Disclaimer: Valdemar, Heralds, Companions etc … none of that belongs to me, it's all the property of Mercedes Lackey. I'm just borrowing the characters for a while … apart from Aline who is most definitely mine : )

A/N: Heya – I apologise if this chapter seems a little rushed but I wanted to get it out today and yet I've been really busy with revision for my A Levels and writing the other 6 or so stories that I'm working on at the same time … multi-tasking is harder than it looks!

Anyway, the thankyous are once again at the bottom of the chappie, so without further ado, here is the answer to the question: 'is the horrible author going to kill yet ANOTHER character' : )

Oh and this chapter is dedicated to new readers Shadowfax and Nesuto – I hope you guys enjoy the chappie and continue to review!

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After the Storm

By: JoeyStar

Timeframe: Set a year or so after Owlknight

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(Healer's Collegium – Private Room)

Someone must be coming.

All of this noise … someone must have heard us. So someone must be coming.

'Where is she!?'

I don't know. I wish you would stop asking me because I don't know what you mean.

Someone must be coming … surely?

'Where is she?!"

Who? I don't understand. How can I answer a question that I don't understand?

Why doesn't anybody come?

'WHERE IS SHE?!'

Princess Lyra? Herald Elspeth? Keisha? Herald Talia? The Queen?

Abruptly, the voice stopped. A ringing silence eased it way into his mind, pushing aside the agonising power that had threatened to destroy him. The respite was blessed – there had never been anything so beautiful in his life – and it brought with it a sense of deep-seeded peace.

Is this … am I … am I dead?

There was no reply. Nothing. He felt his body begin to relax; the tears were starting to dry on his face and he imagined that even the blood trickling down his cheek had slowed.

I am … I am dead … the thought had a clarity to it that startled him. Dead? Was he really dead?

It was funny, but he hadn't imagined that death would hurt so much. Despite the tranquillity that the silence had brought, he could still feel the after effects of the servant's power and though his body was relaxing against the ground, his muscles were still trembling so much that it seemed as if the floor was vibrating.

And he had to wonder at the abrupt removal of his tormentor. Somehow he had pictured death as a gentle slide into oblivion, not a sharp push into a cushioned but still razor-sharp new plane. If he truly had passed into the Havens then why was his head still pounding so fiercely?

"Darian? Darian!'

Someone was calling his name. Someone … had come?

'Darian? Darian can you hear me? Darian – open your eyes!'

If someone was calling him … then did that mean that he wasn't dead?

'Darian, ke'chara …'

That voice …

'…Keisha?' he whispered in fractured voice, wondering whether he was dreaming.

'Darian!' He felt hands on his shoulders and he winced uncontrollably.

'Be careful,' a worn voice said, 'he has many injuries that we cannot see. I could … do nothing to help him …'

'But I can.' There was no doubt that the voice was Keisha. He felt her firm hands upon his temple and recognised her business-like approach to the situation. If she hadn't distanced herself then in all likelihood she would have been little use to him. 'Darian … just relax …'

He braced himself, uncertain how her powers might affect the damage done to his body by the servant's magic – but he was pleasantly surprised when instead of aggravate the wounds as he had feared, the cool magic flowing from Keisha's hands soothed the damaged nerve ends and reduce the pain in his head to a distant ache. By the time she removed her palms from his forehead, his body had finally stilled and he slowly opened his eyes.

Keisha was kneeling beside him, her hair in disarray and hanging in tangled clumps around her face. Sitting on the floor, a little way behind her, his back braced against the side of Lyra's bed, was Silverfox. His eyes were closed and for one terrible moment, Darian thought the Havens might have claimed a life after all. Then he caught sight of the shallow rise and fall of Silverfox's chest and realised his fears were unfounded.

A sudden thought struck Darian – where was the servant? He was about to ask Keisha who, knowing her duty as a Healer, had shuffled across the floor to attend to Silverfox, when he realised that there was something lying on the ground in the open doorway – something that Keisha had been previously blocking.

Darian shifted his weight slightly, so that his hands braced himself against the floor. It was still painful to move but necessity compelled he find out who had collapsed so suddenly and filled the doorway.

He had barely moved a foot before he recognised the uniform of a palace servant and then beyond that, the face of the man that had nearly killed him. A gasp rose involuntarily to his lips as his eyes scanned the man who had caused him so much pain. The servant didn't appear to be dead – Darian felt a pulse when he hesitantly touched the man's wrist – but he was clearly unconscious. Even stranger than this phenomenon was the presence of an empty copper bedpan, which had apparently been discarded just within the door.

'What happened here?' Darian asked, his voice grating against his ears.

Keisha looked up from tending Silverfox and Darian was amazed to see her blushing hotly. 'I … I well – I was coming back to check on Lyra and – and –' her hands twisted in her lap, 'and I heard you crying and I saw what he was doing and so I … I picked up the bedpan and I … well I hit him with it.'

Darian stared at her. 'You hit him … with a bedpan?'

'I had to stop him!' Keisha protested, cheeks burning. 'He's was hurting you!'

'But … a bedpan?'

She stared back at him and his lips started quivering. Her eyes narrowed. 'Darian – this isn't funny. He could have killed you!'

Darian lips had already twisted into a smile and his sides were beginning to shake with suppressed laughter.

'It isn't funny!' Keisha shouted, rising to her feet and planting her hands on her hips.

'… A – a bedpan!' Darian gasped out, dissolving into helpless giggles. Keisha maintained her irritated posture for several long moments but then couldn't help but see the humour of the situation. Her stern expression slipped away and she began laughing.

When Firesong entered the room, bare moments later, he was confronted by the baffling sight of his two protégés dissolved in fits of laughter over an unconscious man's body while Silverfox looked on with a weary smile on his face.

For one of the first times in his life, Firesong was completely struck dumb. He gaped at the incomprehensible scene, wracking his brain for something to say.

Finally Silverfox happened to look up and notice him. Though the kestra'chern's skin was ashen, it lightened considerably when he caught sight of Firesong, standing in the doorway.

'Oh ke'chara, you came too late and missed all the fun,' the dark haired man said tiredly.

On Firesong's shoulder, Aya squawked, mirroring his bondmate's confusion.

'What in the name of the Star-Eyed is going on here?' he demanded, eyes wide.

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(Haven – Lord Orthallen's house)

Skif had to admit, even though it had been some years since he has last entered the home of the late Lord Orthallen, the interior of the mansion was still one of the most beautiful he had ever seen, even in all his time as a thief. It rivalled the palace in terms of its elegance with its sweeping marble floors and pristine white walls upon which gilt-framed portraits hung.

As the officious serving man led them down yet another seemingly endless corridor, Skif found himself pausing before one of the pictures and looking up at the handsome man portrayed there with a bittersweet smile on his face.

'Kris'. Kero said flatly from beside him.

'He's dressed in his whites,' Skif observed, 'and he looks fairly old … this must have been done just before he went to Hardorn.'

'Not exactly the mark of a man who hates Heralds,' Kero murmured in an undertone. 'To have a picture of one hanging in his hall – even if it was his son.'

'Excuse me!' the serving man said sharply, 'my Master is not seeing you at his own convenience, you know. Now will you please follow me!'

Skif and Kero shared a look that involved much raising of eyebrows and rolling of eyes before they fell-in behind the serving man and obediently follow him down the corridor.

:Problems, Chosen?: a lazy voice remarked from with Skif's mind.

:Haven't you got a foal to look after?: he returned affectionately, knowing full well that Cymry's foal – the result of too much time alone with Talia's Rolan – was more than capable enough of looking after himself by now.

I: could have another one if you'd like …: Cymry suggested wickedly.

Skif blanched. :One was enough, thank you!:

Cymry snickered and then sobered again. :Do you really think Lord Drevin could have done this?:

Skif shrugged. :His serving man doesn't like us. I bet he used to work for Lord Orthallen.:

:It's likely that many of the servants here did,: Cymry observed.

:Lots of loyalty to Orthallen.:

:Not necessarily, Chosen,: she disagreed. :Your suspicious nature makes you see enemies everywhere. Many of the people here probably disliked Lord Orthallen as much as you did.:

:I think dislike is too gentle a term.:

:And who more so than Lord Drevin?:

There was something that had never occurred to Skif. The notion that Drevin might hate his brother as much as the Heralds did – well now that Cymry had raised the question, Skif had to admit that it made a great deal of sense. And with everything else that they had heard so far about Kris's father – that he wasn't someone who held grudges; that he hadn't viewed the Heralds as being responsible for Kris's death … who else was there for him to blame but his deceased brother? The man who had almost single-handedly turned the whole of Valdemar over to the mercy of Ancar of Hardorn. Perhaps they had come to Lord Drevin's house not so much seeking an adversary but seeking an ally.

'In here, if you please.' The servant pushed open one side of a pair of large, white doors, whose gilded panels only further promoted the illusion of luxury that belonged to the mansion. 'Lord Drevin is waiting for you.'

Kero made to enter the room and Skif was about to follow when the serving man cleared his throat pointedly. Kero looked at him with one raised eyebrow – a look that Skif had come to know as Kero on the edge of loosing her temper. He mentally crossed his fingers and hoped the older woman wasn't about to cause a diplomatic incident. Had Eldan been with them then he might have been able to hold his lover back. Skif suddenly missed his calming presence.

'You have a quarter of a candlemark,' the serving man stated plainly, 'and no longer. I shall return at the end of the time and I shall expect you to be ready to leave.'

Kero stared at him and Skif braced himself for an explosion. He was pleasantly surprised though when his fellow Heralds simply smiled sweetly. 'Thank you so much,' she said in honeyed tones, 'its so nice to have someone take charge like this. Where would we be without you?' With another dazzling smile she swept past the snooty serving man and into the room.

Skif hurried after her, hastily covered his uncontrollable snickers with one hand. Sometimes Kero was so wicked to people and what made it even more amusing was that most of the time they were completely unaware that she was being insincere. There was nothing more guaranteed to make him laugh than Kero being contrary.

As soon as Skif stepped inside the room, his eyes widened. Even with his previous knowledge of the grandeur of Orthallen's house, this room alone held enough riches to make a smart, ex-thief's head spin. If the corridors outside has been impressive then this, surely, was the hidden jewel of the Orthallen household.

The room, as the rest of the house, was ornately decorated with a high ceiling and beautiful floor length windows that looked forth onto a perfectly kept garden and beyond that, a high garden wall that firmly shut out the rest of the Haven. The floor was marble, the walls were white and panelled, the panels decorated with gold filigree even as the door had been. The gold glinted brightly in the light of the numerous candle flames that flickered in their holders which stood every two feet or so, in tiny alcoves.

And then there was the actual content of the room. Antique furniture the like of which Skif had never seen before. Cabinets filled with priceless ornaments: delicate crystal figurines, porcelain vases and cut glassware. One of those cabinets alone would have fed the average family for tens of years – and there were at least twenty of them, lining the walls of the room.

Yet even these were overshadowed by the centrepiece of the room, a magnificent chandelier whose glass teardrops reflected the candle light back across the marble floor, creating a waterfall of light and colour. Skif had never seen anything like this room. It literally made him catch his breath and stared in wide-eyed wondered, like a child who had just stumbled into the largest sweetshop in Valdemar.

He caught Kero eyeing him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye.

:Kero says: 'don't even think about it',: Cymry told him, no doubt repeating the message from Kero's Sayvel. Though Kero was a very strong mindspeaker, Skif wasn't strong enough to receive any but his Companion – anyone that was alive, that was.

He smiled at her characteristic comment. :Tell her not to worry,: he replied, :my thieving days are over.:

Cymry snorted in disbelief but passed on his message.

Kero strode across the smooth floor, her boots sounding impossibly loud as she headed towards the group of chairs positioned by one window. The lighter Skif followed more quietly, catching sight of the reason behind Kero's direction; the figure of a man who had risen to great them as soon as they had entered the room.

Skif first impression of Lord Drevin, as they drew closer and finally halted in front of him, was that the man looked weary. The mixture of candlelight from the alcoves and natural light from the windows only highlighted the lines of his face, making him appear older than he probably was.

It was easy to see where Kris had received his good looks from. Despite the lines that creased his forehead and the strands of grey in his hair, Lord Drevin's face still held the beauty that had marked his son's so. His deep blue eyes were clear and as he held out his hand to Kero and she shook it, Skif observed that his grip was strong and steady. He certainly didn't have to look of someone who had just betrayed his kingdom but then again, neither had Lord Orthallen.

'Welcome, Heralds, to my home. I apologise for Marin – he takes his work very seriously.'

'It's admirable to see such dedication in a man.' Skif said before Kero could say anything. He ignored the annoyed glance she shot him and introduced them instead. 'I am Herald Skif and this is Herald Kerowyn.'

'Skif.' Lord Drevin's eyes narrowed in thought. 'I recognise that name.'

'I was a friend of your son's.' Skif supplied gently, wondering whether he was wise to mention Kris.

Lord Drevin's expression cleared. 'Of course – yes, Kris mentioned you a couple of times in his letters. Oh, won't you sit down?' he indicated the empty chairs either side of him.

They sat gratefully, Skif sitting upright for once instead of assuming his habitual slouching posture.

When he saw that they were comfortable, Lord Drevin spoke again. 'Might I ask what your purpose is here? I don't mean to be rude but it has been some time since I have hosted a pair of Heralds.'

Skif held his tongue, knowing it was wiser to let Kero handle this part of the conversation. Otherwise he'd just get berated after they had left the house.

'Lord Drevin, I'm sure you couldn't have failed to hear about the attack on the Queen's children some weeks past,' Kero said without preamble.

Lord Drevin rubbed one hand across his chin. 'Why yes of course. It was a tragic happening. But what does that have to do with me?'

'Recent evidence has come to light concerning a weapon involved in the attack.'

'Go on.'

'It was originally identified as a set of two knives but through some luck we were able to identify the manufacture of the weapon.'

Lord Drevin abruptly sat forward in his chair. 'This is about my knives isn't it? The ones from the Gryphon Armoury?'

Kero stared at him in surprised and Skif was equally taken aback. 'Well … yes,' she said after a brief pause to collect her thoughts. 'But I don't know how you could know that.'

Lord Drevin frowned. 'Well of course I know! After all, it was me who filed the report to say that they had been stolen!'

'Stolen?' Kero repeated blankly.

Lord Drevin's frown deepened. 'You're not here about my stolen knives?'

Kero shook her head, but not in response to the question, more as if she was trying to shake her brain into some semblance of order. 'Let me get this straight: you purchased a pair of rare, expensive knives from the Gryphon Armoury … and they were stolen?'

'Yes, about a month ago now, only a couple of days after I had purchased them.'

'And you filed a report?'

'With the city constabulary. I know Heralds don't normally handle such cases but I just assumed …' Lord Drevin trailed off. 'If you're not here about that then why are you here?'

Kero licked her lips. 'Lord Drevin … we believe that these knives of yours were the ones used in the attack upon the Queen's children.'

'Good Lord!'

'And we were here to ask if you had them in your possession.'

'Well I've just told you that I don't – wait,' he stared hard at Kero and his expression changed from one of shock to one of suspicion. 'You thought that I had something to do with this, didn't you?'

'Lord Drevin we were merely covering every –'

'No!' he cut her off sharply. 'You thought that I was part of a plot to kill the heirs to the throne, didn't you?'

Kero sighed and admitted defeat with her next words. 'Yes, my Lord.'

Lord Drevin stared at her for a moment longer and then looked away, laughing bitterly. 'Why, because my son was killed? Am I supposed to be seeking revenge against the evil Heralds who ripped my son away from me?' His eyes flickered back to Kero and now they were as hard as agate. 'Don't think the idea didn't cross my mind, Lady Herald. Kris was my only child … and I loved him, more than you can imagine. But something like this? Slaughtering the Queen's children? I cannot believe you would even think it of me – certainly not when there are those in the Heraldic Circle who know me personally!' He smashed his hand down on the arm of his chair, face red. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he drew himself up. 'I think I should like you to leave now.'

'My Lord –'

'Leave. Now.'

Kero opened her mouth to protest again but then apparently thought better of it. She prepared to rise when Skif reached out and touched her arm, freezing her in place. Both she and Lord Drevin looked across at him and he shuffled forward on his chair so that he could look Kris's father directly in the face.

'My lord Drevin, we do not come here lightly. We do not accuse you lightly. And your words here today have proved beyond all doubt, that in my mind you had nothing to do with the attack against the royal family. But what you must understand my lord, is that we are required to pursue ever avenue of investigation that there is, to try and get to the bottom of this attack and prevent another from happening. We believed that the weapon used to kill Prince Kris – your son's namesake – was originally purchased by you and it is for that reason that we came here to your home today. In truth my lord, neither I nor my companion believed in anything but your complete innocence but we had to be sure. I would hate for the attacker to get a chance to finish the job he started because of our negligence.'

Silence followed Skif's passionate words but they seemed to have had the desired effect. Kero looked thoughtful and she had relaxed back into her chair. The angry colour was fading from Lord Drevin's cheeks and he was watching Skif, his face unreadable. Skif breathed an internal sigh of relief because against all odds, he had succeeded in defusing the situation before it became too volatile.

:That was a good speech, Chosen,: Cymry told him seriously. :I think it was what he needed to hear.:

:Eldan would be proud,: he sent back with a smile.

Lord Drevin cleared his throat and looked askance at Kero. 'I apologise for my hasty words, Herald Kerowyn. I should not have spoken so sharply.'

'And I apologise for my accusation, my Lord,' Kero replied sincerely. 'As Skif said, you do not deserve our suspicion.'

Skif looked from one to the other and back again. 'Well now that we're all friends again, do you think we could ask a few questions about the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of your knives, my Lord?'

Lord Drevin laughed at Skif's directness, while Kero rolled her eyes despairingly. 'You may ask away, young Skif, though I don't know how much I will be able to tell you. It was some time ago now,' he drummed his fingers against the wooden chair-arm. 'In fact, you might very well do better searching out the report I filed. I made sure that it was as detailed as it could be.'

'I think we shall –' Kero broke off so abruptly that Skif was about to ask her what was wrong when he too found his attention grabbed by something else.

:Chosen, there has been a development,: Cymry told him, sounding excited. :The servant – the attacker? – he has returned to the palace. They have captured him!:

Skif didn't need to ask who 'they' were; Cymry had sent a barrage of mental pictures along with the verbal message. :Tell them we are on our way.:

'Lord Drevin?' he heard Kero say as he returned his concentration to the situation at hand. 'I am afraid that we are going to have to take our leave of you.'

'Is there a problem?' the man asked, sounding confused. He probably was; he had no way of knowing that their Companions had just told them that their suspect had been apprehended.

'There have been some developments that require our immediate attention,' Skif said smoothly, rising from the chair and holding out his hand. 'It was a pleasure to meet you.'

'And you,' Lord Drevin rose also, still looking slightly bewildered.

'We shall return if we discover anything more about your knives,' Kero told him quickly, also rising.

As if on cue, the door by which they had entered was opened from the outside and the officious serving man entered the room. 'My Lord, your Lady wife is entertaining your guests in the solarium. She requests that you join her.'

'Of course.' Lord Drevin turned to both the Heralds. 'I wish you all the luck in your investigation. To think that my knives are the ones that …' he shook his head. 'I don't even want to think about it.'

Kero smiled sympathetically, her expression true for once and not sarcastic, before she turned and walked swiftly towards the exit, Skif on her heels. They passed the dedicated serving man without comment and were soon almost running down the corridors of Orthallen's house, towards the entrance where their Companions were waiting to bear them back to the palace.

'So,' Skif puffed as they ran, 'do you still think Lord Drevin had anything to do with it?'

Kero shook her head. 'No – he was telling the truth. I would like to see that report though.'

'I could go and get it,' Skif offered.

'Really?' Kero seemed surprised. 'You don't want to see the prisoner?'

'They'll be plenty of time for that later,' Skif assured her grimly. 'There are a few things I would very much like to say to him.'

'Join the queue.'

'You do realise that without Lord Drevin, we have no suspects?'

'Except for this servant, whoever he is.'

'Except for the servant,' Skif agreed. 'But surely he must be working for somebody?'

'Maybe. Maybe not.'

'I would have thought that 'maybe' is the more likely of the two,' Skif decided. 'After all, what possible reason could a servant have for attacking the royal family?'

'Revenge is a powerful motive,' Kero pointed out as the walked out into the bright sunlight and nodded to the guards at the door.

'But why would a servant be seeking revenge?' Skif asked as Cymry and Savyel emerged from the dark interior of the stable and crossed towards them.

Kero shrugged, squinting up at the sun as she judged the time. 'I suppose we will probably find out before too long. Be as quick as you can, okay? If we have a bit of luck then we might just be approaching the end of all of this business.'

'Right.' Skif swung up into Cymry's saddle.

:Where are we going?:

:To find a very important document,: he told her. :Come on, dearheart, as fast as you can!:

Cymry needed no further encouragement. With a wild spin of her hindquarters she gave Skif just enough time to toss Kero a hasty salute before she was galloping out of the yard and away from Orthallen's mansion.

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(Palace – Secure Room)

:You have failed me …:

The servant started as the voice broke through his terrified thoughts of torture at the hand of the Heralds.

:You have failed me …:

:M-Master …?:

:You have failed me …:

:Master I – I … she was not –:

:SILENCE!:

The man cried out as the word ripped through his fragile mind.

:You have failed me … for the last time. So now, now I'm going to take back what is mine.:

The man's pupils dilated with fear. :No! Please Master – don't! I'll get out! I'll try again – and I'll succeed this time, I promise! Just don't take it away from me!:

:You're even more pathetic than I thought. You weren't deserving of this in the first place.:

:No!: the man fell to his knees, hands clasped as he beseeched someone who wasn't there. :Master – Master please –:

:RETURN!:

The servant let loose such a mournful shriek – such a cry of pure, undiluted pain – that it brought his guards into the room like shot.

Unfortunately, by the time they had opened the locks and bypassed the magical protections, all they found was the serving man, sitting in the corner of an empty room, staring blankly at nothing.

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So there you have it – I DIDN'T kill Darian and I DIDN'T kill Silverfox either! Now don't you all just love me? Anyway, on to the thankyous:

Storm Queen: Hey – nice to hear from you again and I hope you liked the fact that I actually remembered to MENTION Nyara within the last few chappies : ) She might even make a brief appearance in the next one, if she's lucky.

Hildi-chan: Aww … I just wanted to make you sweat! I was never serious about killing Darian – things have only just started picking up again after Kris's death – killing Darian would just be TOO depressing!

Owl: I'm really relieved the reason you disliked chapter one wasn't because the story was rubbish! Now apostrophes used incorrectly – there is something I can correct!

Desert Angel: is this last bit mysterious enough for you? I'm glad you liked the cliffy – I think the story was about due for one : )

faeborn2930: I don't want to give too much away … but you were pretty close with some of your guessing in that last review!

Konitsu: another reviewer returned from the land of none-reviewyness! Welcome back – I hope you like how the story is progressing. Oh and a pissed off Firesong … I'll see what I can do for the next chappie!

Shadowfax: Hehe – I have nothing personal against people called Kris … this just kinda, well die in my stories : ) I have actually read a couple of the Storm books but it's been so long I'm working from memory there. Thanks for the note about An'desha – I'll try and improve his characterisation as the story continues.

Lizai: hope you like the resolution of the Darian/Silverfox scene! And I can promise you more action in some of the future chappies because the plot is unravelling rapidly now!

Queen's Own: Here's your update and guess what, Lyra's still sleeping!

etcetera-cat: dammit! I changed that stupid 'rulars' seconds before posting the chapter /sigh/ I should have gone with my gut instinct on that one – oh well … oh and I know what you mean about the fight scene … something seemed a little off somehow … I'm sure it will come to me eventually …

Pyrinsomniac: naaa, I couldn't kill Darian! He's too nice : ) But I can't really kill Keisha either … because Darian would get all sad and the story would turn depressing again …

Nesuto: hmm … interesting take on the Lyra thing – I hadn't thought of it being perceived as that. I'm not going to give anything away but your way off on the Lyra thing at the moment – but don't worry, everything will eventually be explained : )

Okay, next chappie:

- The servant is questioned!

- Skif finds Lord Drevin's report

- This plot actually starts making sense …. : )

As always, please read and review!!