IMPORTANT! A word of warning: FF.net hates my com at the moment. For some reason, it refuses to let me put in the double slashes around Ark's thoughts and double stars around actions. Also, near the end of the chapter there is a break from Zion's POV into something completely different. That bit is no longer in POV, and is dealing with something cmpletely different.

Sorry about all of this, I'm trying to fix it.

Sors: Don't worry, it's coming. I don't know when, exactly, but it's coming. -.- you people rush me! lol

Brutal: Reviews? It's nice to know how people think the chapters are turning out. Saves me the grief of worrying.

Magical Mage: Got me there. There is a reason for Solana's rank and it was mentioned in passing in the last chapter, but I'm not sure that anyone picked up on it. I dunno. Maybe the Jade Dragoon just likes people who can boss people around.

SilverWing: I don't think I'll be making Dart actually become a physical monster, though I really, really liked the particular concept for the monster that you suggested. This is because in truth the 'Black Monster' is really just a name people gave to Rose because they didn't know any better. Really there's no particular change involved, no special powers, so I think that I'll just leave it at that. Easier for me, if nothing else. Though if you don't mind, I might use the concept of the lycan/balroc/draconic thingy later on. T'would make for much fun. O.O Insert maniacal laughter here, since Shade is too lazy to do it herself

Oh! Random announcement: I have a Deviantart account, and since I'm too lazy to create a website for myself, I've been posting art on there. Namely random Naruto fanart, but I am setting aside time to draw some proper line-art of the Black Legacies Cast. Dart's the only one finished and posted at the moment, but I also plan on creating some for Zion, Kaelin (already started), Solana, Soltrane, Garren, Nova, and any other characters/dragoons who worm their way into the story later. The account is listed as my homepage on my profile screen, so if you're the visual sort of person and want a more accurate version (my perception, at least) of the character, feel free to check it out.

Kaelin's POV:

The heavy smell of roasting meat hung in the air over the bazaar, rising from the open spit and roasting pit that was sunk into the cobbles at the near end of the square. Three sides of beef and several swine rotated slowly over the flames, dripping fat into the hot coals as they cooked. Supervised by a swarthy looking man with his hair shaved away from one side of his head a young girl ran back and forth along the line of meat, digging out handfuls of pepper from an earthenware jar and tossing it liberally over the beef. A hawker stood nearby, face ruddy from the heat of the flames, shouting to be heard over the noise of the bazaar.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. The hawker really wasn't necessary: the scent alone was drawing people from clear across the crowded square. Regretfully I looked down at the crumbling pastry I held in my other hand. Most of the brown sugar had fallen off the top, and some of the sticky apple filling was leaking out of the side and dripping over my fingers. Wrinkling my nose, I stuffed the rest of it in my mouth. Why had I gone and spent the last of my coin on that sticky mess?

Wiping my sticky hand on my trousers, I stepped away from the wall against which I had been leaning and back into the crowd. Zion and Ry were both here somewhere; maybe I could sucker them into lending me some money. Zion, at least, shouldn't be too hard to find.

It was Mid-autumn, and the whole of Fueno was out in the streets for the Festival of the Harvest. This was in itself a bit of a paradox, because the only farms on the whole of the island are on the plateaus to the northeast, several hours away from the city itself. None the less the market was full, prices were outrageously high for extravagant foods, and beer was flowing like water wherever one looked. Shouldering my way perhaps a bit too forcefully through the crowd, I turned toward where the noise was loudest, cheers and rowdy yells riding over the racket from the rest of the crowd. Fueno wasn't known for its skill competitions, but they did offer prize money for the winners. Zion had been down there all day, enjoying himself immensely as he quite literally romped his way through the ranks. Since only blunted practice swords were allowed, he wasn't hampered by the fact that his knew sword was still in the forge in a nearby smithy.

The square was arranged like any other square around the world; hemmed in by storefronts and large houses, the exception being that the center was taken up by a large amphitheater. It was here that the contests were held, while a loud and mostly drunk audience cheered on the contestants from the benches arrayed around the stage.

Dodging around a pushcart heaped with vegetables, I slipped past a pair of hulking men and paused to scan the benches. It took a moment to locate Ry, sitting close to the stage and watching with a slightly bored expression as two farmers wrestled on the ground, swords lying forgotten on the ground in the heat of the moment.

He slid over to make room as I joined him. "Had enough?" He asked, frowning as a self-proclaimed referee tried to pull the two scuffling men apart, but only succeeded in getting both the men to beat him into insensibility before returning to their own tussle. "Zion's good for one more round, so we may as well stay through to the end."

"What do you mean, 'good for one more round'?" I asked, sitting next to him.

Ry shrugged. "He's got a limp pretty bad in one leg and his good eye's so puffed up that he probably can't see through it, but he thinks he's good for one more round at least."

"Idiot. Why doesn't he use a potion?"

"Against the rules, I guess." Ry scratched his ear. "Oh well. If he splatters himself this round, we can always scrape him up and lug him off to the clinic."

Men! I stretched, watching as both the wrestlers were dragged unconscious from the stage. "What about you? I thought that since your arm's healed, you'd be all over something like this."

The roar of the crowd drowned Ry's reply out as the final two contestants clambered up onto the stage to square off. Zion, it appeared, had won himself something of a following in the audience. Bowing and flourishing outrageously with his rather battered looking wooden sword, he took up a long stance in the center of the ring, sword resting against his shoulder. His opponent came into the ring more slowly, his jaw set in a grim line. He obviously wasn't pleased with the match-up, but he held the sword with the ease of one who knew it well and there was no hesitation as he stepped up.

I frowned. It was an odd match; whereas Zion was tall and almost rangy, this man was short and compact, with silvering hair shaved close to his skull. A blue ink tattoo was stretched across one cheek: after straining my eyes for a moment, I gave a low whistle. "Crap. Zion might be in trouble."

"Huh?" Ry took his eyes away from the ring long enough to look at me. "What do you mean?"

"His opponent; see that tattoo?"

He squinted. "A stag?"

"It's the White Heart," I explained. "The crest of the ruling family of Millie Seseau. That man… he must have been a member of the imperial guard at some point."

Ry sat back. "Whoops. Zion probably wouldn't know that then, would he? May as well just watch. Worst that'll happen will be that he gets a quick lesson in humility."

"I could stand to see that."

The referee came to the center of the ring, looked nervously between the two, then dropped a red handkerchief and dove off the stage before it had hit the ground. Which was for the better; almost as soon as the cloth had begun to fall Zion lunged forward, bringing the wooden sword down hard with a vast overhand swing. Somehow the other man blocked it; with a rattle the two sticks slid apart and clashed again as the pair lurched and whirled at each other, swords thrumming as they blurred through the air.

Zion had started out strong, but he was losing ground fast now; with his good eye almost completely swollen shut he had to depend on his scarred eye, which he found difficult to open more than halfway at the best of times. His breath was coming short too; next to me on the bench Ry shook his head. "He's pushing his limit. This'll be the sixth time he's gone up there this afternoon."

"What?" I took my eyes off the fight momentarily to glance at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that he's not one to hold back. He's been fighting all out today, and without healing potions to refresh himself, he's had no way to regain any of his energy." Ry shook his head. "Unless I'm wrong, he's fighting pretty much on his last legs." He said grimly. "He shouldn't be pushing himself this hard."

Looking back up at the stage again, Zion did seem to be holding his own in spite of his waning energy. He had backed the other man almost into a corner, holding his wooden sword in both hands as he drove in at his opponent, trying to find an opening. And yet each strike, no matter how much force was behind it was turned deftly aside with light parries, never finding their mark. His opponent wielded his stave deftly, using quick, flicking movements similar to how I'd handle a saber or rapier. By now he was breathing heavily as well, but he was untouched by Zion's questing weapon. For a time this continued, neither finding an opening nor offering one.

It was then that Zion made his mistake; in truth it was so small that it was all but impossible to see. One slash at chest height, just a fraction too far out to recover in time, and grey-head struck, kicking him viciously in the stomach and driving the butt of his weapon into Zion's shoulder. Forced completely around by the power of the blow, Zion's back was exposed. Not one to miss the advantage, the other man grimly shifted his grip on his pole and struck.

Involuntarily I gagged. The sharp crack of the stave splintering over Zion's back could be heard quite clearly over the sounds of the bazaar, and his scream even above that. Dropping to the boards he curled instinctively, hands clutching at his ribcage as he flinched back instinctively from the next blow.

Whether the man was even planning on striking again we never found out. Abruptly Ry was there between them, ominously drawing his sword. A nervous titter ran through the half-drunk crowd; wooden swords were one thing, but steel was a different matter altogether. On the platform grey-head took a step back, uncertain.

Ry lowered his sword slightly, but every eye followed it nervously. "That is enough," he said firmly. "This match is over. Kaelin?"

I started, then got to my feet, scrambling over the benches and up onto the platform. Zion looked even worse close up; the skin around his eye was swollen and broken and blood colored his mouth, dripping down his chin. Uttering a mild oath I dug into the pocket of my vest for a vial of healing potion.

Grey-head watched us for a moment, then turned his eyes back to Ry. "The young man put up a good fight," he admitted grudgingly. "My name is Mychael. Might I inquire as to his?"

"I don't think I'll extend the courtesy, seeing how you've treated him," Ry said coldly. As the referee climbed nervously back onto the stage, holding the broad bladed knife I assumed was the prize, he gestured in his direction. "Take your trinket and go. You've done enough here already."

Zion groaned and sat up, wiping the blood from his chin. Pushing the stopper back into the neck of the bottle, I tucked the healing potion back into my vest and helped him to his feet. Mychael took the knife from the referee without looking at him, his eyes shifting back and forth between Zion and Ry, measuring, remembering. The moment stretched; then Ry stepped smoothly between Zion and Mychael. "Go, Mychael. I'm sure someone else would like to take a turn. Unless, of course," he added, "you'd like to fight me?"

Mychael looked away, shoving the knife into his belt. "No, I think I'm about done for the day. Now if you'll excuse me, sirs." Passing his broken and splintered pole to the referee, he swung down off of the stage and disappeared into the crowd.

Ry watched him go, then sheathed his sword and turned around. "Are you okay?"

Zion grimaced, prodding a foot long splinter on the deck with the toe of his boot. "I'll be fine. Jeez, what made that guy think he had reason to break that thing over my back?"

"Who knows?" I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the edge of the stage. "Come on, let's move. We're holding up the show."

A few minutes later we stood in the mouth of an alley, out of the way of the flow of the crowd. Ry leaned against the whitewashed wall behind him, expressions flicking across his face as he stared at the wall opposite him, lost in thought. Chewing on a lock of hair I watched him with some interest. He frequently was like this; one moment active and in charge, the next withdrawn and pensive. He had seemed slightly disturbed by Mychael; immediately the three of us had gotten away from the stage he had retreated into his thoughts, leaving us to find an out of the way place to stand.

Zion sat a little farther back on an overturned barrel. He had taken out his spirit and was rolling it around in his fingers, humming absently to himself as he watched the light from the sinking sun play in its depths. Irrationally I was reminded of my brother Shane, always singing children's nonsense songs when he was concentrating on something else. Shane was odd like that: you could never actually tell whether he was paying attention to you or not.

At last Ry moved, or at least seemed to stir from his reverie. "I guess it can't be helped," he muttered, more to himself, I got the feeling, than to either of us.

"What?"

"Huh?" He lifted his head. "Did I say that out loud?"

"You spend too much of your time thinking, Ry." I complained. "Talk once in a while, would you? You're better off getting a second opinion besides your own, you know."

"Perhaps," he admitted, cracking the faintest ghost of a smile. After a moment the grin widened, and he rubbed his hands together briskly. "Right then." He raised his voice slightly. "You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that we get back to the inn and get some food before the innkeeper decides to rent our rooms out to someone else."

Somehow I doubted that that was the case, but what he seemed to be implying was right. Whatever it was, an alley probably wasn't the best place to discuss it. Turning to go, I had almost reached the mouth of the alley when Zion's voice pulled me up short.

"Uh, guys? Are these supposed to do this on their own?"

Ragnarok's POV:

Dart spun around to look at Zion, confirming with his eyes what I had already felt a bare moment before. The red-eye spirit was flaring brightly, beams of the sullen red light streaming through Zion's tightly clasped fingers. Behind us Kaelin's hand dove into her shirt, pulling out her own spirit which was reacting similarly to its counterpart.

I suppressed the urge to crow with glee.

/Another spirit?/

It has to be. They must have just arrived in the port

/Cultists/ Dart snorted. /Well in any case, we're going to have to head this off early. If that Mychael really did recognize Zion, then he might run straight to the cult to report him and collect the bounty/

I told you that you should have challenged him. No one would have thought anything of it if you knocked him out in a fight

/No, but they'd remember me. It's bad enough that Zion had to go and get himself involved before I could stop him/

"Ry?" Kaelin was shaking his shoulder. "Ry! What's the matter?"

"Another spirit," he mumbled distractedly, his mind still focusing on our conversation. /This isn't good, Ark. If any word gets back to Ayrel as to where we are…/

I know. Dart, talk to the children. They look as though they think you just passed out on your feet

/This is all your fault you know?/ He grumbled, shaking himself from his apparent 'daze'.

Now why would you think that?I replied mildly, but his mind was already back on the other conversation.

Waving off Kaelin, he shook his head. "Sorry. I'm… just a bit tired. It's been a long day."

"You sure you're alright?" Zion asked cautiously. "Are you sure you aren't sick or something? You're always zoning out like that; it's starting to freak me out."

"I've been in the hot springs almost every day for the past two weeks," he snapped. "How could I be sick? I told you, I'm just a bit tired is all. Now quick, tuck those spirits away before someone notices them." He sighed rubbing his forehead.

"What's put you in a mood all of a sudden?" Kaelin asked sourly. Binding her spirit in cloth to mute the glow, she slipped it into a pocket. "And what was that you said about another spirit?" She glanced nervously at Zion, who had backed of a short distance after Dart's initial outburst. He'd traveled with Dart longer than Kaelin had, and was distinctly wary of his 'temper'.

He stepped forward now, his expression suddenly intent. "One of the temple's dragoons?"

Dart hesitated, then nodded. "It has to be." Reaching down, he plucked at the belt loose-slung around his waist. "I have the rest of them here."

Zion nodded slowly. "So we need to find them then, right? How do we know them when we see them?"

"I don't think we'll have any trouble there," Kaelin said sourly, trying to conceal the glow from her spirit in the folds of her clothes. "If their spirit is responding anything like ours, then they should be lit up like a lamp."

Despite Kaelin's observation, were it not for the persistent pull of the unseen spirit, finding our quarry could have proved quite difficult. Fueno is built along the shore of the harbor rather than extending inland, and as a consequence the city's waterfront is extensive. Lined with quays and docks, the harbor crowded with moored ships and docked cargo barges, it could have taken us days to track the bearer down. But like a beacon it called out to the other spirits, and Dart at least, if not the others, was able to use it as a guide through the maze of humanity. Normally this wouldn't have been something the spirit would have allowed him to do; even with my own tampering the pull of the spirit was general, guiding us in the broadest sense of the direction. As we drew closer the feeling became increasingly unfocused, until at last it seemed that they must be all around us.

/They don't seem to be moving around very much/ Dart noted as a cart loaded with crates and furniture rattled past, sending up a wave of mud as it splashed through a puddle. /They must not know their way around very well/

Or they're trying to hideI said grimly, scanning our surroundings. The waterfront was like any waterfront you'd find world over: busy, crowded, and littered with taverns and smelling quite heavily of the day's catch. The ships were no longer moving in and out of port; what little of the water that could be seen rippling between the hulls of the moored ships was an oily orange, mirroring the colors of the sky with ever-shifting fluidity. Sailors and porters stalked by, weighted down with heavy burdens as they shifted cargo from stacks set at the ends of the wharves.

Kaelin and Zion were nearby, though out of sight. They wandered along either side of the street a discreet distance behind us, waiting for Dart to give some indication that we were drawing close. Now and then Zion's head was visible over the mass of the crowd but Kaelin had disappeared from sight entirely, indistinguishable from those around her.

As another wagon rattled past Dart grabbed the rail and swung up onto the open back, legs hanging over the lip as the cart continued to rattle and bounce along. The driver, oblivious to his unwanted passenger, hunkered over the reins of his mule without turning around. Slumping up against a lumpy sack that smelled heavily of turnips, Dart leaned back and closed his eyes.

/Jeez, I'm tired/

Are we getting closer?

/I can't really tell. With some luck it should focus somewhat/

Yeah, when we're right on top of themI snorted. There has to be a faster way to do this

/Well if you don't know of any, then I most certainly haven't the faintest clue/ He opened his eyes briefly, then shut them again. /Maybe if we sent Kaelin and Zion into some of the shops we'd have better luck than just roaming around the streets/

Perhaps. Do you have any particular plan of where to go from here?

/Not really. Furni, maybe. There's a fair chance that we'll find more bearers if we keep traveling around the ports, I think/

What about Ayrel?I asked.

/What about her?/ Dart said, trying to sound nonchalant. /As long as she doesn't come hunting us, I think we're in pretty good shape. Besides, I think I want to try and keep those two clear of her for as long as possible/

They're going to have to find out sooner or later

/I know. But not yet/ It was almost a plea.

Dart, you're going to have to…what is it?I changed subject mid-sentence as Dart sat up suddenly, eyes fixed on one of the shop fronts nearby. A moment later I felt it; with a jerk that skewed my 'vision' the pull of the spirit came abruptly into focus as two people stepped hurriedly through the doorway that Dart had his eyes fixed so avidly upon.

"There," he breathed, pushing himself up and following the two as they merged into the flow of the crowd. Grabbing the rail of the wagon he vaulted over the edge, landing in the midst of a crowd of startled children.

/Where're Kaelin and Zion?/ He asked, his stride unhurried though his eyes never left the taller of the two, a sandy haired man with a battered canvas sack slung over his shoulder.

They're comingZion was at least, ducking and scrambling to get through the crowd. Kaelin was no where in sight, as invisible as a thief. At least that was what I hoped and that she hadn't ducked off to grab a drink somewhere.

Here and there boys were clambering up the wooden posts that held the streetlights, smoking wands of wood clamped in their teeth to light the wicks of the tallow candles. The crowd had begun to thin as workers headed home or to the taverns, eager to join in the rowdier end of the day's festivities. The couple we followed moved quickly and tensely, wanting to get clear of the crowd, turning down a side street that led away from the heart of the activity. Unfazed, Dart followed, the ragged hem of his coat flapping around his legs as he turned quickly down the street after them.

It was much quieter here. Long shadows slid across the cobbles, the high buildings sheltering it from the fading sunlight. A stone mason was coming toward us pushing an empty barrow that wobbled and squealed as he went, haggard and tired looking after a day of work. Keeping well out of his way, Dart tucked his hands into his pockets and continued walking. Up ahead the couple had stopped, the tall man stooped over the smaller, whom I could now see was a woman. They were dressed in faded travelling cloaks and dusty looking finery, and while neither was armed that I could see, the man had the bearing of a fighter.

I think we just found our manI murmured as we approached.

/They don't look much like cultists/ Dart commented.

They don't have to look it to be it

/You don't need to tell me that. I was just stating the obvious/

Don't. That's one of the first signs of a softening mind

/I thought that was talking to yourself/ Dart mused. Pushing his hands deeper into his pockets, he put on a distant look as he passed the two, keeping his eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance. /Where's Zion?/

I checked quickly behind, then turned my attention back to the pair. He's at the end of the street. I don't see Kaelin anywhereI replied. The woman was watching us suspiciously out of the corner of her eyes; her cloak twitched slightly as she tucked something into her shirt. It's the girl, Dart. She has the spirit

/Which one?/ Dart asked sharply. Passing them he reached the end of the street and turned left. After a few steps he stopped and turned around, leaning against the wall.

How should I know? She had it hidden. It must be reacting though, otherwise they'd probably be sticking to the main street

/Hopefully/ Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took a quick look up and down the street. It met up with the second one in a T-shaped intersection, so while it was impossible to see anyone on the other street, unless they turned around and traveled back the way from which they had come, they would be walking directly past us. /Now let's just hope that Zion has at least some idea of what's going on/

Whether he did or not I wasn't sure, but apparently the man at least had had enough of strange people wandering up and down the street. He stepped into view, still talking back over his shoulder to the girl as he came around the corner.

"Look Lass, there's not a whole lot that we can do about this now. We may as well just find a roof to put ourselves up under for the night and sleep on it." Turning around he stopped abruptly as Dart, thumbs hooked in his belt and coat thrown back to expose the hilt of his sword, stepped smoothly from the wall to block his path.

"Cai? What are you…?" The woman, a petite beauty with hundreds of tiny red-blonde pleats spilling out from beneath the hood of her cloak, stopped just short of running into the man's back. Taking in the situation at a glance, she took a step back, her eyes fixed on Dart. "Who are you?"

Dart didn't move. "That's rather impolite, don't you think?" He shook his head. "Demanding someone else's name before introducing yourself first? Tsk, what manners they're teaching today. On the other hand, I could be asking you the same question."

"What do you want?" The man, Cai, took a step back also, stretching out one arm to protect the woman.

"That depends on what it is you want."

My, aren't we cryptic today

/Hey, shut up. I'm allowed to have some fun, aren't I?/

Theatrics aren't your thing Dart. Leave them to Garren

Cai reached behind his back; judging from his posture, he had his hand on a knife. "Look, I'm not warning you again. Shove off and let us be."

Somewhere in the distance there was a popping sound, and then another. A moment later there was an explosion of light in the purple-blue sky above, fingers of orange streaking off in all directions. Fireworks; the night's festival must have been kicking off.

As the light from the firework faded, Dart allowed himself a tired sigh. "I'm afraid I can't do that, mister. Not until I know what it is that you're about."

"What's that supposed to-" he spun around as Zion emerged out of the gloom behind them, giving Dart an odd look as he did so.

"Don't let them leave!" Dart barked. Cai stepped sideways, pulling the woman after him, but after a few steps he ran up against the wall on the other side of the street. Turning to face again he squared off, passing the knife to the woman and raising his fists. "They're the ones we want."

Cai glared at him, but his lips moved slightly as he muttered something to the woman. Then as Zion took a cautious step forward he bristled, raising his voice. "Don't you come any closer, unless you relish the idea of havin' your- Solana!"

The woman, Solana, darted out from behind him with her belt knife held low, lunging at Dart with a surprising turn of speed. Almost casually Dart sidestepped her thrust, snatching her wrist and wrenching it around behind her back as she passed, bringing her up short. The knife fell to the stones with a clatter and was kicked away; locking her other arm, Dart grimly held her close while she struggled and shouted.

Cai snarled and leaped at Zion, who was already moving to intercept him. It was a noble effort; Cai wasn't a small man by any means, and against any lesser man it may have worked. Unfortunately for him, you don't spend five years wielding a five and a half-foot greatsword without building up a considerable amount of muscle. Zion simply plowed through him, slamming Cai against the brick wall and pinning him there with his shoulders. Cai , the wind knocked completely from him, hung stunned, gasping for breath.

"Thank you," Dart called to Zion through gritted teeth. Solana, thrashing in his grip, managed to land a solid kick across his shins, and they throbbed as he struggled to hold her without hurting her.

"Let him go!" She cried, trying to land another kick. "Let him go! Do it, or I swear I'll…!" She trailed off, her struggles ceasing and a look of concentration spreading across her face.

Dart swore. /She's going to try to transform/

But nothing happened. Long seconds passed and she opened her eyes again, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. "Wha…no! What happened!" She cried, going limp in Dart's grip.

"Looking for this?"

Surprised, Dart twisted around as best he could. Kaelin stood a few steps behind him, rolling the jade dragoon spirit back and forth across the knuckles of one hand. "Kaelin?" He asked incredulously. "When in the name of…glad you decided to show up."

She shrugged, tossing the spirit into the air and catching it with her other hand as it fell. "It fell out of my Lady's cloak while she was trying to kick you in the knee." She peered closely at first the stone, then shifted her gaze to Solana. "Well, this is what we came here for, right? So what now?"

"No!" Solana gasped, starting to thrash again even more frantically than before. "I won't! I'm not going to be a dog on a leash for your bloody Moon Child!"

/What?/ Stunned, Dart let her go. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees in surprise.

What the hell did you do that for! Grab her!

Kaelin though, was faster. Tucking the jade spirit away she slipped nimbly past Dart and grabbed the other woman by the back of the neck. Ignoring Cai's enraged cry, she twisted Solana around until she was facing her. "Do you mean to tell us," she said slowly, "that you're not with the Temples?"

"No!" She spat, glaring defiantly back.

Kaelin said nothing. In fact, for a good minute or two no one said anything; the only sounds were that of Solana's heavy breathing and the sporadic burst of fireworks overhead.

At last Dart stirred. "Let them go."

"What?" Zion swiveled his head around to look at him.

"You heard the Lady: they aren't with the temples." Dart sounded tired, but I could feel the happiness this statement brought flitting through him like a songbird.

You sound relieved

/Of course I'm relieved/ In spite of his words, Dart loosened his sword in its sheath as Zion slowly let Cai down. Stooping, he retrieved Solana's knife from where it had fallen. While Kaelin helped Solana to her feet and Cai watched Zion mistrustfully, he turned it over in his hands, testing the edge against his thumb. "You're not with the temples, then. So who are you?"

"We could be asking the same thing about you." Taking Solana by the elbow, Cai turned so that he could keep his eyes on all three of us at once. "What do you want?"

"Want?" Zion shook his head slowly. "Nothing. We were afraid you had been sent by the temple."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Solana held out her hand to Kaelin. "If you'd please, could I have back my…stone?"

"What, this?" Like magic the stone was in Kaelin's hands, rolling back and forth over her knuckles. Taking it between two fingers she held it up and peered at it in the light of another firework. "You should really take better care of your valuables Lady. I'm better than the common pickpocket, but if things just start to fall out of your pockets than anyone could pick them up." With a flick of her fingers she tossed it back into Solana's waiting hand.

"Well I…" Solana trailed off, looking dumbly first from one face, then to the next. Finally she drew her cloak closer around her, reaching for the man's arm. "Come on Cai. We don't want to be out here all night." With a quick, nervous nod of thanks to Kaelin, she turned and started to walk hurriedly away, her husband trailing her.

Dart!

"Don't you find it strange, Lady Solana," Dart called after her, "that the moment we came your spirit stopped flaring?" He pushed his sword the rest of the way into the sheath and folded his arms over his chest.

Solana stopped abruptly and spun around to face us. "Who are you?" She demanded, her hand automatically closing tighter around the spirit. "Who are you, and what do you want with us?"

Just end this Dart. We should be heading back soon, before someone notices and thinks we're terrorizing the child

By way of response, Dart pushed back his coat so that the carrier belt was in full evidence. "Zion, Kaelin? Would you do the honors?"

Cai swore softly as Kaelin and Zion produced their spirits, the glow muted so as not to be so easily noticed. When Solana's spirit burst into emerald light in response with a soft cry from its master, Zion grinned. "I'm sure you'd understand if we said the temples had no particular love for us either."

Zion's POV:

I leaned back against the overstuffed back of the armchair, my bottom sliding slightly on the horsehair cover as I did so. Kaelin sat on one of the arms, her feet propped against the end of the bed while Ry stood by the window, leaning on the sill. Solana and Cai sat on the bed, the former cupping a mug of mulled wine from the inn's kitchens in her hands. She stared at the floor, absently sipping at her drink from time to time, waiting for Ry to digest what she'd told us. To be honest I wasn't all that surprised when they had followed us back to the inn, but the fact that Solana knew apparently next to nothing about dragoons surprised me. Apparently she hadn't used her spirit again since fleeing Tiberoa, so really had no more than the vaguest impression of how to truly put it to use. Even Kaelin, who was now busily wiping the blade of her saber with a rag, had found time during our stay in Fueno to venture out into the countryside and get some experience with her spirit.

Ry stared at a point some six feet beyond the wall, lost in thought. Ultimately the choice was his, but I honestly didn't see what other choices there were. Solana was a dragoon; it was as simple as that. She wanted to stay out of reach of the temples, and we needed to gather the rest of the spirits. What bothered me was her apparent lack of fighting experience. Why would a spirit choose someone who wasn't much with a weapon as its bearer? I'd have to ask Ry about it later; in any case, it didn't seem to faze him overly much.

Solana took another sip of the wine, more to cover the silence, I thought, than out of any real thirst. "So…if I go with you, what then?" She asked, starring into the depths of the steaming liquid.

Ry blinked, coming out of his stupor. "Huh?"

"Why? To what purpose?"

Kaelin snorted, and gave her blade a vicious swipe with her rag. "I've been wondering the same thing. Y'know Ry, we've been trundling around with you for a good few weeks now, and I hardly know more now than when I started out in the first place." She dropped the rag and set her saber on the floor, giving him a very direct look. "Up until now I've been content, if only because you seem to know how to stay out of the temple's radar. But the lady here-"

"Please, just call me Solana."

"-Solana," Kaelin corrected, "raises a good point. What is it exactly that you plan on doing once you gather all of us? What's the point? I mean, you're not even a dragoon yourself." She hesitated, and then posed the question. "Are you?"

"If I were, what reason would I have for hiding it from you?" He replied dryly, then laughed mirthlessly. The spirits on the carrier belt gleamed dully and unresponsive in the lamplight. No, none of them were his.

"So why then?" He had our full attention now. Turning away, he glanced out the window.

"I…I'm not entirely sure." He admitted slowly. "The spirits have been as good as dormant for hundreds of years now, and thousands before even that. And now it seems that everywhere I turn there's another bearer. These things don't happen without a reason." He rubbed his forehead, then pulled off the red bandana that held the hair back from his face. Unrestrained his hair flopped over his eyes; unconsciously he brushed it away. "Something's happening," he said finally, "something big. If it should come to pass, then it could well eclipse any cataclysm this world has ever seen. If it should, I don't honestly see anyway to fight it. But for the moment…" he held up his hand, thumb and index finger a few inches apart. "It's still small. And for as long as it's small, there's still a fighting chance. Honestly if I could I'd take this on myself alone but…" he turned around, offering a small smile. "It seems that fate, for once, is playing in my favor."

"Ry…" I started, but before I could say anymore, he clapped his hands together briskly and started again.

"Right then. Solana, take your time deciding. We aren't going anywhere in a hurry just yet, so think it over. There's another room down the hall that should be vacant; talk to the innkeeper about that. It's a bit small in here for five people," he added a bit ruefully, looking around at the two beds and canvas cot on which we'd been sleeping the past few nights. Grabbing his sword from where it stood propped against the doorframe, he sheathed it and reached for the doorknob.

"Hey-" I started to my feet. "Where are you going?"

The door swung open. "I need some time to think. The springs are still open, I think." The door shut soundly behind him and we were left in silence, listening to the sound of his fading footsteps.

o

In the harbor a ship bobbed at anchor, the light streaming from its portholes reflecting on the inky surface of the water. It was a large vessel, and while its kind were often seen in this port, in almost any other it would have drawn awed looks and captured the imagination of any boy watching it from the quay. Two hundred meters from tip to stern and boasting a full array of cannons, The Lancet was the fruit of a great many generations of steamships and the pride and joy of the Temple's small fleet. A dinghy had approached it sometime ago; now it returned to the shore, leaving one man behind on the deck of The Lancet.

Mychael, the White Heart tattoo stretched across one cheek, watched the dinghy's progress for a moment before turning his attention back to the two men standing at attention before him, light from the lanterns reflecting off the highly polished contours of their helms. "Here, one of you take my bag, would you? I picked up more stuff then I'd thought."

Surprisingly the dread knights did as they were bid, one springing forward to take the canvas sack while the other fell into step beside. "Commander Mychael? A pigeon came in while you were ashore." The knight offered up a thin paper tube, tied with a length of waxy twine. "I thought it would be best if you were to read it."

"Good man." Mychael took the tube, pulled off the twine and unrolled it, scanning through the message. After a moment he let it roll itself up again, tucking it into a pocket. "Has there been any messages from the Grand Commander as of yet?"

"No sir."

"Then it's my call," he mused, squinting up at the moon. "All right then. Tell the ship's captain to weigh anchor. We're heading for Doneau."

"My lord Commander?"

Mychael stopped. "Damnen's on shore, and so are the other two. Damnen and the girl wouldn't pose too much of a threat, but as long as the other one is around, we'd probably be best not to press matters. Besides, if what the lady Asalla suspects is true, then they shall be coming to Fletz next."

"Forgive me for asking, my Lord," the other man interrupted hesitantly, "but what makes you so certain? Uh…?" he trailed of as the commander dug out the message and pressed it into his hands. Noting the seal on the paper, he unrolled it and read it. "A dispatch from Captain Soltrane?" He exclaimed, looking up sharply. "You're trusting that one-"

"Captain Soltrane," Mychael cut in, "has been entrusted to this by the Moon Child herself. If you have any objection to her choice, feel free to make tracks to Fletz and explain that to her. I'm not sure if she'll listen, but you'll make an absolutely splendid smear on the wall if she should."

"I… forgive me my Lord. I forgot my place."

"I should say so. You're lucky, Owen, that I'm much more understanding than the Moon Child is. As for Soltrane…" He turned to look out at the harbor, eyes far away as he watched the play of the town's light's on the waterfront. "I have absolute trust in the Captain's ability to handle the situation, as precarious as it could potentially be."

Ren said nothing to this, still smarting from the reprimand. Noting this, Mychael nodded approvingly. "Just keep this in mind, kid. For one reason or another, quite often the best of us never make it to the top. Soltrane has progressed as far through the ranks as will be allowed, unfortunately, but never for a minute think that that is an accurate measure of ability. Now, where did that lad run off to with my bag?"

A short time later The Lancet weighed anchor and steamed off into the night, leaving no evidence to show that it had ever visited port.

Don't take life for granted;

Don't let it pass you by

Make the best of what you can

From no task should you shy

Some short years is all we have

Before we're on our way

Take it to the fullest

Savor each and every day

Until the end has come at last

Let life not go to waste

It's the greatest gift we're given

So don't let it pass in haste

o

Dedicated in loving memory to Edward Snair

A great friend who was taken from us too soon

Remembered and treasured by all whom you touched

Peace be with you

1987-2004