Of Dragons and Destiny

by The Narrator

To whom is allegiance owed? The Empire or the Lady? Colin must choose his path as the War of Destiny begins in earnest...

3. The Path Altered

Disclaimer: I do not own Tenkuu no Escaflowne.

Of Dragons and Destiny: Chapter II

The Path Altered

"Two roads met in a yellow wood…and I, I took the one less traveled by.

And that has made all the difference."

                                    ~ Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken"

            Colin waved to the pilot of the airship as he ran out onto the airfield.  The man was an old hand in the Zaibach airship fleet and took his job as a pilot of troop transports very seriously.  When Colin had approached him during their flight, the pilot had been amazed at the boy's genuine interest in the control of the craft, asking questions that showed some familiarity with piloting.  The old pilot was only too happy to regale the youth with tales of his flights during the Alliance Wars, which were two generations in the past.  All too often boys and even experienced soldiers mocked transports for their less-than-glamorous roles.  But Colin had been different.

            "Good luck, lad," the pilot mouthed, giving the boy a thumbs-up as he lifted off.  Colin waved until the airship vanished in the blue vastness of the unclouded afternoon sky.

            "Are ya goin' to stand there all day or are ya going to get yourself into the wagon?" a deep, brusque voice demanded behind him.  Colin slewed around and found himself staring up at a giant of a man, whose uniform jacket bore the diamond insignia of a sergeant.  Without a word, the man bent down and picked up one end of Colin's trunk.  Colin picked up the other end and the two of them maneuvered it into the cargo space beneath the floor of the wagon.  The sergeant jumped into the driver's seat with agility surprising for a man of his bulk and picked up the reins.  He stared down at Colin, who hadn't moved.  "Are ya waitin' for a special invite?"

            "No, sir," Colin said quickly.  Yet he made no move toward the wagon.  "Sir, may I ask a question?"

            The sergeant frowned, as if suspecting that the boy was mocking him.  "Go on," he said, in a voice that dared Colin to speak.

            "Sir, did any of the other…candidates get a ride to the fort?" Colin asked from the position of attention.  He knew from experience never to make assumptions about the character of people he had just met, especially those who would exercise control over him.  The sergeant might have a gruff voice and manner, yet he had helped Colin to stow his trunk when it would have been just as easy to let him do it by himself.  But one could not take such kindness for granted.

            The sergeant raised an eyebrow.  "No," he answered, "Their trunks were loaded onto wagons, but they marched the six miles to Fort Prolieato; no sense in coddl'n boys who know what's expected of soldiers."

            Colin nodded.  "Then I will march, sir, if it is all right with you.  I too know what's expected of a soldier."  He felt his heart throbbing in his chest but did not let his gaze waver.  Don't give them anything they can use against you.  I might not have trained beside them, but I won't act like their rules don't apply to me.

            "Very good, very good!" laughed the sergeant after several moments of tense silence.  He slapped his knee with his broad hand and smiled down at Colin.  "Yer a clever 'un at least, that's for sure!  I can't be sure yet, but ya don't act like some lordling whelp.  I can see ya've had some proper trainin'."

            "Yes, sir," Colin replied, not relaxing one bit.  That was one hell of a gamble there; I thought for sure he would bawl me out.

            "Ya can stop actin' like I'm gonna take these reins to ya," the sergeant said with a wink, "Out here in the Wilds, there's no'un to see us talkin' friendly like.  If yer bound and determined to walk, then at least let's start headin' in.  I'll keep the horses for a nice pace."

            "Th…that's not necessary, sergeant," Colin said.

            "That's Sergeant Kane Berenger to ya, boy.  And don't worry; I wasn't plannin' on going the entire way with ya.  There's been talk a'plenty at the fort 'bout ya and I want to know the truth for meself."  Sergeant Berenger chirruped to the horses and Colin had no choice but to follow.

            "What's been said about me?" he wanted to know.  He had to trot to keep abreast of the driver's seat for the horses were surprisingly spirited for draft beasts.

            "It's been told that ya was gonna be one of them Heavenly Knights.  If I heard right, you'd be carryin' on some sort of family tradition."

            "Yes," Colin said with a sigh.

            "Well, ya don't have to be so down-hearted 'bout that," Sergeant Berenger said, "The Dragon Slayers are goin' to teach those Knights a thing or two 'bout bein' soldiers, you'll see.  'Course, there's been tales that yer father bought ya a place at the Academy."

            "What?!" Colin exclaimed indignantly, "Tell me who said that and I'll ram those words down his throat with my fists if he can't stand up to me with a sword!"

            "That's 'bout what I expected from ya," the older man replied, "There's no doubt about the true measure of yer spirit.  I can tell yer goin' to be a right good soldier.  It'll take the other 'uns a little while to warm up to ya, is all.  Not everyone's a good a judge of men as my humble self.  Give it time and prove yourself."

            "I knew it was going to be hard," Colin said, looking off into the forest encroaching on the road to his left, "I have a feeling that everyone's expecting some fop who can't find pour water out of a bucket with instructions written on the bottom."

            "'Effeminate pansy' is the title I've heard most often," Sergeant Berenger admitted, "but that'll go away the moment they set eyes on ya."  Colin sensed the man was being less than truthful, but did not challenge it.  It was reassuring to know that he had at least one friend already.

            "Thanks," he said.

            "Yer welcome," replied the sergeant.  He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the sun.  "There's not much for ya to see in the Wild," he said, "except for trees, hills, and more trees, but enjoy them while ya can.  I'll be returnin' to the fort now.  There's a fork in the road 'bout two miles ahead; take the one going to the left.  Report to yer commander the second yer admitted, got it?"

            "Yes, sir," Colin said.  Sergeant Berenger chucked the reins and urged the horses to a fast trot.

            "Don't go and get yourself eaten by no dragons!" the sergeant called over his shoulder as he disappeared in a cloud of swirling, chalky dust.  Colin coughed and ruefully eyed his clothes, which looked as though a measure of flour had been tossed on them.

            "Dragons, huh?" Colin muttered as he began walking, brushing the dust from his dark blue tunic and black pants as best he could.  "Good afternoon, Sir Dragon, isn't it a pleasant day for a stroll?  What's that?  So sorry, I've already made a luncheon appointment, thank you very much."  He laughed at himself, knowing he sounded more than a little crazy.  He picked up the pace, getting into a steady marching stride.  On his right he heard crackling leaves as something (hopefully a squirrel or a bird) zipped through the underbrush.  His ears strained to catch any other sound, but were only rewarded with the sighing of the wind through the tops of the trees.

            "Hm…" Colin grunted, more than a little nervously.  It was so quiet, he could feel it, as if the presence of the ancient forest, its countless seasons, were weighing down on him.  What's the matter, afraid of a bunch of trees and shadows are you?  This is no different than the field training you had at the Academy, you twit.  Stop imagining things.

            Colin began to whistle, tunelessly, an "I-don't-care" message to whatever was lurking in the forest.  I thought I told you to stop imagining things!

            "Since when do I give myself scoldings?" he wondered aloud.  "Oh, great, now I'm talking to myself."  He shrugged and began whistling again.  The whistling soon evolved into one of the marching songs Colin had learned at the Academy.  It was quite long and Colin reached the fork in the road as he finished the last chorus.

            "…company by company, we ride out at dawn, and we won't come back till the battle's won, hey!"  He halted just before the fork and considered the two branches.  The left fork, the one Sergeant Berenger had told him to take, was as well-worn as the rest of the road, deep ruts showing where countless of wagons had passed.  The right fork, in comparison, faded less than a stone's throw from the main road, becoming little more than a deer run through the forest.  Colin peered down that way as far as his eyes could discern, and then raised his eyes to the distant mountains, blue and wreathed in low-hanging clouds.  A tiny black speck, probably an eagle, drifted across the whiteness before being swallowed up by the sky.

            I wonder what it would be like to be like that, flying over mountains, having my home on the highest cliffs, always above the world, looking down at the tiny, squabbling men whose problems are so insignificant next to the vastness of the sky.  I would ride the wind, and be free…

            "The poet said to take the less-traveled road, so I suppose…" Colin took one step onto the right fork, then another, "If I were a poet, I would follow this road, until it took me…" Colin continued walking until the white surface faded into worn dirt and grass.  At that point, he stopped.  "But I am not a poet."  He gazed toward the mountains.

            To be apart from this world, all its meanness and evil and darkness.  To be free to wander where I will, be it valley or mountaintop, to be…free.  Colin shook his head, dispelling the sweet tempting words.

            "I am not a poet, I am a soldier, and a soldier desires only to do his duty and dreams only of honor and glory.  I am a soldier."  These words fell like lead from his lips, heavy and final.  Colin turned on his heel and strode back to the main road.

            "The path has been altered once; it shall not be again."  The left fork was before him.  He took it.

            Fort Prolieato stood upon a short, man-made plateau.  The fort itself was not very large by modern standards, but then it had been built centuries ago before the advent of guymelefs on Gaea.  Its thick walls and impregnable gate were meant to withstand the sieges that had been the mode of war in that distant time.  Its design would have allowed a company of a hundred men-at-arms to effectively withstand an army many times greater; the underground storehouses and the spring which had no other opening could not be accessed by a hostile force and ingenious tunnels, all but forgotten in this age, would have allowed additional supplies or reinforcements to be smuggled in with comparative ease.  The forest, for a circumference of a mile around the fort, had been cleared so that no enemy could approach its walls beneath a screen of protective leaves and branches.  But this too had been in the past; the forest was once more gaining control of the lands it had lost.  Colin gazed at it from his vantage point atop a small hill about a half mile from the gates.  Its four towers were rounded and slitted with narrow windows for archers.  He could tell by these towers that the original owners had not been from Zaibach, as such roundness would have been out of place with the strictly angular architecture common to the empire even from its oldest roots.

            The Wild had once been the scene of mighty battles and glorious campaigns.  Who knew how many times the fort had changed hands or how many had had their bones laid to rest on this nearly forgotten piece of land?  Colin felt a thrill in his heart as if he could hear the call of the trumpet or see the bright banners ride forth in glory.  Such a fort had been in many of the ancient tales his mother had told him, about the far off days when the world had been simpler.  Such forts could also be found in the legends of the Company of Immortals, the noble knights from whom the Knights Caeli had traced their origins.

            Here was a place that kept alive the days of the old warriors, those whom Colin felt a closer kinship with than any family of blood.  Here too, perhaps, he would be made one of a glorious shining company.  Colin smiled, a fierce, proud smile, as he took off at a run to cover the distance that separated him from his goal.

            "Colin Delios?" the young man asked from the door of the small room.  Colin immediately snapped to attention, even though the other boy was very nearly that same age and garbed in the same manner as he.  The sunlight from the room's only window glinted on the other's glasses as he looked Colin up and down, his expression unreadable.  "The commander will see you now.  Follow me."

            Colin got in step behind his guide, who led him down a short passageway to a massive door crafted of oak bound and studded with black iron.

            "What's your name?" Colin asked him reached out to knock on the door.

            The other ignored him and rapped twice on the wood.  "Listen to me," he hissed, not turning around, "You will enter this room only after the commander invites you.  You take five steps into the room and bow with proper respect.  You will address the commander as 'Lord Dilandau,' and you will leave only after he dismisses you."  With that, he about-faced and left Colin standing alone in front of the door.

            That was not what I expected.  "Bow with proper respect"?

            "Enter," commanded a voice from behind the door.

            Colin laid his hand on the dragon's head that formed the doorknob and turned it, pushing into the room.  He took the prescribed number of steps forward and fell into the genuflecting bow of the Knights Caeli, right knee and right fist to the ground, left arm on left knee, head lowered. 

            Hope this is respectful enough.  Why is it so dark in here?  Stuffy, too.  He must have all the windows closed for some reason. 

            Colin sensed rather than heard Lord Dilandau approach him and raised his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his new commander.  An armored hand slapped his right ear, knocking him sprawling.

            "Did I tell you that you could look up?" the voice hissed coldly.

            "N-no sir," Colin answered, recovering instantly.  He kept his head bowed and tried to keep his breathing calm and even.

            What the hell have I gotten myself into?

            "Get up," Lord Dilandau ordered.

            Colin rose hurriedly and snapped to attention, his eyes caged straight ahead and unblinking.  Lord Dilandau narrowed his eyes and examined his newest subordinate.  He seemed unaware of Colin's own avid scrutiny.

            Red eyes, can't really tell if his hair silver, gray, or white; damn this dim light.  That must be why he has all the windows closed, because he can't stand too much sunlight.  Taller than me by at least two finger widths, I'll bet. I don't know too much about, "...may develop emotional imbalance…" but I'd say he's already got one up on them.  We'll see about the other things…

            "Why weren't you on the wagon that was supposed to take you back here?" Lord Dilandau asked as he slowly began circling Colin.

            "Sir, the answer is that I wanted to march like everyone else did, sir," answered Colin.

            "Is that so?" Lord Dilandau fairly purred, coming around to face Colin again.

            "Sir – yes, sir," Colin answered, unnerved by the barely concealed hatred he saw in Lord Dilandau's eyes.

            Colin's head snapped back as Lord Dilandau dealt him a backhand that rattled his teeth.

            Should have seen that one coming, saw it in his eyes.

            "I am not some idiot who needs to hear things twice!" Lord Dilandau barked, "You say 'sir' once."  Lord Dilandau turned away in disgust.  "Or do you think I am an idiot?"

            Say something, get slapped; say nothing, get slapped.  There's no way I can win this one.  Got to love your options.

            "No, sir."

            The first fist caught him in the stomach, knocking the breath from his body, the second caught him on the left side of the head, knocking him to the floor.

            "Of course I'm not an idiot!" screamed Lord Dilandau, "How dare you think that I need your opinion!"

            Colin pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly before coming to attention.  He made his face perfectly impassive, refusing to give his commander any satisfaction.

            "Report to the supply office and get your issue," Lord Dilandau ordered, as if nothing had happened, "You will be in inspection order by breakfast tomorrow.  Understood?"

            "Yes, sir." 

            Probably expects me to ask what the hell he means by "inspection order," but that's what dorm mates are for.  With any luck someone will be nice enough to take pity on the new guy…hopefully that other one wasn't representative of all.

            But Colin knew, even as he executed a simple military bow and about-faced, that it was very likely he had gotten the most cordial welcome the privileged son of a noble family could expect under such circumstances.

            He reflected on his new commander as he made his way down the spiral staircase that would take him to the inner courtyard.

            A few bats short of a belfry, that one.  I suppose that answers any doubts I had as to "sadistic."  Perhaps he reserves such treatment for climbers like me; if not…Father, you have underestimated the evil of the Sorcerers and they have underestimated their own creation.

            Colin reached over his over-loaded wheelbarrow and opened the door to the candidate dorm room.  The door swung back noiselessly on well-oiled hinges, nudged along by the front end of the barrow.

            I really hated being a pain about the barrow, but there was no way I was going to take the one they use for carting manure in.

            The blankets and sheets that had lain precariously atop Colin's trunk chose that instant to slide off.  Colin made a futile grab at them, but the entire pile fell to the floor.

            I hate gravity.  With a sigh, Colin let go of the barrow and stooped down to retrieve the items.

            "What would we do without it, I wonder?" a voice inquired behind him.

            Colin started and turned around on his heels, coming face-to-face, or more accurately, face-to-knee with whoever had snuck up behind him.

            Didn't think I said it out loud.  "Well, if there wasn't any gravity, nothing would envy the birds, not even the mountains," Colin rejoined.  Where the hell did that come from?  Colin raised cautious eyes to the speaker's face.

            Cold grey eyes stared down at him, hard as granite.  Colin tried not to laugh at the sight of the white streaks that ran through black hair.  "So, you think you're funny or something?" the newcomer demanded. 

            "No," Colin answered, put off by the other's tone.  Whoa, take a deep breath there; no need to get any fights on your first day.  He got to his feet, extending a friendly hand.  "My name is Colin."

            "Delios," said the other boy, spitting out the name as though it had a horrible taste.  He ignored Colin's hand.  "I am Ahren Dempsey, and I am in charge of keeping order in the dorms.  While we remain here at Prolieato, you will report to me.  Right now, you will prepare your things for an inspection."

            Yes, sir," Colin said.  What we have here is a boy who thinks he's got the right to pile crap on me whenever he feels like it.  I don't think we're going to be friends.  He and Ahren glared at each other, neither willing to break the lock.

            "Hello, you must be the new guy!" blurted a voice behind Ahren.  A small boy who looked no older than ten pushed past the taller youth, his face beaming and his hand out towards Colin.  "My name's Chesta, but you can call Ches, all my friends do!"

            "All right," Colin said, more eagerly than he meant to in Ahren's presence.  He shook Chesta's hand and realized that the boy was older than he had seemed at first glance.  Judging from that accent, he's probably from near the Asturian border.   At least he doesn't seem to be holding any grudges against me.  Colin smiled, a genuine smile of relief and gratefulness.

            "Thuban!" Ahren barked, "You were supposed to be at weapons training with the others…"

            "Sergeant Berenger sent me up to help the new guy, er, new candidate to get his things in order," Chesta interrupted, "You can take it up with him if you want."  His frank aqua eyes met Ahren's gray ones without wavering.

            "Fine, whatever," Ahren snorted, waving a hand to indicate he was through with both of them, "Get him ready for the inspection tomorrow and don't dawdle.  I expect you to be up to speed on how we do things here by the evening meal, Delios."  With that last veiled threat hanging in the air, Ahren left the dorm, slamming the door shut behind him.

            "Is he always like that?" Colin asked before considering whether or not to speak.  But Chesta, he sensed, was someone he could trust.

            "Ignore him," Chesta answered, shaking his head, "He's been anal retentive ever since Lord Dilandau made him the section marcher.  Let's get your sleeping area in order."  Chesta bent down and took up the bed clothes, then began walking to the far end of the long room.

            There were two rows of uniformly made beds on either side of the room.  On Colin's left, high, narrow windows let in the fading light of the sun.  Chesta stopped beside the last bed on the right side, a bare, thin mattress on an ancient metal frame that was little more than a glorified cot.

            Charming accommodations.  Colin noted that the mattress sagged visibly in the center and was spotted with a generous amount of unpleasantly colored stains.  I don't even want to know what that stuff is.

            "Put your trunk at the foot of the bed here," Chesta said, pointing as he tossed the linens on the neighboring bed.  He picked up one sheet and shook it out as Colin deposited his trunk in the prescribed place.

            "I'll take this end," Colin said, holding the sheet down at the foot of the mattress.  Chesta deftly tucked in the excess material under the head of the mattress, then folded neat triangles on either side.  He was about to start on the second sheet when Colin stopped him.  "There's a little trick I learned about making inspection beds…"  He grabbed one of the blankets and laid it down on top of the second sheet.  "Can you hold the top there?"

            "Sure," said Chesta, following Colin's direction good-naturedly.  Colin pulled blanket and sheet tight, then tucked it under, finishing the job with the same precise corners Chesta had folded at the top.  "This way you don't have to do the corner-folding twice," Colin explained.

            "Wish I had known about that trick in basic," Chesta replied sourly, "Would have saved me no end of trouble.  Let me take a look at your trunk; the bed's fine, but the trunk is what they'll get you on during the inspection tomorrow morning."

            "Hey, thanks for helping me like this," Colin said as he popped open his trunk.

            Chesta knelt down in front of it.  "No problem," he said as he began taking folded shirts, socks and other things out and setting them the floor, "Unfortunately, you folded everything wrong, so you're going to have to do it all over again.  I'll help."
            "Thanks," Colin said again.  He watched Chesta refold a shirt and copied him.  "So what's this inspection like?  Up at the crack of dawn, cadre shouting in your face and the like?"

            "Sounds about right," said Chesta.  He grimaced.  "I plan to sleep on the floor tonight so I won't have to worry about remaking my bed."

            "Good idea; I think I'll be joining you."

            "So long as you stay on your own side."  Chesta laughed.  "So, how do you like being a smack so far?"

            "'Smack'?" Colin repeated, mystified.

            Chesta grinned sardonically, which was a rather interesting expression for such an innocent face.  "Yeah, smack.  I would have thought you got it already."  He pointed to Colin's red cheek.  Colin automatically touched it and winced at the memory.

            "Whose demented mind came up with that one?" he wondered.

            "Me," Chesta said simply. 

Colin rolled his eyes, then looked over at the vacant beds.  "So who's all in this unit?"

"There are sixteen, counting you and me.  Over in the window row, starting closest to the door, is Ahren Dempsey, who you've already had the pleasure of meeting.  Next to him is Arnor Matthis, then Dalet Shanaz, Cyril Balin, Migel Lavariel, Ryuon Brielle, Raul Wakiza, and finally, Gatti Leala."

"Leala…that name sounds familiar."  Colin's eyes went wide.  "You mean General Leala's son is part of the Dragon Slayers?"  The "Glorious Hunter," General Commanding the Eastern Army, General Oberon Leala, his son is a Dragon Slayer?

Chesta nodded, somewhat amused by Colin's amazement.  "Yeah, he's a friend of mine.  Over on this side," he continued without a pause, "starting at the door is Viole Muscatine, Bern Gervase, Myr Tellamon, Guimel Schaffer, Yan Hebrun, Damon Baird, me, then you.  And that's all of us."

"I still can't believe that Leala's son is going to be one of you," Colin blurted after a while.

"One of us you mean," Chesta said, reaching for the last item in the trunk, a pair of socks.  His hand inadvertently brushed against a camouflaged button built into the bottom.  "What the…?"  There was an audible "snick!" and the body of the trunk shifted several inches to the left, revealing a space built into the false bottom.  There was a glint of gold in the darkness.  "What's this?"

            Colin put out a hand to stop him, but Chesta had already drawn out the gleaming dagger. The sunburst crest of the Knights Caeli blazed on the crosspiece.  "So it's true," Chesta gasped, "You were a Knight Caeli."

          "Almost," Colin said with a sigh.  I didn't even think of throwing them away; what possessed me to bring them?

            "Aw, come on," Chesta retorted, "You expect me to believe that?  The Knights don't just hand these things out, everyone knows that.  Did you save someone's life or something?"

            "As a matter of fact, I did," Colin admitted, surprised that Chesta had known.

            "Tell me about it," said Chesta, drawing the dagger from its dark blue enamel sheath and testing its edge.

            "Er, um…it wasn't like I was doing anything really brave," Colin told him, recalling the way his heart had pounded in his throat as he stood on that narrow ledge with only empty air for fathoms below if he fell.  He hadn't been able to walk straight for nearly an hour after the others had dragged him and Zev back up to the top of the cliff, he was shaking so hard.  Colin blushed at the memory.  I don't want that story circulating around here; that will just set me even more apart from the others.  "Hey, aren't you a little young to be in the Dragon Slayers?"

            "I'm fifteen, and don't try to change the subject," Chesta said, raising an eyebrow.  Most people were quick to dismiss him as someone easily pushed aside but those who knew him knew that he was more tenacious than a hound on a good scent.

            "Well, it happened during survival training," Colin began, "My 'patrol group' had been sent on a reconnaissance mission into the uplands…"

            "So you set his leg right there on that ledge, even with the blizzard coming?"

            "Yeah; it was possibly one of the scariest moments in my life and you couldn't pay me enough to get near the edge of a cliff or tall building for about a month afterwards.  Thank Gaea I finally got over it.  It would rather embarrassing for a guy who's about to become one of the elite of the elite to be afraid of heights."

            "That's nothing.  I used to be terrified of cockroaches…hey, quit laughing!  Those things are ugly as sin and they're disgusting and they skitter around like…I said quit laughing!"

            "Hahahahahaha…eheh…sorry, Chesta, but you have to admit…wahahahahaha!  Look, I'm sorry; I'll stop.  How did you get over your phobia then?"

            "We had a fair amount of field training in basic, the whole deal with the tents and the sleeping outside that you had to go through.  You would not believe how many bugs there are in the Wild!  Anyway, I was in the tent I was sharing with about ten other guys, rolling up my sleeping bag, when I find this HUGE roach that had probably been in the thing since I had gone to bed the night before.  I kind of…screamed…and threw my bag half way across the…you're laughing again."

            "No I'm *snort* no I'm not.  Hee hee…I'm not laughing.  I told you my story, so you owe me one."

            "Fair enough, I suppose.  Unfortunately, Lord Dilandau hears me and storms into the tent, royally pissed off and demanding to know who had screamed.  One of the guys points to me and Lord Dilandau gets in my face and orders me to tell him why I had been screaming like a little girl."

            "Did you tell him?"

            "What else could I do?  I told him about the roach and he gets even more pissed and yells at me for being a coward and so on.  This goes on for about five miets when he suddenly stops and stares over at my bag.  He reaches down and picks up the roach.

            "'Is this the thing that made you scream?' he asked.

            "'Yes, sir,' I say, not liking the look in his eyes.

            "He just looked at the roach for a moment or so and then he…he popped the thing in his mouth and ate it!"

            "What?!  That is so…I don't believe you.  There's no way Lord Dilandau would do something like that!"

            "I swear I'm not making it up!  He chewed it up and actually swallowed, and he didn't even look grossed out.  One of the guys, Myr, got sick and puked, but Lord Dilandau acted like he didn't notice.  He just kept staring at me.

            "'Candidate Thuban,' he said.

            "'Yes, sir?'

            "'You will leave the camp and look for another bug.  When you find that bug, and not before, you will return and show it to me.  After I have seen the bug, you will eat it.'"

            "Did he really make you eat it?"

            "What do you think?  Of course he did!  And he made everyone else find a bug and eat it too, because we're all supposed to be part of a team, and that's what teams are supposed to do."

            "So what did it taste like?"

            "Like a big, ugly, parasitic, spindly-legged bug!  I try not to remember, but at least I was able to keep it down; almost everyone else got sick.  I wasn't the most popular person after that little incident, you can imagine."

            "I can bet.  So are you still afraid of roaches?"

            "No, but I'm really glad Lord Dilandau hasn't figured out my other phobia."

            "Which is…?"

            "Snakes."