A/N: *mumbles incoherently behind a huge stack of paper* Must finish, must finish, must finish…. You get my drift. Revenge is turning out very good. Rekindled is…. Let's not get too much into that… Yes, I agree with many people that Joren would have died in the Ordeal whether or not Kel was there, however, this IS A FIC. Meaning that I can do whatever the hell I want with Tammy's characters. Besides, I only thought to try a hand at Kel/Joren fics. This is a first. Well enjoy this chapter as always! Toodles!!!
Revenge
Chapter Six: Tortall's Underworld
By: DarkDracon0
Joren made sure his clothes appeared not from a noble's wardrobe but from a very rich underworlder. Meaning that he did resemble a nobleman but tucked in were knives and various torture toys that were the current fashion. And he well knew how to use them all with skill and precision. A stable boy waited for him outside, holding the reins of his own gelding, Cantor. Cantor snorted and reared his head back to greet his master. He hadn't taken Cantor to ride as often as he had before and the giant was over seventeen hands of barely restrained power.
Climbing quickly into the saddle, Joren rode into the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel was tossing her dagger. Only tossing it into the air and catching it skillfully. Quite a habit for a supposedly proper lady. Leaning against the wall by the window, she peered out through the draperies. The window faced the gardens, all very alluring as well as beautiful in the full moon. The room was dark, the way she preferred it. No candles, only the comforting darkness. She knew it would always comfort her, as it had before. Kel's eyes darkened.
Moving silently, she lighted a candle and sat at the writing desk. Wetting the quill with ink, Kel began her report on the creamy parchment.
To: LR
From: KM
Everything is on schedule. No interruptions or recognition among the knights have occurred. Stone Mountain has taken a suspicious interest in me, but it is doubtful that he recognizes me. Route through the city has been established. All is well.
Kel stared at the neat writing. Yes, everything was well. If things continued to be well, she would get her revenge very soon.
Carefully folding the message, she knocked on Laine's room.
"Yes, my lady?" came her voice, heavy with sleep.
"Report to the lord." Laine opened the door, took the message and nodded at Kel. "How was your day, by the way?"
"I'd rather take on a band of raiders than repeat it, much less recount it for your benefit." Laine laughed. "It was that good?"
"Go back to bed and send the damn report."
"Yes, my lady," Laine replied in a suspiciously demure voice that did not become her at all. Kel didn't even bother to comment. Laine grinned sleepily and closed the door after her. Kel walked back to her place by the window. Staring back out again, she wondered if she was really doing the right thing. Assassinating the king of a powerful country and throwing it into a potential civil war as well as civil unrest. That would cost lives. Many lives. Shaking off the thought, she wondered about Sir Joren. Who was he? Did he normally make such advances on ladies? She'd have to watch out for him. The last thing she needed was to fall in love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joren rode out to a large tavern, handing the reins over to a young stable boy and pressed a silver noble in his hand to ensure that Cantor wouldn't be relieved of his possession. Walking inside, he spotted numerous thieves and murderers, all wanted by the Lord Provost. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and female servers walking about, showing off their bodies in a way that would ensure they would not spend the night alone. A few eyes turned his way, but he was quickly ignored. Knights and squires involved with the dark side of humanity was not uncommon. Neither were agents of the Lord Provost, whether their intentions were noble or not.
Spotting him by one of the tables with a leggy server girl that could hardly be more than fourteen in his lap, Joren walked to his table, pulled out a chair and sat. The face who looked up from the server's breasts was clean shaven and young, but with the harden edge in his eyes that said he was a veteran in this world of darkness. And that face grinned. Keeping the girl in his hold, he roared out his laughter.
"So the young god lives! Where've ye been Sir Joren? Are ye down with us bastards for business or a bed mate for the cold, lonely night?" Joren only smiled slightly. "Spheal, there's a matter of importance that I'd like to speak to you about."
Spheal raised his brows at Joren's lowered voice and serious tone. "Speak your important matter here then." Joren fixed his eyes to Spheal's. "I would appreciate it if we spoke of it alone." Spheal stared at Joren before whispering something in the girl's ear and getting up. The girl scurried away. Gesturing for Joren to follow, they both went up the stairs to, what Joren supposed, Spheal's room. Spheal unlocked the door to his room and walked in, Joren trailing behind him. Joren only glanced at his surroundings. A window by the bed, a fireplace, mirror and wash basin. Of course, there were the little decorations and necessities that were obviously stolen, such as the candle holder made out of spun gold, the rich Bazhir rug that the makers rarely sold or perhaps the sword with diamonds and sapphires the size of a man's thumb joint that rested on top of the writing desk.
Joren only looked at the sword and recognized it as more of a decoration or ceremony sword. It was probably stolen from Raven Armory's museum of old and famed weapons.
Spheal waved his hand at a chair and sat down behind the desk with the sword in front of him. Joren sat, though he wasn't afraid of Spheal. Spheal was not skilled in the art of combat, more so in fast talking. He was a man who liked frills and showed off his collection of stolen artifacts, but he was a coward when it came to battle. Joren understood his weakness and there was a chance that he could take advantage of it. But for now, he'd settle for talk.
"So, Sir Joren, what would trouble ye enough to have us speaking alone in my own room?" Joren glanced at the sword again. It was a beautiful piece of work… "You've worked before in the syndicates, haven't you, Spheal?" Spheal started, surprised.
"The syndicates? What have ye got yourself into if your asking around about the syndicates? Ye know what they're doing now about curious eyes and questions?"
"Of course," Joren murmured. So the syndicates were getting more cautious, more secretive than before. Most likely killing their own members from giving out any information. "So that would mean that you don't work with them?" Spheal shook his head. "No, its too dangerous to work with them. They want absolute loyalty and if ye can't give 'em that, they wither torture ye or kill ye. Either way, you'll meet your end."
"Is that so…" Joren murmured again. Others like Spheal were smart enough to steer clear of the syndicates. It was obvious now that the syndicates disposed many of its members, enough to have others notice. "Do you know the Red Dragon syndicate?" Spheal's eyes widened now. "What are you getting yourself into?"
"I'm not planning on joining any syndicate, if that's what you mean. But there's a matter of our king's safety at hand here, and I need to know more about the syndicates, specifically, the Red Dragon. About during the time the Immortals war ended with Ozorne's defeat, we found Varik Rathor, the head of the Red Dragon, on the battlefield. He was suspected of giving Ozorne supplies and his own men. He was taken into custody by the Lord Provost and sentenced to imprisonment.
However, he escaped about three years later, with the aid of the Red Dragon. I've wondered where he would flee to, but the Yamani or Copper Isles was the best place. We've scored both areas and come up with nothing. So it could only be decided that he was in hiding and possibly planning retribution. We've word now that he's sent us an assassin, though we're not absolutely sure. Word has it that he's trained this one personally, which throws off the pattern we have on him. He's known for having many assassins in his employment, as well as training a few himself, but he usually has one of his men take on that task. He's never trained an assassin personally. This one is rumored to be the best, so we can only assume."
Spheal's mouth was gaping in shock or surprise, probably both. "Well," was Spheal's response to the large flow of information. Despite himself, Joren smiled. "Are you aware of any leader controlling Red Dragon? If there is one, it could be Rathor's puppet. However, if it is Rathor himself…" Joren glanced meaningfully at Spheal. "We'll have him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel trained her eyes on the target, despite the darkness, she knew her aim was right. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like a snake before striking. Her fingers tightened its grip on the tip of the blade. And the question on her mind rang out.
Am I doing the right thing? Of course she was. She was eliminating the man who killed one of her own, a man that was twisted enough to send an innocent child to her death.
Am I doing the right thing? This time, her stance faltered. With a growl of rage, she sent the dagger flying and didn't bother to look if she hit. She knew that she did.
Am I doing the right thing?
A/N: So how'd ya like it? Good, bad? I'd like constructive criticism, its gratefully appreciated. Oh, and sorry about the delay, Writer's block constantly plagues me. So the little ending was a bit of a psychological thriller. Who would have thought that Kel has a mental problem?
Revenge
Chapter Six: Tortall's Underworld
By: DarkDracon0
Joren made sure his clothes appeared not from a noble's wardrobe but from a very rich underworlder. Meaning that he did resemble a nobleman but tucked in were knives and various torture toys that were the current fashion. And he well knew how to use them all with skill and precision. A stable boy waited for him outside, holding the reins of his own gelding, Cantor. Cantor snorted and reared his head back to greet his master. He hadn't taken Cantor to ride as often as he had before and the giant was over seventeen hands of barely restrained power.
Climbing quickly into the saddle, Joren rode into the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel was tossing her dagger. Only tossing it into the air and catching it skillfully. Quite a habit for a supposedly proper lady. Leaning against the wall by the window, she peered out through the draperies. The window faced the gardens, all very alluring as well as beautiful in the full moon. The room was dark, the way she preferred it. No candles, only the comforting darkness. She knew it would always comfort her, as it had before. Kel's eyes darkened.
Moving silently, she lighted a candle and sat at the writing desk. Wetting the quill with ink, Kel began her report on the creamy parchment.
To: LR
From: KM
Everything is on schedule. No interruptions or recognition among the knights have occurred. Stone Mountain has taken a suspicious interest in me, but it is doubtful that he recognizes me. Route through the city has been established. All is well.
Kel stared at the neat writing. Yes, everything was well. If things continued to be well, she would get her revenge very soon.
Carefully folding the message, she knocked on Laine's room.
"Yes, my lady?" came her voice, heavy with sleep.
"Report to the lord." Laine opened the door, took the message and nodded at Kel. "How was your day, by the way?"
"I'd rather take on a band of raiders than repeat it, much less recount it for your benefit." Laine laughed. "It was that good?"
"Go back to bed and send the damn report."
"Yes, my lady," Laine replied in a suspiciously demure voice that did not become her at all. Kel didn't even bother to comment. Laine grinned sleepily and closed the door after her. Kel walked back to her place by the window. Staring back out again, she wondered if she was really doing the right thing. Assassinating the king of a powerful country and throwing it into a potential civil war as well as civil unrest. That would cost lives. Many lives. Shaking off the thought, she wondered about Sir Joren. Who was he? Did he normally make such advances on ladies? She'd have to watch out for him. The last thing she needed was to fall in love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joren rode out to a large tavern, handing the reins over to a young stable boy and pressed a silver noble in his hand to ensure that Cantor wouldn't be relieved of his possession. Walking inside, he spotted numerous thieves and murderers, all wanted by the Lord Provost. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and female servers walking about, showing off their bodies in a way that would ensure they would not spend the night alone. A few eyes turned his way, but he was quickly ignored. Knights and squires involved with the dark side of humanity was not uncommon. Neither were agents of the Lord Provost, whether their intentions were noble or not.
Spotting him by one of the tables with a leggy server girl that could hardly be more than fourteen in his lap, Joren walked to his table, pulled out a chair and sat. The face who looked up from the server's breasts was clean shaven and young, but with the harden edge in his eyes that said he was a veteran in this world of darkness. And that face grinned. Keeping the girl in his hold, he roared out his laughter.
"So the young god lives! Where've ye been Sir Joren? Are ye down with us bastards for business or a bed mate for the cold, lonely night?" Joren only smiled slightly. "Spheal, there's a matter of importance that I'd like to speak to you about."
Spheal raised his brows at Joren's lowered voice and serious tone. "Speak your important matter here then." Joren fixed his eyes to Spheal's. "I would appreciate it if we spoke of it alone." Spheal stared at Joren before whispering something in the girl's ear and getting up. The girl scurried away. Gesturing for Joren to follow, they both went up the stairs to, what Joren supposed, Spheal's room. Spheal unlocked the door to his room and walked in, Joren trailing behind him. Joren only glanced at his surroundings. A window by the bed, a fireplace, mirror and wash basin. Of course, there were the little decorations and necessities that were obviously stolen, such as the candle holder made out of spun gold, the rich Bazhir rug that the makers rarely sold or perhaps the sword with diamonds and sapphires the size of a man's thumb joint that rested on top of the writing desk.
Joren only looked at the sword and recognized it as more of a decoration or ceremony sword. It was probably stolen from Raven Armory's museum of old and famed weapons.
Spheal waved his hand at a chair and sat down behind the desk with the sword in front of him. Joren sat, though he wasn't afraid of Spheal. Spheal was not skilled in the art of combat, more so in fast talking. He was a man who liked frills and showed off his collection of stolen artifacts, but he was a coward when it came to battle. Joren understood his weakness and there was a chance that he could take advantage of it. But for now, he'd settle for talk.
"So, Sir Joren, what would trouble ye enough to have us speaking alone in my own room?" Joren glanced at the sword again. It was a beautiful piece of work… "You've worked before in the syndicates, haven't you, Spheal?" Spheal started, surprised.
"The syndicates? What have ye got yourself into if your asking around about the syndicates? Ye know what they're doing now about curious eyes and questions?"
"Of course," Joren murmured. So the syndicates were getting more cautious, more secretive than before. Most likely killing their own members from giving out any information. "So that would mean that you don't work with them?" Spheal shook his head. "No, its too dangerous to work with them. They want absolute loyalty and if ye can't give 'em that, they wither torture ye or kill ye. Either way, you'll meet your end."
"Is that so…" Joren murmured again. Others like Spheal were smart enough to steer clear of the syndicates. It was obvious now that the syndicates disposed many of its members, enough to have others notice. "Do you know the Red Dragon syndicate?" Spheal's eyes widened now. "What are you getting yourself into?"
"I'm not planning on joining any syndicate, if that's what you mean. But there's a matter of our king's safety at hand here, and I need to know more about the syndicates, specifically, the Red Dragon. About during the time the Immortals war ended with Ozorne's defeat, we found Varik Rathor, the head of the Red Dragon, on the battlefield. He was suspected of giving Ozorne supplies and his own men. He was taken into custody by the Lord Provost and sentenced to imprisonment.
However, he escaped about three years later, with the aid of the Red Dragon. I've wondered where he would flee to, but the Yamani or Copper Isles was the best place. We've scored both areas and come up with nothing. So it could only be decided that he was in hiding and possibly planning retribution. We've word now that he's sent us an assassin, though we're not absolutely sure. Word has it that he's trained this one personally, which throws off the pattern we have on him. He's known for having many assassins in his employment, as well as training a few himself, but he usually has one of his men take on that task. He's never trained an assassin personally. This one is rumored to be the best, so we can only assume."
Spheal's mouth was gaping in shock or surprise, probably both. "Well," was Spheal's response to the large flow of information. Despite himself, Joren smiled. "Are you aware of any leader controlling Red Dragon? If there is one, it could be Rathor's puppet. However, if it is Rathor himself…" Joren glanced meaningfully at Spheal. "We'll have him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel trained her eyes on the target, despite the darkness, she knew her aim was right. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like a snake before striking. Her fingers tightened its grip on the tip of the blade. And the question on her mind rang out.
Am I doing the right thing? Of course she was. She was eliminating the man who killed one of her own, a man that was twisted enough to send an innocent child to her death.
Am I doing the right thing? This time, her stance faltered. With a growl of rage, she sent the dagger flying and didn't bother to look if she hit. She knew that she did.
Am I doing the right thing?
A/N: So how'd ya like it? Good, bad? I'd like constructive criticism, its gratefully appreciated. Oh, and sorry about the delay, Writer's block constantly plagues me. So the little ending was a bit of a psychological thriller. Who would have thought that Kel has a mental problem?