CONTENT REVISED 13/11/05

Garren's POV:

I don't like riding horses.

Yes, I'm aware that after fifty years or so of traveling back and forth across Endiness I should be more than used to it, but I've never quite caught on to the trick of sitting on a beast and directing it with my hands and legs. My coordination never really developed properly in that area. So you can imagine my reaction when Ragnarok told me to buy some horses so that we might get out of Lohan without attracting too much suspicion. I can't fault his reasoning, but I can't help to think that it would have been a hell of a lot easier simply to teleport or fly out of there. Mind you, I wasn't about to tell him that. He was actually in a good mood when he met me at the city gates- but when the fact that he was in such good humor stemmed mostly from the fact that he had been practically handed a half dozen knights on a silver platter… well, you get the idea.

So it was that dawn found us pounding north through the narrow, rocky passes that led through the mountains of southern Serdio toward the Tiberoian boarder some distance to the north. Guiding my mount across the treacherous ground as best as I could, I hazarded a glance back at Ragnarok who was trailing along about twenty feet behind me. My stoic companion hardly moved in the saddle as his mount galloped, more out of fear of the rider, I guessed, than out of any actual obedience. His eyes still retained the flat, dangerous appearance that told me that Dart was not yet back in control.

Frowning, I turned my attention back to the trail. That was strange. Dart couldn't still be out from that blow to the head; I'd seen him recover faster from worse injuries than that. He must have been talking with the dragon, I surmised finally. That settled, I let my mind wander onto other matters.

It had been fifty years since I had left Ulara. I was well over four hundred, but fifty years is a long time for anyone to be away from home. The time I'd spent wandering across Endiness had been had been a blast, to be sure, but lately I'd found myself thinking more and more about my hometown. I'd been surprised to find that I actually missed the place; the people, the waterfalls, even the damn, monotonous weather system. Well, maybe not that. But after spending a few winters in Mille Seseau, I'd decided that we could definitely use some snow. For some reason, I'd developed some deep inner need to catch my friend Nova unaware with a couple rounds of snowballs. Of course, she'd probably light my hair on fire if I ever tried it, but still.

"Look out!" Ragnarok yelled sharply from behind me.

"Huh?" I snapped out of my reverie and looked back at him. "What?"

WHAM.

So much for that warning. Not watching where I was going, I rode straight into a low branch that hung suspended across the rocky trail at about chest height. It swept me backwards over the tail of my mount, and I landed with a thud in the cloud of dust covering the trail. I lay there on my back for a moment, staring up at the grayish dawn sky and trying to find my wind while Ragnarok reined in his terrified horse next to me.

"Couldn't you save the acrobatics until we get back to Ulara?" He asked, jerking on the reins as he tried to still his prancing mount.

I grumbled a reply, then sat up. Far off down the trail could be seen my horse, pounding along over the dusty trail. Pleadingly, I looked up at Ragnarok.

"Catch it." He said flatly. "We still have a long ways to go."

Gingerly, I got to my feet and started to pull in my energy. Why did I bother looking for pity from that dragon anyway?

The horse seemed surprised when I appeared out of thin air to land on its back. Well, I guess 'surprised' would be an understatement. 'Shell- shocked' would probably be a more accurate term. At any rate, the moment he felt my weight upon his back, he started to buck; great vaulting leaps that took me from saddle to air and back again within the space of two heartbeats. I guess he had been anticipating some sort of freedom when he started running because he seemed determined to get me back onto the ground again. He probably would have managed it too, had not Ragnarok trotted up, wearing an expression that could have turned rocks to dust. He glared at my carousing mount. "What do you think you're doing?" he barked, more to my horse, I guessed, than to me.

My horse halted in mid-buck, coming back to earth with a jolt that clicked my teeth together audibly as we landed. Rubbing my jaw, I glared accusingly at Ragnarok, who sat unperturbed on his shaking, exhausted horse. "Couldn't have given me any warning now, could have you?"

"You wouldn't have heard me." He watched as I disentangled myself from the reins and slipped my feet back into the stirrups. "Let's hurry up. If memory serves, there's a small village farther to the north of here." Without another word, he nudged his wearied mount back into a jolting trot and brushed past me, continuing along the trail.

My horse twisted his head around to look questioningly back at me. Nudging him with my heels, I stuck out my tongue at him. "You deserved it."

Ragnarok's POV:

We reached the aforementioned village a short time after sunrise. It wasn't much, even by village standards. It consisted mostly of a small cluster of dusty huts all huddled around the south shore of a small lake that's still surface reflected back the burning sun like a polished glass mirror. Even though it was early, shimmering heat waves had already begun to rise off of the baking rocks lining the roadside. Although we were still quite a ways a way from official Tiberoian territory, it seemed that the barren countryside around here shared similar weather characteristics with its neighbor. The sun had hardly risen, and already the day was showing every promise of becoming something akin to a low burning oven. Oh, the joys of inconsistent summer weather.

(We need to rest) Dart informed me quietly. (You've been pushing my body pretty hard all night, and sooner or later it's going to start to shut down. And Garren isn't holding up much better) Dart hadn't said very much since he had come around, but he had made no effort to wrest control of his body back from me. Of that much, I was glad. This is not to say that I had forgiven him; on the contrary, I still refused to respond to his thoughts.

Glancing back at Garren, however, I had to concede that he had a point. The wingly, although he seemed alert, swayed dangerously in the saddle as he rode. The twenty-four hours without sleep, coupled with his normal resting patterns, were taking their toll. Galloping into that branch earlier that morning probably hadn't helped him any either.

I slowed my mount to a walk as we turned down the single street that wound between the houses. The village was quiet; for the most part its residents were probably still asleep. Only the women were out and about; they carried sloshing buckets of well water back to their homes, or could be seen crouched next to the shore of the lake, doing laundry. Plodding through the sleepy settlement we halted in front of a low, whitewashed building with a cracked sign with faded lettering identifying it as the inn. Handing our mounts over to the mousy looking stable boy that jogged out to meet us, I climbed the stairs and ducked through the half door, Garren stumbling along behind me.

The innkeeper was a tightlipped man of middle years with stern eyes and a decided limp in his left leg. He showed us wordlessly to our rooms, then demanded a price that made even me wince. After our stay in Lohan our funds were low, and the cost for the less than adequate lodgings cut quite deeply into the little gold that was left to us. After the innkeeper left, Garren and I parted to our respective rooms, each of us making a beeline for the lumpy beds. Kicking my gear into a corner, I pulled off my grime-covered boots and jacket and tossed them onto a spindly looking chair. Then I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. No sooner than I had done this I felt myself once again being pushed off to one side as Dart, immediately seizing the opportunity, went to sleep.

Dart slept through the better part of the day, if it could be called that. I couldn't actually feel it, but I could sense the oppressive heat pressing in on the whitewashed building on all sides, slowly heating the stones as though to turn the whole building into an oven. However the room in which we stayed remained surprisingly cool throughout the day, even if the lack of air circulation caused by the closed door left the air feeling dry and stale. The heat had just begun to recede with the lowering sun when Dart finally woke up, slightly disoriented by the near darkness of the room.

(What time is it?) He asked, somewhat groggily.

I decided that he'd suffered enough. ((Some time before sunset. Time to get moving)) I told him shortly. ((We've wasted enough time here already))

It took some time to wake Garren up. Under normal circumstances that wingly isn't too heavy a sleeper, but it seemed that he was even more worn out than I had previously thought. He seemed rather relieved when he awoke to find Dart in control, though. Just a suspicion, but I think that I make him nervous at times.

We grabbed a quick meal downstairs in the tavern portion of the inn before sending for our mounts and starting out again. Over the years I've noticed that particularity in human inns: no matter where in Endiness they were to be found, there was almost always a tavern either downstairs or next door. The two establishments, rather than competing in the customary fashion of businesses world over, seemed to thrive off of one another.

The sun was hardly more than a bright smear of orange-red on the horizon as Dart and Garren urged their horses into a canter on the stony road that meandered along the edge of the lake. The beasts, although still not completely recuperated from last night's race from Lohan, nonetheless seemed much the better for their day-long rest and moved with an energy that they had lacked that morning. That wouldn't last for long. They would only be able to cover half the distance we had the night before, and that was without pushing them too hard. As the evening sky slowly faded into night the Moon's glow steadily grew brighter, lighting up the road and the jagged landscape surrounding it. I don't like that eyesore hanging in the sky the way it does, but I will admit that it does make a very good lantern.

It took us four more days to reach Fletz. Coated in travel dust, Dart and Garren rode their plodding mounts through the city gates with hardly a glance from the towering, dark-skinned men whom traditionally guarded the palace and city. It was still early morning and the town was just waking up; here and there could be seen the shopkeepers throwing open their shutters and unlocking the doors to their shops. A young acolyte stood sweeping on the steps of the Star Temple, singing quietly to herself and waving to the odd townsmen as they walked by.

Dismounting and handing his reins over to Garren, Dart gave his horse a pat on the neck. "Go see if you can't sell these poor guys. We're not going to get anymore out of them, and we don't really have the money to stable ourselves, much less them."

"Fine by me. Where are you going?"

Dart pulled off his grimy bandana and wiped his forehead. "I'm going to see if I can't sell some of our accessories. We have too much to carry around conveniently anyhow." He shoved his bandana into his pocket and started off down the street.

((We need to pick up a few more potions)) I told him as he ducked into the shop. ((I used up the last of them in Lohan))

(What did you need them for?)

((Nothing really. Some of those idiots from the knighthood mistook me for a thief while I was busy retrieving the spirits. One of them managed to nick me fairly good in the side, so I needed to patch myself up))

(That explains the mark) Dart murmured. (I'd wondered about that. What did you do with them?) he asked while he rifled through his pockets, looking for something that might possibly interest the beady-eyed shopkeeper.

((What do you think? One or two of them might have been able to stand when I left, but I wasn't too worried about them trying to follow. You might want to avoid Lohan for the next couple of years though, just in case))

Dart groaned, and placed an item rather carelessly on the counter. It was a slightly rumpled silk scarf, fringed with woven gold. It wasn't much to look at, but humans are suspicious, and set quite a bit of store by carrying talismans into battle. Judging from the expression on the shopkeeper's face as he carefully lifted it up, this one had some importance. I guess that the trade in rare items must have been a little dry at the time. Wordlessly, he paid the price Dart offered it to him at, not even bothering to barter. Dart quickly counted out the gold, then slipped the bag into his pocket and then began negotiating with the shopkeeper about the price of his potions.

When Dart had finished his business in the shops, he wandered down towards the waterfront at my direction. (So what was it you wanted to see?)

((That)) I said grimly as he rounded a corner. It looked as though the cult chapter in Bale was not the only one that had decided that the God of Destruction deserved a temple. A large stone shrine, built from the customary snowy white stone, dominated the end of the avenue. As we drew closer, I could see a steady stream of people entering and leaving the shrine, gathering to talk in little clusters near the doorstep. ((They've expanded))

(So it would seem) Dart stepped back to the side of the narrow street, letting the flow of traffic pass by. (Do you want to take a look around? But don't do anything. Most of those people look like they're housewives. They're probably just here to socialize)

((Spoilsport)) I grumbled. ((Fine. I won't touch anything))

(Swear?)

((Promise. Honestly, when did you decide to become so childish about all of this?))

(Just let it lie, Ark)

Dart's POV:

The shrine was packed end to end with people. This wasn't saying much, mind you, because this particular room in the shrine wasn't very large to begin with. Weaving my way through the crowd, I slowly made my way to the front of the room.

A familiar face stood at the pulpit. Dressed once again in his green robes, the eloquent man from Lohan was delivering yet another of his sermons. Slipping into a niche in the wall, I wondered vaguely how he'd managed to beat us to Fletz.

((He must have come by ship)) said Ark. ((It's only a few days to Doneau by water, and if he had a fast boat, he could have been here for a day or two now)) He paused for a moment to listen to the fanatic's speech, then glanced around the crowded room. ((He doesn't seem to be having the same effect on the crowd here, do you notice?)) He commented.

I frowned and looked around closely at the people closest to me. Ark was right. Here and there could see a faint glimmer of something that might have approached interest in the odd person's eyes, but for the most part his audience seemed only to be listening out of politeness. (Probably because they're sober. It must be more difficult for them to gain followers without a Moon Child. He's a good speaker, but I think he's having some trouble giving weight to his words)

((Hmm)) Ark listened for a few more moments. (( He is good, though. Leave him here long enough, and he might actually achieve something. We should probably do something about him))

(No killing) I stated firmly.

((Why would I do that?)) Ark sounded a bit petulant, then suddenly brightened up. ((This man is obviously very important to the cult right now, wouldn't you agree? It'd be a shame to off someone as talented as he is))

I blinked, confused by his sudden change of tone, then narrowed my eyes suspiciously. (What are you thinking, Ark? First you want to kill him, and now you'd rather just let him walk free? What are you up to?))

((Nothing homicidal, I assure you)) He actually seemed ready to laugh now. ((I think you'll rather like this one, Dart. Now hush. The good man is obviously putting a lot of effort into his speech. The very least we can do is pay attention))

Baffled, I stood quietly through the rest of the sermon while my Ragnarok listened quite happily to the voice of the energetic young man. His amusement seemed to grow with every word; by the time the speech was finished, I was amazed that he wasn't laughing out loud. Not knowing what else to do, I waited to see what he would do, curiosity overpowering my caution at his delight. The speech presently came to an end, and as one, the crowd began to filter back out through the large double doors into the open plaza. At Ark's direction, however, I stayed put. It wasn't until the monk headed towards the small door at the back of the shrine that he brushed me to one side and took control, tailing the man quietly into the next room.

It wasn't a very large room; it was more of a storage place than anything else, though what for I couldn't imagine. At present, the young man seemed to be using it as his quarters. A small heap of blankets had been pushed back into the corner, and a bowl of wash water sat on a rickety chair beside it. The cultist knelt before it, sloshing the water over his face and neck. Giving speeches, it seemed, was a tiring business. He glanced back over his shoulder as Ark entered, water dripping from his hair onto the neck of his robe.

"Hello? May I help you?" He asked politely. He sat back on his heels, shaking the wet from his hands.

"I think so," Ark said. "In fact, I'm almost positive you can." Surreptitiously, he reached back and nudged the door a bit farther closed with his heel. "Are you on good terms with the other preists in the city?"

The cultists' chest swelled importantly. "Not just this city, friend. I am personally-"

"Excellent," Ark breathed, not bothering to let him finish. "And they rely on you?"

The man must have caught the look in his eyes, because he hesitated. "Sir?"

Ark smiled amiably at him. I could almost see the thoughts clicking through the young man's head, as he slowly began to question the situation. (Not too bright, his he?) I commented, still wondering what Ark planned on doing next. Ark could see into my thoughts, but I couldn't see into his. In a way it was a good thing, but I couldn't help but feel at the same time that it was horribly unfair.

((Like a burned out candle)) Ark replied happily. ((Makes damn good speeches, though))

The young man seemed to realize he was in trouble now. In a rush he got to his feet, knocking the washbowl from the chair as he did so. The basin cracked as it hit the floor, and water splashed over the tiles.

"Look," he said urgently, "one word, and I can have all the guards in the shrine in here in an instant."

((And that would be what, two?)) Ark spread his hands wide, affecting an innocent look. He almost might have pulled it off too, were it not for the laughter in his eyes. "Now what possible need could we have for that? We're all brought together in the name of the Moon Child, isn't that what you said in your speech?"

"My speech?" The man looked a bit confused. Ark took a small step toward him, but he didn't appear to notice.

"Yup. Your speech." He nodded, that worrying smile never leaving his face. Then without changing expression he lunged forward, seizing the man's head in both hands. ((Dart! Relax your mind! Now!))

Without thinking, I obeyed. There was a slight tingle as Ark drew his power through me, then nothing. Between his hands, the cultist stopped struggling. As Ark carefully let go he slumped to his knees, his eyes unfocused and his mouth slack. Crouching next to him, Ark peeled back one eyelid professionally, nodding with satisfaction at whatever it was he apparently saw. ((Good enough. We can leave him here, I think. Someone I'll find him sooner or later, but it won't do much good))

(That sounds a bit ominous, Ark)

((Does it really?))

(Yes, it does. What did you do to him? He looks like you just hit him upside the head with a plank)

((Hardly)) He snorted. ((You said no violence, right? There you go. No violence))

(What did you do?)

((I just stunned him, Dart. It's nothing serious. I doubt it even hurt him. He'll be up and about again in a few minutes, don't worry)) He got to his feet again, grinning.

(Maybe I should rephrase that. What else did you do to him?)

((Nothing all that much. Tell me, have you ever heard of amnesia?))

It took a few moments for the implications of what he'd said to sink in. When I realized what he'd just done, I began to laugh uncontrollably. (You're horrible, you know that?)

((I know)) Ark said smugly, returning to the main room of the shrine and exiting the building. ((Just imagine the reaction of the high priest when he realizes that he doesn't have anyone to convert the masses for him anymore? And the best part is, they'll probably spend the rest of their lives trying to make him remember why he was converting people))

(Is amnesia curable?)

((Not in this particular case, no)) Ark smiled broadly as I took over once more and headed back towards the center of town. ((I'm going to have to remember this. The notion of driving the cultists to distraction with something like this is almost as much fun as killing them))

It was about ten thirty or so when I found my way back to the stables. Garren was seated on a couple of hay bales outside next to the watering trough. I couldn't help but notice that he was still holding the horses. He had removed their saddles and bridles and was now letting them feed on some of the hay he'd thrown down for them.

"You didn't sell them yet?" I asked once I was within earshot.

Garren made a face. "No. The stable manager said that he couldn't afford to buy them, and that he doesn't have the room to board them. He did say that he knew someone who might want to buy them off us though. He told me to wait here."

"Good enough." I pulled off my jacket and leaned against the wall behind me, enjoying the feel of the cool stone against my back. "I managed to sell something earlier, so we're not broke any more."

"Neh." Garren closed his eyes and let his head tilt forward onto his chest. A few minutes later he was snoring peacefully.

It was another fifteen minutes or so before the prospective buyer came around. He was a short man of about fifty or so with a rapidly receding hairline dressed in a light tunic and breeches that came down just past the knees. In one hand he held a thick, leather bound book. Coming over, he peered good-naturedly at my sleeping friend and myself. "Excuse me, but are you the gentlemen Mr. Knut told me had some horses that they were willing to sell?"

"Probably, if Mr. Knut is the guy who runs the stable around here." I glanced at the horses. "They've been ridden pretty hard-"

((Hey, don't blame me))

"- but they're still sound."

"That doesn't matter." The man sighed in relief. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find someone who could sell me a horse." He extended his hand. "My name's Orion."

"Vin." I shook his hand. "The sleeping one's Garren. So, why do you need the horses so badly?"

"I'm supposed to be catching a boat in a day or two to Mille Seseau." Orion smiled ruefully. "It would only take a few days to walk to Doneau, but I lost time finding someone to bind this properly." He glanced down at the book he held in his hand. "I've spent the last several years of my life compiling this, and I'd throw a fit if it ended up in the collection of some backcountry lord."

"You're planning to take it to Deningrad? May I see?" Taking the proffered book, I glanced at the title. "You wrote about the Dragoons?"

"And whatever else is associated with them." Orion laughed. "I have a minor obsession with certain events of the past, you see."

I flipped through the pages of the book with unfeigned interest. It was well written with great attention to detail. I stopped when I came to the page with my name written across the top and briefly scanned through the information. I noted with some satisfaction that it said little about my life after the Cygnet War.

"Tricky matter, that one," Orion said, noting the page on which I had stopped. "His life is well documented up to a point, and then all records just stop. At least with the other dragoons their deaths are chronicled, but Dart Feld-" he shook his head. "It's like he just vanished. I looked for years, but I never could find what happened to him."

"You did a good job," I commented, returning the book. "That's probably the best one I've seen yet, including those in the library in Deningrad."

"You think so?" Orion beamed. "Glad to hear it. I've put a lot of work into this." Getting to his feet, he reached for his purse. "So how much will it be for the two of them?"

"What? Oh, right. Say four hundred? Thanks." Taking the money, I untied the reins from the hitching post and held them while the old man mounted. "Have a good trip."

"Same to you and your friend," Orion replied, turning his mount towards the gate and nudging the horse into a grudging trot.

Sitting down again, I watched him disappear through the city gates. Even after he left, I continued to stare off into the distance.

"He just vanishes, huh?" I repeated quietly, watching the heat waves rising off of the rocks outside the gate.

"Whaa?" Garren yawned and sat up. "D'you say something?"

"Never mind. It's nothing."

Slowly working my way through the revisions, in no particular order.