One of a kind

Disclaimer: Can't be bothered thinking up a creative disclaimer so I'll just go with the old reliable. THIS ISN'T MINE! None of the recognisable stuff is mine.

Chapter Nine: Changes

Raoul helped himself to another slice of meat, grinning at his young friend as he did so, before offering the platter to Thom.

Shaking his head, Thom laughed. "I don't have a bottomless appetite, you know."

Raoul raised an eyebrow, and, mimicking the tone Duke Gareth used when saying such things, boomed "And how, young Thom, are you ever going to get enough flesh on your bones to be a proper knight if you don't eat something?"

"I eat plenty," he replied. "It's just -" he broke off as the real Duke stood up from his seat at the head of the mess hall. The Duke cleared his throat for attention, before beginning to speak.

"As all of you are aware, the squires are required to complete a group expedition every year, in preparation for their Ordeal. This year's expedition will depart in one week's time, to the city of Persopolis. That is all."

Jon turned back towards them, leaning on the back of his chair. "Well, gentlemen, it's seems we'll finally get the chance to find out whether or not Persopolis is really all Douglass claimed it is." Seated partway down the table from Jon, Douglass tried to protest, resulting in Geoffrey, who was sitting opposite him, being showered in peas.

The older knights who supervised the training of the pages and squires had long since given up on trying to make the pages and squires sitting there from sitting, as was usual, with their own training groups, though Geoffrey and Douglass were not as good friends with the others than Thom, who always seemed older than his fourteen years, at least mentally.

"Sounds like fun." Commented Gary as his sire dismissed them all. "Wish you were coming with us, Thom."

Jon frowned. "That's true. I wonder if between us we could convince your honoured father to let him come along?" Gary's face took on a wolfish grin as he replied with a flippant, "Never know till we try." And together they set off down the hall to where the Duke's office was located.

***

"Now bring it back down … watch your side!" Liam yelled as Alanna went through her sword exercises. "You must always keep your guard, even in an exercise, so that it becomes habit."

Alanna nodded tiredly. She hadn't expected fighting with a sword to be so hard, and, while she was fairly good now, she had been a disaster the first time she had picked up the simple practice sword Liam had given her.

Liam glared at her. "Alanna, listen to me. You have the speed and skill to be much better than you are right now, but it will be difficult if you want to be the best. If you want to be a Shang, then you have to be able to do this."

Alanna nodded again, then went into the appropriate starting position, this time careful to

make no mistakes. Liam smiled approvingly, his dragon's eyes turning a warm green as she finished, then made her repeat it again, three times, each time with no mistakes, before picking up his own sword and placing himself in a defensive position, indicating for Alanna to attack him. Which she did.

Kicking away Liam's arm as his sword swooped towards the 'kill' position, she thrust her sword at his chest, noting how his eyes widened briefly in surprise before he knocked it aside before she was in a position in which she could do him any real harm, then stepping back to indicate a draw.

He grinned, briefly. "You are getting good. That'll do for tonight. You better go now."

She nodded, and left, grinning in elation over having done so well in her fight with Liam.

"So it ended in a draw? Well done, 'Lanna!" Tatiana grinned, settling back in her chair. Rhiannon glanced up from her book of spells. "Yes," she said. "Meanwhile…" reaching for Alanna's simple plait, she examined it critically. "Your hair's a mess." She finished. Tat giggled. "She's right, Alanna. It looks like a bird's nest."

"It does not." Alanna protested, attempting to free her hip length plait, which Rhiannon was beginning to undo, while Tat collected brush, comb, and hairpins.

"Hey!" she shouted, feeling a brush yank through her hair.

Tat glanced down at her. "Resistance is futile, Alanna."

When she realised that she had no escape from her extremely determined friends, Alanna gave up, until Tat, with a final pin jabbed in, announced, "It's done."

Looking into the mirror, Alanna had to concede that her friend had done a good job, even if the sophisticated hairdo did look a bit odd with her breeches and shirt. "It needs a gown," Rhiannon announced, disappearing into Tat's dressing room, then reappearing with a pale lavender dress in her hands.

"Go on," Tat said as Rhiannon deposited it in Alanna's arms. "Let's see how you look."

"You're too tall," Alanna protested, raising an eyebrow at her long friend. "It won't fit."

Tat dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "I grew out of that ages ago. C'mon, Alanna, you have to start being a girl sometime."

"Since when?" she retorted as they pushed her into the dressing room. Slowly, Alanna stripped off the sweat stained fighting clothes she was wearing and changed, only looking at herself in the mirror once she was finished. And stared.

The gown was much more elaborate than the ones she usually wore - more to please Maude and the priestesses than anything else. The young, delicate looking lady in the mirror, with her pale skin and flaming pinned up hair was a far cry from the rough-and-tumble girl she was used to.

"Come on," came Tat's voice through the door, startling her out of her reverie, "we want to know what you look like."

Nervously, wondering how she had managed to let herself be talked into this, she came out.

The look on their faces was enough to make it worth it being dressed up, Alanna thought.

"Wow," murmured Rhiannon, "You're actually pretty when you're not covered in dirt and sweat."

Tat stood still however, her head cocked slightly to one side as she examined her friend. "There's something missing," she announced, and strode across the room to her chest of drawers, rummaging through one until she found what she was looking for.

"Here," she said, holding up the little box, triumphantly, "earrings."

"What?" Alanna exclaimed, "No way!"

Tat advanced on her, and, grabbing her shoulders, pushed her towards a chair.

"Tat," Alanna began warningly, "don't' make me use Shang on you."

But Tat wasn't listening. She pushed Alanna down into the chair and gestured for Rhiannon to bring over  the needles and a candle she had asked her to get, just a they heard a knock at the door, and Sophia entered.

"Oh, hello," she said to Alanna, before turning to the others "Hello, Tat, Rhia, where's Alanna -" her voice trailed off as she turned back to stare at Alanna

"What, you didn't recognise me?" Alanna asked flippantly, and her eyes widened as Sophia, apparently lost for words, shook her head. That decided it. She might not want to be a lady, but she was a girl and she intended to make sure that people knew it. "Do it," she said, waving a hand imperiously at Tat and Rhiannon.

Sophia turned back to them. "Do what?' she asked, a puzzled frown on her face.

Rhiannon held up the needle as Tat announced, "We've decided she needs earrings."

Sophia crossed her arms. "I think you'd better let me do that," she said, crossing the room to take the needle and candle from Rhiannon.

As she sat next to Alanna, slowly rotating the needle in the flame, while Alanna watched nervously. Get a hold on yourself, she thought. You've gotten far worse injuries than this. Why am I so nervous about a little prick?

Sophia removed the needle from the flame, and took hold of Alanna's ear as Alanna closed her eyes.

She felt the needle go into her ear, and though she felt no pain, there was a roaring sound in her ears.

Sophia took hold of her other ear, and Alanna felt the needle go in again as the roaring grew louder.

"Alanna. Alanna" Alanna heard Sophia's voice in her throbbing ears at the same time a she became aware of the stink in her nose.

She coughed, starting away from the tiny vial Sophia held under her nose. Sophia smiled in satisfaction, placing the small metal cap over it.

"What happened?" she asked.

Tat's mouth was twitching. "You fainted."

"I fainted?"

Rhiannon, her face creased with worry, nodded, but Tat began to laugh, and in a few seconds she had collapsed into a chair, waving an arm wildly as she proclaimed,

"Alanna of Trebond, Shang apprentice, woman warrior, and powerful mage, fainted because of a- a-"

"Pinprick." Alanna finished, somewhat sourly.

"Don't worry," said Sophia in a reassuring tone as she held up a mirror for Alanna's inspection, "You're not the first."

Standing up carefully, Alanna winced as the bell that signified lights-out for the young ladies at the convent  rang in her still-tender ears, tripping on the hem of the over-long gown, and decided that she'd best change out of it before she tripped and broke something.

The others agreed, although they would only let her change after she'd promised to have a dress made of the same colour upon their next trip to the City of the Gods.

***

Thom turned away from the sand laden wind coming through the open window, and wondered yet again how Jon and Gary had managed to convince their respective fathers to let him come to Persopolis with them.

Walking over to the table that the small rooms he had been given contained, Thom saw two letters on it and picked them up, wondering why he hadn't seen them earlier, before realising that they must have been left there by a servant when he was out.

Recognising the handwriting on the first, he scowled, for it was from his father, and letters from his father were never particually enjoyable experiances. The next was from Alanna, something which pleased Thom much more.

Deciding he may as well get the bad over with first, he took out the dagger he wore at his belt, and used it to  break the heavy read wax seal bearing the Trebond arms entwined with Lord Alan's initials - his father's insignia.

The letter contained the usual mentions of important goings-on at Trebond, his father's studies, a perfunctionary request after his health and general well-being ... and notice of a marriage his father was currently arranging for him.

Thom stopped dead, staring in disbelief at the paper he held, as the words his father had scribed there marched on regardless.

... Baron Nathaniel and I have long discussed the advantages of such a match, and  decided to betrothe you, and his youngest daughter, a girl I believe is about a year younger than you are, by the name of Rhiannon. Naturally, the marriage will not take place until she has completed her years at the convent and you have undergone your Ordeal, but I felt you might wish to be informed of the match. This will strengthen Trebond's tie's with Ruatha's Gorge ...

Rhiannon of Ruatha's Gorge. The name seemed somehow familiar, and Thom realised that she was one of his sister's friends at the convent.

He was fairly sure he had met her before ... Alanna had mentioned them playing together once or twice when they were children, but Thom could dredge up no more of a memory than a toddler's face, blurred by time, and surrounded by a mass of loose blond hair.

He reached for his sister's letter, wondering if she knew of it ... Mithros know how long ago his father had actually signed the betrothal contract, and this Rhiannon might have told her of it if she had heard anything.

As far as he could tell, Alanna had heard nothing, since her letter was no different in tone as any others he had received from her, and he was sure it would have been if she had heard something, but for once, his sister's essence did nothing to calm him.

***

"Something wrong, Thom?" Jon asked as they all relaxed in his rooms in a brief respite from the party that had been going on since dinner. True, social occasions weren't his young friend's best area, but Thom wasn't usually this quiet.

Thom's reply was terse, and the scowl he had been wearing all evening deepened. "It seems that my father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me - with one of my sisters best friends!"

Jon let out a long, low whistle.

"Well, you'll be glad to know that I have the perfect activity to take your mind of that, then."

Raoul sat up straighter. "Can I come? I've been bored witless since we got here, what with the parties and receptions and such."

Jon grinned, "Sure. What about you, Gary?"

Gary shrugged. "Sure. Sounds interesting."

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Come on, then." he said, and, turning, headed towards the door.

"Hang on," Thom said, suddenly feeling uneasy about whatever it was that Jon had in mind. "Where're we going?"

Jon grinned. "That's part of the adventure."

Shrugging off the feeling of uneasiness, Thom, with Gary and Raoul, followed Jon down to the stables.

Mage nickered softly at Thom's approach, the golden flecks in his mane and eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

"Easy, boy." Thom whispered as he grabbed his tack, saddling Mage as quickly as he could, then led him out to where the others were already waiting in the small courtyard behind the stables.

Riding through the streets, Thom again felt a gut feeling of danger, but suppressed it.

Once in the desert, Jon kicked Darkness into a gallop, and the black horse had almost disappeared into the desert night before the others caught up.

Thom sucked in a breath as he caught sight of their destination.

He turned to Jon, purple eyes huge in the darkness. "The black city, Jon? Are you insane?"

Jon dismounted. "Still up for that adventure?"

Gary shook his head. "No, Jon, we've done some risky stuff in the past but this..." he waved an arm at the expanse of black stone that loomed above them, "... this is just too much."

Jon shrugged. "If that's the way you feel then ... " and then, before any of them could reach him, he darted inside the city.

Gary muttered a curse, and looked at the others. Raoul dismounted, saying "We can't just let him go in there on his own."

They caught up with Jon at the edge of an enormous, glass-covered pit, staring up at the black temple on the other side.

"Should we go in?" whispered Raoul.

"We've come this far," said Jon, in a far away, almost dreamlike tone.

Thom said nothing, just stared up suspiciously at the temple. It seemed to hypnotise him, the weird black radiance it emanated.

He was on the verge of telling the others that they should go back, when he realised that they were all crossing the black pit ahead of him, and, stepping onto it to catch up, felt as if he was being pulled across it by a rope around his waist.

 He stepped inside.

"Well, here we are," he announced, rotating to view the enormous temple, and stopping when he caught side of a stone altar. For a second it seemed that another scene overlaid his vision...

 ... Two men  -  priests? -  Held a struggling man over the altar, while a third lifted a wicked, jagged edged knife over him. The knife descended, piercing the man's chest, and the priest dragged it down as his victim screamed, then reached into the man's chest and pulled out his pulsing heart, holding it up like as an offering. Blood streamed in torrents down the altar ...

Thom gasped, feeling nauseated at the vision, and, as if it had been a cue, swirling magic ... a sickly yellow green colour ... began to stream in the air in front of the altar, materialising into a row of impossibly tall, beautiful ... people?

One smiled, slauntering towards Raoul. "It has been long since we have had such handsome young men visit us."

Raoul stared at her, hypnotised.

Realising what was happening, Jon yelled. "Raoul!"

Raoul's head snapped up, and realising his peril, he dodged, pulling his sword out his sheath in a quick fluid movement.

Gary and Jon did the same, as did Thom, although he doubted his ability with a sword - dubious enough even in the practise courts - would be anything to use against these - things.

Grouping together, Gary muttered, "Those are the Bazhir demons we were told about, aren't they?"

Jon's face tightened grimly. "So it seems."

Thom counted. Seven demons, four humans  - almost, he thought to himself two to one odds ... but against demons ...

Abandoning any subtlety, the demons began to circle them, the four men amongst them now holding swords that they seemed to have simply plucked from the air.

One struck forward, towards Gary, who parried, was struck in the arm, and returned a blow.

Realising he had instinctively thrown up a magical shield to protect himself, Thom muttered a spell under his breath, enlarging it so that they were all surrounded by the shield.

Seeing what he was doing, Jon threaded his own sapphire magic into the amethyst ball of light that surrounded them, warning the other's to stay inside of it.

Another demon struck, again aiming for Gary, whose wound, though it did not appear to be particularly serious, hampered his movement, and Raoul seized the chance to stab through the demon's unguarded side. The demon howled, disappearing without a trace, and one of the women screamed in apparent anguish, lunching herself at the shield - and straight at Thom!

Thom held up his sword, but fear made him lose control of it, and the woman grabbed it, neatly snapping it in half, before beginning to assault the shield around Thom, and four of the remaining five rushed at the others, knowing that the shield would protect them only as long as Thom - and Jonathon   - could hold it up.

 The demon-woman shrieked and grabbed hold of part of the shield as if it were made of cloth, and Thom sent it spinning up through her arm and to her heart, expanding until she blew apart at the force of Thom's enlarged gift pulsing up the arm still connected to his shield.

Two down, five to go, thought Thom grimly.

Jon threw a ball of fire at one of the demons attacking him, and it screamed as the blue flames licked up it's body, a brief pillar of fire before it crumbled to an ash which then disappeared altogether.

Four...

Gary slashed at the demon-man that attacked him, and it jumped back, joining the one demon that had not yet fought.

The demon who had stood apart for all this time turned his head slightly, looking at Thom, and all of a sudden Thom felt a sharp twisting pain like a dagger being thrust into his brain. He fell to his knees with a cry, and sent a stab of pure magic towards the demon, missing it's target and hitting another of their assailants, who disappeared in a cloud of yellow smoke.

The last stepped back, joining the two who stood slightly away from the young men.

Then the demon that had stood silently while it's kindred died, smiled, showing long, white fangs, and reached out a hand with long, claw-like nails.

"The others were fools, but you are weak now."

He walked towards them, the other two trailing close behind, one on each side.

Standing between Raoul and Jon, Thom tried to swallow, his mouth dry, desperately running through all the spells he had ever learnt, for even if had had any skill with a sword, it was broken now.

"Mithros," Raoul whispered as an enormous two-handed black sword appeared in the demon's claws.

Mithros ...of course!

His mind flew back to when Jon had been dying of the Sweating Sickness, and Alanna chanting a spell beside him to summon the greater powers - the Goddess - and the variation used to call on Mithros that he had learnt long ago as a child at Trebond.

He closed his eyes, drawing all his magic back into himself, hardly realising that the shield he had been holding for so long was gone, or the way Jon's sapphire Gift shimmered into it's place.

Beside him, Jon saw the demon grin wickedly, and realised that he thought that Thom had used up all his magic. Jon was sure Thom had a greater Gift than that though, and hearing a low chant beside him, suddenly realised that Thom was reciting a complicated spell in a language Jon did not know yet could somehow understand.

Thom's brow furrowed in concentration, and he whispered the words that would release his Gift, sending it flowing towards the demons in a wave of destruction. Somehow  'seeing' the magic, he realised that the gaps in it would reduce it, and he grabbed onto Raoul both physically and magically, 'borrowing' his energy.

Beside him, Jon recognised at last Thom's spell, and threw his own magic into as well as the energy of Gary beside him, following Thom's example.

The last thing any of them say before they collapsed was the Bazhir demon being blown away into impossible tiny pieces, like so many grains of sand upon the desert wind.