Okay, I actually liked that chapter better than the last one. Thanx Rivan Codex and SweetLee for adding your reviews. I would like to continue to invite reviews-especially the helpful ones that tell me what I'm doing wrong or that have suggestions about what might make the story better. The Knights and Co. belong to David Eddings, as does the world that they're traveling in. Noel and all the demons belong to me. *Evil look.* ;)
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One of Sephrenia's first orders of business upon arriving in the little town was to find a dress maker. Sparhawk was right. Noel couldn't run around with her "battle gear" on. So now they were standing in Sephrenia's room, Noel making faces as they listened to the seamstresses comments.
"No undergarments! That's absolutely outrageous. I'm a good, god-fearing woman and I would never be caught dead without decent undergarments on! And these rags that you call clothes! Atrocious!" The thin, old woman looked accusingly at Aphrael. "And to travel with your children and not even know who the father is. Why, someone should drag the lot of you to a church and marry you to the first god-fearing man that the priest can find. At least the child's soul might be saved." The prattle had been going on like this for hours. The only reason that Noel, Sephrenia, and Aphrael put up with it was because she was the only dressmaker in town. "You'll have your clothes by the end of the day," the seamstress finally said. "Although it will cost just a little more. I'm a god-fearing woman and I wouldn't want my customer's souls to be in danger because they didn't honor their doings with man. May you both come to the truth and become god-fearing. God help your souls if you don't." With that, she huffed out.
"Do you mind if I go marching up and down the street naked now?" Noel asked archly.
Aphrael laughed. "No, you'd better not do that. I'd rather not distract our noble champions any more than they already are," Sephrenia replied. "If you did go, however, I know that I'd be sorely tempted to join you. I am a heathen, after all." She smiled slightly and Noel chuckled.
A polite knock on the door interrupted their ranting. "Come in," Sephrenia called.
Bevier peered into the room. Noel started laughing. "Here, Sephrenia, is one champion who would doubtless continue to act honorably amid our heathen acts. No doubt Sir Bevier would tackle us both to the ground and tie us up in his cloak so that we would remain modest...and perhaps save our souls in the process. You are a god-fearing man, are you not, Sir Bevier?"
He looked thoroughly confused, but nodded anyway. "I just came to tell you that Sparhawk and Kalten are going into town to ask some questions. Tynian thought a trip to the local graveyard might... 'unearth' I believe is the word he used, more answers."
Noel looked curious. "Is there a reason why he said, 'unearth,' and why you look so sour saying it?"
"Tynian practices necromancy," Sephrenia answered.
All gaiety left Noel's face. "Then I will accompany him. Sephrenia, may I borrow one of your robes until my new clothes are made? If any 'incidents' happen, I can't promise that you'll get it back."
Sephrenia shrugged. "It's only a white robe. Help yourself. Bevier, would you be nice enough to escort Noel to the graveyard? I wouldn't be surprised if Tynian has left already." Bevier nodded and waited while Noel pulled one of Sephrenia's robes over her battle gear, then stepped out the door with her.
The walk to the graveyard didn't take long. Tynian was at the far end, muttering over some unmarked graves. The words sent a chill through one's body, causing the hair on the back of the neck to stand on end. Bevier's jaw tightened the closer they came. Noel continued to walk without apparent concern.
As they reached Tynian, a ghost came up from the mound. "Hail brother," it intoned tonelessly. The ghost was wearing Alcione armor. "Why hast thou brought me from the House of the Dead?"
"Hail brother," Tynian greeted in return. "We seek the jewel Bhelliom and seek answer from our brothers who no longer suffer the shackles of the living."
"Do not be so quick to leave life," the knight said. His tone was almost wistful. "Bhelliom was lost to the world, but continue thy quest-or the darkness shall consume us all. Find the lake where the last Thalesian king to wear Bhelliom fought. There, thou wilt find a lake. Bhelliom rests at it's bottom. Beware Ghwerig. He seeks to own his jewel again."
"Thank you, brother," Tynian responded. Sweat was starting to stream down his face from the effort of keeping the ghost in this world. "Return to thy well-earned rest. Farewell."
"Farewell and pray for me," the ghost replied. It then sank silently back into the grave.
Tynian fell back with a gasp. "That's hard work," he told Bevier and Noel. Bevier stepped forward to help him to his feet.
Noel was watching the grave intently. Her body seemed to be shimmering slightly. "Step away from the grave," she told them tightly.
"What's wrong?" they asked.
"Get back!" she repeated. Her hair fell out of it's french braid, held up on the sides by combs in the same 5 jewels that they first met her in. Sephrenia's robes burst into brilliant flame and when they could look at her again, she was dressed in a dress that was slit up to mid-thigh. "GET BACK!" she roared as the ground near the grave erupted.
A creature in a dark green robe flew up from the hole, black light emanating from it. It's face was hidden by a deep cowl. Scaly black claws came out from the sleeves and began weaving. It spoke in a deep, rumbling voice. The words-if they were words-were unintelligible to human ears.
Tynian and Bevier scrambled back behind Noel, staring with wide eyes. Noel threw her hands up in front of her face, as if trying to ward off a physical blow, and the air in front of her shimmered with darkness. When the darkness abated, she faced the creature again. She clasped her hands together, then raised her forefingers, laying them flat against each other. She lifted her hands so that her fingers pointed at her forehead. At that point, light began to gather, gaining in intensity. Noel closed her eyes in concentration, the light becoming to brilliant to be looked at. The air crackled with power as the creature launched a red fireball at them.
Noel suddenly threw both hands forward, the insides of her wrists pressed together. She spread her fingers wide. A yellow, almost white, fireball roared from her joined wrists, spreading to the size of her spread fingers, and growing as it spiraled away from her. It struck the monster's fireball and engulfed it. The creature threw back it's head and howled, erupting in yellow/white flame. Noel dropped her hands and the fire ceased. The ashes from the incinerated monster drifted slowly to the ground.
"You idiot!" she snarled, spinning to berate Tynian. "Don't you know any necromantic spells that don't leave a doorway wide open? We could have been inundated with an entire army of Dzart mages! One isn't so bad, but an entire army? Close the door, this instant!" She pointed towards the burial mound, eyes burning with fury. Tynian leapt to his feet and muttered the incantation that ended the spell that brought them the Alcione ghost...and the Dzark mage. "We are now returning to Sephrenia." Noel turned and stalked back to the inn, the two knights trailing in her wake.