, but I'm getting ahead of myself. There's still this season to finish. Review, PLEASE! All reviews are appreciated and praised!
p.s. By request, I drew the towel scene from episode 12 (yes, Jae, this is the one… *smiles*) and you can use this link to get to it. If it doesn't work, wait one day, go back, and it should work.
http://www.geocities.com/silvrblade.geo/silverdragon/fanfics/towelscene.html
Closing Credits:
Special thanks to those who helped me with descriptions:
( Note: These people are VERY cool. Do not mess with them.)
Kestrel
Erin (Hyper Girl to the Rescue)
Sullychkk (Whose name is Caitie…)
And also to the people who volunteered to help with my web page:
FireLily
Jaelawyn Noble