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THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN

By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta

Chapter 2

Sir Feral and his company of elite knights and hunters emerged from lush southern forest of Prontera only to be greeted by the acrid scent of desert air. Feral wriggled his nose as the hot breeze wafted past him. It never ceased to amaze him how drastically the terrain can change as one traveled through the land of Rune-Midgard. They had now entered the realm of Morroc.

Morroc, although still within the rule of King Erondral, was the haven for thieves and assassins. Their caste, as it were, was even based in the central city of this region. It was the most lawless of lands. Everyone accompanying him was aware of this and each became more alert, scanning their area of responsibility more diligently lest they fall into an ambush.

The First Knight of Prontera alighted from the back of his peco peco. The peco peco was a large flightless bird with orange plumage and a large yellow beak. It was one of the very few beasts that could be domesticated. Feral suspected that there were others too that could be tamed but it would entail great risk. His "nearly" domesticated gryphon was living proof that.

It was for this gryphon that he now searched the horizon. He allowed his master tracker, a huntress by the name of Madison, to ride it--something he very rarely allowed--in order to track down more quickly this abductor. Feral's eyes narrowed in barely controlled anger. If this assassin hurt a single beautiful hair on his beloved Cerridwen, so help him, Rune-Midgard would not be big enough for him to hide in. That lowlife was going to rue the day he was born!

---

There were no less than seven desert wolves before him, all snarling and drooling. Obviously hungry. It was odd. The wolves weren't supposed to be here. They usually roamed and hunted in the southern part of Morroc desert. And they usually didn't band together in large numbers such as these. What the hell are they doing this far north?

He didn't have the energy for this. He had been running nonstop for more than a day, going in zigzags and circles deliberately in order to mislead the army that was sure to hunt him down. All this while bearing the uncooperative princess on his shoulder. He didn't think he had any strength left to face ferocious creatures that weren't supposed to be here. It wasn't in the plan.

There was no one to help him either. He wasn't scheduled to meet up with his party of assassins until after another day's travel. It was just him and the princess. This isn't good.

Princess Cerridwen was already squirming in fear on his shoulder, obviously aware that they were in danger. Her hands and legs were tied and her mouth gagged in a thick cloth but it didn't stop her from thrashing about. These sudden movements made the wolves snarl some more, lowering their bellies to the ground as they crept closer to them. They were preparing to attack.

"Princess! Stop that!" the Assassin ordered. "You are going to bring the wolves upon us before I am ready to face them!" The Assassin slapped the girl's thigh sharply with his left hand. Big mistake. It only aggravated her even more, causing her to make louder muffled noises through her gag and thrash about more vigorously.

The wolves attacked as one. The Assassin leaped back just in time, landing several feet away. The beasts, surprised to find nothing where once there were two humans, became even angrier as they pounced after their quarry. They all stopped a few feet away again as they collectively evaluated their prey, moving to surround him to ensure that he wouldn't escape again.

This time the Assassin knew that the wolves would not be so easily dodged. He very slowly set the thrashing teenager down on the ground and removed her gag.

The princess' green eyes were sending off sparks of anger and indignation as they narrowed and glared at him. "You will pay dearly for thi-" The Assassin cupped her mouth.

"Listen to me, Princess," he said firmly, "I'm letting you go."

---

Cerridwen struggled some more and then abruptly stopped. Did he just say that he was letting her go?

She felt his hand move from her mouth. She glanced up and had her very first look at her captor. His face was mostly concealed save for his eyes. This she focused on. They were almost like the color of...the sands of the desert, very light brown. There was a hint of sadness there, of finality, even regret. But no trace of wickedness or evil. It surprised her deeply.

"There is no reason for both of us to die," he continued.

She felt his hands go over her side to loosen her bonds. Die? It was only then the snarling sounds of the wolves intruded in her consciousness. Her eyes widened as she turned to look and saw the wolves surrounding them, their bloodshot eyes watching them with raw hunger. They were, each one of them, huge with razor-sharp teeth! She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and averted her eyes, turning them to those in front of her.

"Don't worry. I'll handle them," the Assassin said, rising and taking her hand in his as he assisted her up. His eyes never left hers and they seemed to be smiling.

As soon as she was able to stand on her wobbly legs he immediately maneuvered her behind him so she was shielded from the wolves that would attack any second now. His hand remained holding hers. Although gloved, it was the kind that left his fingers exposed. The touch of his rough skin on her soft and delicate fingers was sending strange tingles down her spine.

"Just head north. I'm sure you'll encounter your people soon." He said without glancing at her, preferring instead to carefully watch the movements of the vicious beasts. He finally released her hand. "Now, run!" This he said firmly.

His command galvanized her into action. Her mind protested. But what's going to happen to you? Her body had other ideas as she turned and started running after only a moment's hesitation.

As if on cue, she heard the wolves attack and the resounding battlecry of the Assassin as he met them head on! Don't look back. She felt tears on her eyes. Don't look back. Just keep running...

---

The Dark Lord was an imposing being. He was extremely tall, measuring more than seven feet. His head was that of a skull and he had skull-like ornaments on his shoulders. Two snakes dangled from his large neck at all times. He was the embodiment of evil and he ruled the underworld that was Glast Heim.

Glast Heim was once a grand and beautiful monastery, renowned for its wonderfully manicured gardens, magnificent and rare artifacts and its voluminous collection of knowledge that covered the trivial to the profound. The Glast Heim of today was a desolate place. Where once learned men and women of the cloth roamed around the halls and grounds only unholy creatures abound.

The Dark Lord sat on his throne located at the deepest bowels of the monastery. His gaze was unseeing, fixed on a spot in space. This was how the Sorceress Tatiana found him.

"You summoned me, Dark Lord?" she asked, lowering her eyes and going down on one well-shaped knee, paying the requisite obeisance to the evil presence before her.

"I am concerned about that assassin we sent to capture Erondral's daughter," the Dark Lord said, his voice like rumbling lava pouring out of a fissure.

"Branagan?" the Sorceress slowly lifted her eyes towards him. "He is the best, my Lord."

"Yet he isn't completely on our side."

"He will do my bidding, my Lord."

"Does he even care about his sister?"

"My Lord, he would die for his sister," Tatiana injected as much confidence in her reply as she could muster.

"I wish to meet her."

"As you wish, my Lord," she lowered her head once more and then gracefully rose, brushing back her long black cape aside. She took one brief glance at the Dark Lord and then turned, pivoting on one foot, and briskly walked out the door to fetch the girl.

The Dark Lord's head moved ever so slightly to gaze at the retreating figure. It was all about power. He had it but wanted more, hence the abduction of his enemy's daughter. But Tatiana, she didn't have the power and she wanted it too. How would she go about taking it?

The Dark Lord was a patient being. True intentions would unravel soon enough. But first, he needed to create another plan. His original scheme may not work after all. He wasn't convinced that the assassin Branagan would be able to deliver the girl. He needed to prepare.

---

Cerridwen knelt beside him and gazed into his sleeping, unmasked, face. It was amazing what he did. He willingly sacrificed himself for her. It greatly confused her. Why would he go through great lengths to kidnap her and then allow himself to be mortally injured for her sake? It didn't seem like normal behavior. To try and piece the mystery that was her captor, she had carefully examined his garments and weapons she took from him. None of the artifacts gave her any clue that would give her an idea as to his intentions. She did, however, discover the man's name. Branagan, engraved, as it was, on both his katars. She decided it was a nice, strong name.

She placed a cool hand on his forehead. Although she had fully healed his wounds, he was still feverish. She allowed her hand to slide down his face so her fingers were carressing his cheek. He was rather handsome in an rouguish sort of way.

She quickly withdrew her hand when the man groaned. "Eranelle," it was a pained whisper. Cerridwen's eyes flashed angrily as her heart constricted. She blinked her eyes in irritation. She realized that she had felt the pang of jealousy. Stupid girl. Of course he would have a girl of his own. She frowned at Branagan. But she shook her head after a moment.

"Thank you, Branagan," she said softly. "There seems to be more to you than meets the eye."

---

Feral watched closely as his master tracker, the Huntress Madison, struggled to land the gryphon a few feet away. The large bird was getting restless. It was getting harder to control as each day passed.

Two squires quickly rushed forward and threw looped coils around its neck, one on each side. They then tied the other end of the rope to nearby trees. They had to use all their strength for the bird was shrieking loudly and stubbornly refusing to be restrained. The Huntress Madison had to hold on tightly to keep from being thrown off and be trampled on or worse land near the gryphon's razor sharp beak and be eaten alive!

When she was sure that the bird was effectively restrained, she hopped down. Feral watched her as she approached, noting with amusement the scowl on her sun-soaked pretty face.

"With all due respect, Feral," Madison began as soon as she came within hearing distance, "if I knew how much trouble I'd be in riding that banged up bird of yours I wouldn't have agreed to taking it in the first place!" She was shaking her head in disdain.

"So, have you found them this time?" Feral asked firmly ignoring the other's comments.

The huntress slightly cocked her head and raised an eyebrow briefly. It was her way of letting him know that she didn't appreciate the manner with which she was being put in her place.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "The Assassin is a tricky bastard. He did give me the slip once--"

"Twice."

"Okay, twice but I got him this time."

"Are you certain?"

"Well, you know what? I'd be more certain if I was able to actually get down on the ground and examine the tracks. As it was--"

"So you didn't go down and examine the tracks yourself?" asked Feral, incredulously.

"How could I with that damned bird of yours!" Madison cried indignantly, while jerking a thumb behind her indicating the gryphon, which was still wildly shrieking and struggling against its bonds. "But don't worry," she said quickly cutting off whatever scathing reply she would have gotten from the First Knight, "Gunther was able to convince me that the tracks he saw were the real thing. Speaking of which, where is that old rascal?" She raised her eyes to the sky and as if on cue, she spotted her falcon making a dive towards her. "Ah! There he is!"

Feral's eyes narrowed in consternation. There was no way he could trust information coming from a non-sentient creature. He could never understand how Madison was able to communicate so effectively with her falcon. All the hunters he had in his company also had the same ability. "You know, maybe I should start asking Gunther questions from now on," he said, icily, walking past his master tracker who already had the falcon perched on her right arm.

"I'd sure like to see you try," she grumbled under her breath.

Feral heard the insolent retort but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on his own winged creature. He took a deep, cleansing breath. "So, where are they?"

"More than a hundred miles south of here. They've got more than a day's travel headstart."

Feral nodded mutely. So, they're heading deep into Morroc desert. The First Knight abruptly turned around. "We're moving out!" he commanded loudly causing the rest of the company of knights and hunters to rise, brushing their armor of sand and dust and heading for their mounts. "Prepare the gryphon. I'm gonna ride it, this time." He smirked at Madison as he said this.

"Good luck," she grumbled again.

---

Branagan opened his eyes and saw the naked night sky above him. Without any lights from the city, the stars were brighter and--

He suddenly sat upright and immediately noted several things: he was no longer wearing his mask, his katars were gone from his arms and his upper body armor was stripped as well. He was bare-chested! He clenched his fists and swept the immediate vicinity with his eyes, looking for the bandit who-

Wait a minute! The last thing he remembered was that he was fighting the wolves and he managed to kill all of them but not before they…killed him? He had sustained mortal wounds…wounds from which he would never have survived. Of that he was certain.

"Oh, you're awake."

The Assassin jolted and on reflex rolled away from the source of the sound, deftly landing on his feet and facing his opponent, ready in combat position.

"Hey, it's just me."

Branagan's eyes widened in surprise. "You! I-I mean, well, you!"

The princess laughed. He stood there mesmerized by her mirth and the sound of her happy voice. Her laughter was like the peals of tiny bells and her green eyes sparkled. After a moment's reflection, he dropped his fists, indignant at having been caught in an embarrassing situation. What was he thinking anyway?

He crossed his arms in front of him, feeling a bit awkward that he was half-naked. "So, uhm, I thought I told you to run?"

"Oh, I did," she replied, her smile disappearing as she bent to place more wood into the small bonfire that separated them. He failed to notice both details earlier and he felt foolish. As an assassin he was supposed to be trained in noticing little things such as a woman carrying firewood and a fire burning right in front of him.

The princess continued to drop wood into the fire, stoking them as she did, for the time being ignoring his presence. He cleared his throat. "So, you ran."

"Yes, I did," she answered, glancing up at him very briefly before focusing back on her task. He couldn't help but notice that the thin silk robe she was wearing was not doing a very good job at concealing her womanly charms. He could see one shapely thigh exposed through of the slit in her garment as she knelt by the fire she was tending. It was distracting him.

"So, you ran and now you're here and…well, what happened?"

For several moments, she ignored him, pretending to be preoccupied by her task. After a while, she stood up and looked him squarely in the eye.

"You were dying. The wolves were cutting you up very badly," she said, shrugging. "I couldn't just pretend I didn't see it. I had to do something. So I healed you."

"You healed me."

"Yes, okay? That's my secret. I'm a priestess. Okay?" She turned around, facing away from him, crossing her arms in front of her. "My father isn't going to be very pleased with me."

"Well, Princess, I already figured out on my own that you were a priestess. I'm not dumb, you know."

She glanced back at him, raising a well-sculpted eyebrow. "So, if you knew that, why are you so surprised that I healed you?"

"Well, because. You healed me. Me, the guy who kidnapped you. The guy who brought you to this desolate place!"

"Well, you know what?" she asked, whirling around and stomping towards him. The Princess poked him on the shoulder when she was within distance. "Why did you do it?" Where once her eyes were sparkling with delight, now they were sparking with righteous anger. Branagan found himself as mesmerized as before.

"Do what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Kidnap me!"

The assassin stared at her and then looked away. He suddenly remembered the gravity of the situation. For him and her. It was also a dilemma. Would he continue and carry out his mission? Or should he let her go? If he let her go, what would happen to his sister? If he continued his mission, what would happen to her? All of sudden he cared about her welfare. But why? Well, for one thing, she saved your miserable, worthless life, a voice inside him said.

"You should have just run away," he said resignedly, raising his head and closing his eyes.

"I could still run away, you know," the Princess said, once again crossing her arms in front of her. Defiant.

"Sure you can," he said skeptically.

"I can Teleport!"

"And you'll still end up somewhere in the desert." He raised his index finger. "First, I'd still be able to track you down," he raised his thumb, "and second, if it's not me who gets you, it'll be the wolves!"

"I'll take my chances with the wolves!"

"You wouldn't survive one-"

"Well, well, well," an amused disembodied voice said.

Both Branagan and the princess whirled to see who it was. Branagan's eyes narrowed at the sight. It was Arnak, the leader of a rival assassin guild. He was a powerful fighter, stocky and not so tall. He was extremely fast and agile despite appearances. His head was devoid of hair but his face was more than half covered with a beard that hadn't seen a bath in months. The other half of his face was covered with hideous scars.

"What have we here?" Arnak asked, his voice dripping with contempt. At first it was only him that was visible but as he neared the light of the fire, the other members of the guild appeared as well. By Branagan's count, they numbered twelve.

The Princess backed away in terror, hugging herself tightly, obviously feeling the hungry looks of the filthy new arrivals that were no different, if not worse than that of the wolves.

"What are you doing here, Arnak," Branagan demanded, keeping his legs apart, his hands ready at his side.

Arnak eyed him, noting the change in his stance. Branagan was aware that the other knew that he would be ready if it came down to a fight.

"Oh, we were just hunting, you know," the rival assassin said, gesturing lazily. "Me and the boys, we were just hungry for some fresh meat." His croaking laughter was soon joined by guffaws of his companions.

He swept his eyes across the other assassins. They were nomads. Outcasts. They believed in nothing and trusted in no one. It was clear from the way they ogled the princess that their hunt was over.

In Branagan's mind, he defended the princess against the wolves. He would do no less now. Let's see…twelve against him…and a priestess. Not bad. He also had the element of surprise. He'd bet his katars, they saw the princess as just one hapless little girl. He felt his mouth curve slightly upwards in a small smile.

He looked sideways at the Princess who was also staring at him, noting his smile with horrified eyes that seemed to ask, what the hell are you smiling about?

You'll know soon enough, Princess, he said to himself. He gritted his teeth and launched himself at Arnak.