A/N: This chapter is mostly fulfilling a request of SweetLee's… she wanted to know more about Bevier's past, and has been bugging me about it for a while. Since I didn't have any ideas for Chapter Seven anyway, I decided that I would be generous and provide some background information about him… sure, it may not be the real background that Mr. Eddings has lying around somewhere—believe me… I know that he has every main character's background written in some detail—but… it works for my story.shrugs And--will Elledra and the boys find Bevier this chapter? Who knows? Read on, and find out!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of David Eddings's characters, though everyone else is mine. Hey! I can say that I own a world now, too! Huzzah, I feel special.

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Chapter Six

Expressions flitted fleetingly across his face as he sank deeper into sleep. Valmai ripped off a piece of cooked meat with her teeth and ate it, watching Bevier sleep. He still wasn't fully recovered from the rock incident, but he would be fine. His brain was just jarred slightly, was all. She glanced at Nightflash, who was idly tapping the tip of his tail on the ground.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked softly.

Nightflash didn't answer for a while. I don't know, he said finally. He closed his luminous eyes. There's always the Eyes, he added very quietly several minutes of silence later.

"How do we know they even exist here? We have no proof," Valmai replied.

The dragon shook his head. They exist everywhere.

The dragon knight's brows went up. "Alright. Say they exist here. How do we find them? Can you sense them?"

Not when they are in the boxes, no.

Valmai threw the rest of her meat into the fire and watched it crackle and blacken. "Then how would they help us if we can't even find them?"

I can smell the metals.

Valmai stared at him. "Oh."

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A small child of perhaps four or five clung to his mother, his olive-hued face buried in her chest. His mother hurried out the door, a thick beam of wood engulfed in flame falling behind her. Clutching her child closer, she ran faster, ignoring the screams behind her. What she wouldn't give to have saved them—her family, her servants… her beloved husband. But she had him to think about, and maternal instincts took control of her entire being, allowing no room for anything else. She knew that she, badly burned by the fire, was not long for this world, but she had to get him so safety. That came above everything else—even her own life.

That's what it cost her.

She was about halfway down a country road when, twisting her ankle sharply and suddenly in a small ditch, she fell. Turning her body around, she managed to land hard on her back, saving her child from being crushed. Her long, blue-black hair served as a sort of rudimentary pillow for her aching, burned head. She felt blood trickle down one side of her face, but she made cooing noises to comfort and soothe her son. Through the entire ordeal, he hadn't cried or even whimpered.

"So strong," she breathed to him, a faint smile touching her paling lips. "Just like… your father…"

He watched her with wide eyes, as if he knew she would be leaving him soon.

"You must always be strong, love… and you mustn't worry… about me. You… you'll be taken care of… my darling… my dear, dear… Bevier…"

His name was her last dying breath as her dark eyes closed for the final time. Bevier watched his mother slip silently into the deep sleep of death ((Hamlet! x.x;; )), and it was then, witnessing the first death of his life, that he felt tears sting his wide eyes.

That was how they found him: crying silently by the side of the road, clinging to a dead woman who, for all her horrible burns, looked as if she went in peace. She would rest in her grave with the firm belief that her son would be safe, and taken care of.

A cowled man gently picked the crying child up, and spoke soft words of comfort to him, even as a few of the other robed men picked up the dead woman and wrapped her in a spare cloak. The small group of monks then continued on their way.

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"There's forty-two of them, right?"

The burgundy dragon nodded his head. Yes. One metal for each sentient race on Miomir.

"Why does each race have to be represented?"

That made Nightflash pause. I suppose it's so that the Eyes can't gain control of any particular race while still in their boxes, he replied.

"But, if they're everywhere, wouldn't they need more than forty-two metals to be controlled?"

Perhaps, but they are of our world, so maybe the forty two are enough. He sounded doubtful, despite his words.

Valmai fell silent for a while again, her gaze drifting back over to Bevier.

"Can you smell them now?"

Nightflash cocked his head to the side some. I can smell the types of metal in the world, but they aren't in one place, he answered.

"Can they all travel to different worlds?"

I don't know.

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He was twelve, and full of mischief. Then again, all boys around that age are full of mischief. He seemed to have more, however, and he was constantly finding himself in trouble. The orphans of the monastery were punished by being given a multitude of chores to complete. Bevier used to be sent to the kitchens, but after seeing a rapid decrease in their food, the cooks complained, and Bevier no longer went to the kitchens. He was sent to the parapets that encircled the stone monastery to stand watch—when he wasn't scrubbing the walkway or fixing broken walls and the like. It was a solitary job, but he didn't mind it; he was busy thinking of a way to escape. It wasn't that the monks mistreated him, but he didn't want to stay. He didn't like being cooped up inside when his soul yearned for the road. He wasn't allowed to go outside very often anymore, since whenever they permitted him and some others to leave the monastery walls for whatever reason, Bevier always slipped away and made for the woods. He only managed to escape once, however, and the monks sent a few of their brethren—of whom Bevier was dubious of their positions as monks—to get him back. He was scrubbing the parapets in a matter of hours.

That little incident had been four years ago. Now, as the sun hung low in the sky, Bevier's quick mind devised a plan of escape. After their evening meal, the monks retreated to their cells for private evening prayers. After that, they gathered in the chapel. Of course, that was nearly three hours later. Those three hours when no one paced the halls was his time to escape. It was a wonder he hadn't thought of it before. By the time they noticed he was gone, he would be too far away for any of the brothers to find him.

His plan went without a hitch. He finished his chores just in time to join the monks for evening dinner. Of what he did eat, he ate in silence. If he had been older and more experienced, he would have eaten more, for he didn't know how long the food he had stolen from the kitchen would last him. But, at twelve, he wasn't experienced enough in the ways of the world to know that, nor could he calm his mind enough to think to eat. For once, even prayers couldn't come fast enough for him.

Excusing himself early from dinner—claiming he needed to get to his prayers—Bevier nearly ran to his cell, knocking an older monk over in the hall.

"Slow down, Bevier. Think of where you go before you run. You never know what—or who—might run into," Larr, the monk Bevier was currently helping up, said. Then he added, with a chuckle, "Literally."

"I'm sorry, Brother Larr," the boy replied. "I was in a hurry."

"I noticed," Larr responded, brushing his robe a bit. Then he eyed Bevier critically. "In a hurry to evening prayers? Of all the years I've known you, I've never seen you this excited to pray."

Bevier, subject to his emotions as usual, flushed and looked at the ground. "Today… today is a day for change," he said meekly, hoping the brother would accept his vague answer.

Larr nodded sagely, and seemed to acquiesce to Bevier's excuse. In truth, he knew that the boy had an ulterior motive. "Yes, yes. The time for change is now. Don't forget that, Bevier. We all are a part of God's plan, and, like it or not, we are subject to His divine will." His voice dropped and he took a stop closer to the boy. "I know you were not meant to stay in this monastery. You are destined for greater things. Don't pass the chance to fulfil your destiny as mere folly. God has plans for you, Bevier; I know it. Just remember to follow your heart, for it will never lead you astray." His voice seemed longing and wistful, as if he had passed up an opportunity that he regretted not taking.

Bevier nodded. "I will, Brother Larr," he promised sincerely.

"Good, lad. Now, off to evening prayers you go," Larr said, his voice light again.

Bevier smiled and ran off to his cell. He would miss Brother Larr, he decided as he put the last of his belongings in his pack. But that was about all he would miss.

Half an hour later, when everything was quiet enough for Bevier's state of mind, he crept out of his cell, closing the door silently behind him. Heart pounding, he slipped on soft leather boots through the stone corroders, holding his breath every time he went by a cell he knew contained one of the many brothers who lived in the monastery. Soon, he clambered on top of the tall parapets and unravelled a strong hemp rope that, ironically, he had been taught to make by the brothers. Securing it around a large piece of stone jutting out of the top of the rampart and tossing it over the side, Bevier slowly made his way down the outside wall.

Leaving the rope regretfully behind, the young Arcian stole away into the nearby forest, not looking back at the monastery once.

The end of Bevier's rope that was tied to the stone was lifted up and slowly rolled into a neat, tight circle that came from years of practice.

"Godspeed," Brother Larr murmured, watching the small figure of Bevier vanish into the trees.

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"Did you sense one before we came here?" Valmai asked, uninterestedly poking at the campfire.

Nightflash shook his head. I don't remember, he replied.

"Aren't dragons notorious for their memories?"

Excuse me?

"I bet you can tell me everything you ate for a meal over a year ago, how much each piece of it weighed, and probably what its name was. But when we get transported to another world, you don't even remember what happened five bloody minutes before!" She threw some dirt into the flames. "Some notorious memory. It only blocks out the important things."

The burgundy dragon puffed up indignantly. Food is important. You don't remember anything, either.

"Maybe I was sleeping."

Maybe I was, too. Nightflash cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. Or… maybe our memories were erased.

"How? When? Why? By whom?"

Those are extremely good questions. None of which I know how to answer.

Valmai sighed. "Wonderful. Just… wonderful."

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"That's a long enough break for you, you troublemaker. Get back to work!"

"Yessir!" Bevier ran outside and picked up the axe. Swinging the blade back, he neatly cleft the wood stump in two.

This was his third year on the road, and about his twentieth town. Ever since leaving the monastery, Bevier travelled all over Arcium, spending a few days here and there in whatever town he found himself in, working odd jobs for food and a place to stay for as long he was in the town. He was only fifteen, but he had learned a lot since he left the monastery. More, in his opinion, than he would have learned living with the monks. He grunted and continued to chop wood. Sure, it was a lot more strenuous physically, but at least he didn't have to spend half his day praying. As he paused before his next swing, Bevier's sharp ears heard a muffled voice from inside the inn he was currently working at that sounded a bit familiar. Narrowing his eyes a bit, Bevier let the axe in his hand fall slightly as he took a few quiet steps closer so he could hear better.

"… Black hair?"

"… I think so…"

"… Out back?"

"… Wood… should be there…"

Bevier's dark eyes widened and he dropped the axe. The brothers had caught up to him. He would have thought they'd have stopped looking long ago. It had been three years, after all. He ran to the stable and hurried up to the loft above the horses and dove under some straw, dragging his cloth bag of meagre belongings with him. If he had learned any skill in the past three years, it had been to lie completely still when the time called for it. His breathing unconsciously slowed and quieted to be virtually inaudible, but he kept his eyes open, the hay parting just so he could see out of it, though it was a bit obscured. He didn't mind at all; in fact, the more his view was obscured, the less likely his pursuers were able to see him—if they came up here at all.

Soon, he heard the telltale sound of boots over wood, and he bit his lower lip, waiting for them to pass on. Another set followed soon after the first, which, to his dismay, started up the wooden ladder leading up to the loft. His breathing stopped completely as the pair of footsteps reached the loft. Slowly, agonisingly, they walked in front of Bevier's hiding place, then continued past it, paused, turned, then went back down the ladder without stopping again. Still, Bevier didn't let out any sort of sigh of relief; he let out a slow, controlled silent breath. He remained there for about an hour, just to make sure that the two who had come looking for him were good and gone. Warily, he crept out from under the hay and, without bothering to brush himself or his bag off, scurried down the ladder and stole away from the stable as fast as he could. The innkeeper hadn't given him his meal or pay for the day, but he didn't care. He had stolen some bread and cheese from the kitchen that morning before anyone had stirred from their slumber, just in case he had to be on the move again. He had learned early on that it was always an advantageous idea to be prepared to move to a new location the next moment, and that rule had served him well the past three years.

So he ran again. Anywhere was better than his past.

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Valmai gently shook Bevier awake with one hand, kneeling next to him. He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, starting a little, not remembering where he was for a few moments.

"Whoa, there, Rock Boy," she said softly, holding firmly onto his shoulder when he looked as if he was going to fall back. "It's just me. Here," she added, looking down and lifting up a wooden bowl with steam coming out of it. "Courtesy of Nightflash." She offered him the bowl with a genial smile on her face.

He sat up a bit more and took the bowl, though he gave her a quizzical look while doing so.

"He went and caught us a stag," the dragon knight explained at his look.

"Oh." Bevier took the spoon she offered him as well and ate slowly, his head still pounding. As if reading his thoughts, Valmai cocked her head to the side a bit.

"How's your head?"

He squinted one eye shut and looked up, as if to see his head. "It doesn't hurt quite as much, thank you." Of course he was underplaying it a bit. He didn't want to show any more weaknesses to this woman knight than he had to.

She, of course, knew that he was underplaying it; in being a knight herself, she knew the importance of making one's wounds and hurts seem less than they really were. She also knew that there would be no point in telling him otherwise.

"How's the stew?" she asked instead.

"Delicious." Bevier looked around a bit. "Where's your… dragon?" He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of a beast that wasn't supposed to be real in the same camp as he was.

"Nightflash?" Valmai shrugged. "He's out and about, I suppose. Flying, perhaps."

"Oh."

The Arcian ate the rest of his meal in silence, his thoughts submerged in his past. The dragon knight studied him for a moment. He really wasn't too bad, now that she thought about it.

Of course he isn't, silly, a voice most assuredly not Nightflash's said in her mind. Her eyes widened.

Who…?

Why, dear Bevier, of course! Who did you think I was talking about?

Who are you! Get out of my head!

Musical laughter pealed through the air—not just her head. Bevier's eyes focused again and he lifted his head, then sighed, closing his eyes.

"Did… did you hear that, too?" Valmai whispered.

"Yes, and you don't have to whisper. She can hear you, anyway," Bevier replied sullenly.

"What are you talking about?" Valmai cast Bevier a baffled look.

"Aphrael," was his only answer.

"Who—" Before she could finish, the harsh sound of shepherd pipes came lilting into the camp, and a little girl who looked about six or so came dancing into the camp. She twirled right up to Bevier and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he smiled albeit a little apologetically, and put down his now-empty bowl.

"This is Aphrael."

The little girl made a happy trill on her pipes.

Valmai stared at the little girl in astonishment. She had seen a child exactly like this in one of her dreams. She had the same dark hair, the same large dark eyes, and even wore the same plain white smock with the little rope tied about her petite waist. Sweet Lacuuna, she even had the same grass-stained feet!

Aphrael lowered the flute from her lips and smiled at Valmai. "Don't look so surprised, Valmai."

Bevier looked at the Child Goddess sharply. "You know her?"

"Bevier, you're a sweetie, but you can be so naïve at times," the little girl told him fondly, patting his cheek. "Of course I know who she is. I was in one of her dreams before she came here."

The Cyrinic's mouth opened to ask her another question, but he stopped himself just short of blasphemy. Shaking his head a bit, he put a hand over his face.

"You knew I was coming here?" Valmai asked suspiciously.

"Well, of course. I helped bring you over. And let me tell you, the gods on your world can be so touchy sometimes! Well, not a touchy as his Elene god," here Aphrael motioned to Bevier, "but some of them were so stuck up! But I like the god you serve." The Child Goddess smiled. She wouldn't tell them yet that she hadn't played a single part in bringing Valmai or her dragon to this world.

Valmai joined her, though the smile was more of one just playing along because they didn't know quite what to make of the situation. "Yes, he's a delightful god."

"Agreeable too. Especially under the right circumstances." Aphrael let out another laugh, and Valmai couldn't help but give her own amused chuckle.

"Did you need anything, Aphrael?" Bevier asked, changing the subject. Gods of different worlds? He was getting in way over his head far too quickly.

She looked at him over her shoulder benignly. "Of course not. I just love being around you!" Whirling, she threw her arms around him and planted several kisses before settling down in his lap.

Of course, Bevier didn't resist the Younger Goddess sitting down in his lap, and he even idly toyed with her hair.

"Why did you stop dreaming, Bevier?" Aphrael asked softly, and he knew that Valmai couldn't hear them, even though she was only a mere three feet away. The knight looked at her, startled.

"Dreaming?"

"About your past… You were such the troublesome boy, Bevier. No one would ever guess the problems that you got yourself into… or that you got Reefe into."

"He got us into plenty of trouble himself—how did you know about Reefe?"

She laughed, her laugh tinkling through the air like little bells. "Bevier, I'm a Goddess. I know these things."

He cleared his throat a bit, as if to change the subject again, and she kissed him some more, until he was more pleasant. "Why don't you go back to sleep? Nothing interesting is going to happen, and you need your rest, anyway."

"But won't Valmai wonder what happened if I just passed out again?"

"She won't even remember that you woke up in the first place, Bevier."

He decided not to press the issue, and felt himself drift back—physically and mentally—until he was asleep on his cloak again.

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He stood in front of the Chapterhouse in the freezing rain, hugging a hand-me-down rugged cloak that was too big for him closer to himself, trying to keep out the chill. Looking up at the tall walls, a memory of the monastery where he grew up flashed through his mind, but he knew it was different this time. To him, it felt as if he were meeting his destiny. Taking in a deep breath, he shifted his pack on his shoulder and walked up to the gate, where he was greeted by two formidable-looking knights with gleaming white cloaks—well, they would have been gleamed had they not been soaked.

"Who art thou who darest approach a house of God? " one of them asked in a booming voice.

Bevier, shaking in his boots, tried to draw himself up into a person much more courageous than he felt, and answered, if a bit shakily, "B-bevier. I've come to, uh, join your order."

Evidently not expecting this, the knight who had spoken looked down at Bevier.

"You?" he inquired incredulously, quirking a dark brow at the boy.

"Y-yes. Me."

The two armoured men exchanged a look.

"We don't usually accept just anyone from the streets," the knight who had not yet spoken told Bevier haughtily. "Nor anyone as old as you."

"Let him enter," called a voice from behind the knights.

"L-lord Abriel!" the second knight stammered as the two mounted warriors parted for the new speaker.

"Who are you boy?" the one named Lord Abriel asked a very frightened Bevier.

"He's just some street scum—" the first knight started, but his lord raised a hand to silence him.

"Who are you, boy?" Lord Abriel asked Bevier again.

"Bevier… my name is Bevier," he replied.

"What are you doing here, Bevier? Do your parents know where you are?" The lord knelt down in front of the boy. "Even though you seem to be quite the young man, you certainly aren't old enough to be out on your own yet."

"I'm sixteen, and my parents don't care, Sir."

"Why not?" Abriel hid his surprise.

"They're dead. I never knew my parents."

"I see… Well, Bevier, you're a bit older than the boys we normally accept, but I have a good feeling about you. Why don't you come inside, and we'll get you dry and warm all right? Then we can talk some more." Abriel stood and led Bevier inside, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. The knights stared after them, but then shrugged it off. Lord Abriel knew what he was doing, they decided.

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Abriel didn't look up from his desk as a young novitiate entered the room quietly.

"Thou art, uh, kind enough, to, um…" The young man stumbled over his words.

"'Thou are kind to bid mine lowly self entrance', " Lord Abriel supplied for him. As he looked up, he said, "Thou art noble enough to earn it. Welcome, Bevier."

The Arcian youth's face scrunched up a bit. "I don't know if I'll ever get that straight," he apologised. Remembering himself, he snapped to attention, his now angular face serious. "You summoned me, my Lord?"

"Yes, Bevier. I have some news that you might find interesting." Abriel motioned for Bevier to sit.

The young novitiate sat down in a nearby seat and folded his hands in his robe as he waited for Abriel to speak.

"I've found out some information about your parents, Bevier," the Cyrinic Preceptor said after a few moments. The other Arcian's eyes lit up. "Evidently, those monks found you with your dead mother. There was a tremendous fire, and only she escaped… with you." He paused. "You are the sole owner of their estate… Bevier, you're a viscount."

The young Arcian didn't know what to say. "A… a… viscount? Me?"

"Yes, Bevier. You."

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Valmai glanced over at Bevier. He was sleeping better, at least. Idly, she wondered what this stranger was dreaming about. Nightflash, who had returned from wherever he had been, lifted his head to look at her.

He fascinates you, doesn't he? he asked softly.

"He's just… so different," she replied. Wrapping her arms about her drawn-up knees, Valmai sighed and closed her eyes. "He claims to be a knight of the church, but…" She shrugged. "He's not at all like the ones I've encountered."

It is a different world, remember? Nightflash reminded her.

"I suppose you're right," she conceded. " I mean, he even seemed to think you shouldn't exist." They both smiled a little.

Birds flew up from the canopy way off in the forest. Nightflash looked in that direction, and Valmai opened her eyes. In the distance, they heard a woman scream.

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A/N: Sorry for the delay… real life got in the way, and then I had the worst writer's block of my life, and I feel like I'm losing my literary touch… it's really depressing… -.-;;; But… I finally finished it. And there's a bit left over in my mind to start another chapter! Yay! No more dark rooms for me! dance dance