Wow! It's been over a year! I totally didn't realize it! This chapter has some angst in it, but is something Morna and Marek needed to do. Is it me, or does Alberich kinda remind you of Yoda? "Become a Jedi Master, you will." Sorry. Being irreverent is fun.

Standard disclaimer. The "poetry" flirtation between Kero and Eldan is actually a paraphrasing from By the Sword. You all will recognize it. Rated for extracurriculars!

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Chapter 5

"You are a truly horrible person, Jeri."

"Don't blame me; blame the ladies at Court who construct these fashions."

Morna regarded the impossible shoes Jeri had presented her with, and frowned. The shoes were not just shoes, she was convinced. They were specially concocted torture devices made to ruin the feet and legs of women everywhere. The impossibly high heels would throw off her balance so much that she would need special training to be able to fight in them. Not to mention how much sheer agony standing for long periods of time would be.

"How am I supposed to walk in those?"

"Very carefully."

"Ha. Ha."

Marek grinned from where he was lounging against some pillows in Jeri's tent. "Look at it this way, love. You only need to wear them long enough to come into range of Ancar. After that, you can conveniently lose them."

Jeri frowned. The Herald had been aging in the last few years, under the influence of the harsh Plains' weather and the stress of training Morna to be a lady and not having a kingdom to call home. Her brown curls were piled on top of her head in a loose fashion that had somehow managed to resist coming down during Morna's latest bout with her, this one with Morna done up in full court gear. Now the gear had been pulled off in favor of the heat, and Morna was sitting in the middle of the tent, clad only in a comfortable linen shift. Jeri was seated across from her, dressed in vibrant colors that managed to compliment her sun-bronzed complexion.

"At the cost of these shoes, make sure you keep them. We can probably sell them and replenish the Treasury without ever having the people pay any taxes."

Morna winced at the gentle rebuke. "I apologize, Jeri. I should concentrate on the task."

Jeri frowned even harder. "Morna, there is more to you than your Gift. It is expected of a young person's mind to wander occasionally."

"Alberich says that all the time, only backwards."

"Heard that, I did, youngling." Alberich paused in front of the tent, observing them through the open panels. "Pay during training, you will." Then he continued on, as if nothing had ever happened. Marek chuckled wickedly.

"Should I warm up the oil for you tonight?"

Morna nodded glumly. "I will need it."

"Morna." Jeri's voice stopped her as she reached for the shoes. The hesitancy in Jeri's voice surprised her. "Have you thought about the fact that we don't really know what your range is? For all we know we only have to get you within a few leagues of Ancar."

"You know there is no way for me to be that accurate, Jeri. My Gift cannot be trained without causing death. What do you want me to practice on? I still remember that army. I won't have any other souls cavorting around mine unless I have to, whether they are human or animal. I'll risk it."

"How do you feel about this, Marek?"

He tugged on one chunky braid thoughtfully, his startling blue eyes hooded. "I cannot say I like the idea of Morna coming so close to this man. However, it is her destiny, just as it is mine to be with her. Being there with her will make it easier on me. That does not mean that I am not anxious to have this over with. I want to have a life with Morna. A real life."

Jeri nodded thoughtfully and gazed into the distance. Abruptly, she pulled her gaze back to them. "These shoes can wait until tomorrow. Go romp or whatever it is you two do."

Marek grinned cheekily. "Really, Jeri. You should know exactly what—"

"We'll see you in a bit, Jeri," Morna hastily interrupted, quickly shedding the shift, pulling on her breeches and expertly pulling the lacings tight on her corselet. A quick knot secured the lacings while she spoke. "I need to distract this crazy person before he does something he'll regret."

Rising to her feet, she grabbed her boots and weapons harness with one hand and tugged Marek from the tent by his hair with her other hand. Jeri's chuckle followed them as Morna stretched her legs into a sprint and bolted from camp, Marek close behind.

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"How do you really feel about all of this?"

"Mmm?"

Marek turned his head from his contemplation of the clouds so he could see Morna where she rested with her head on his stomach, her body perpendicular to his. Ceridwyn wandered in the tall grass around them, grazing contentedly. His fingers toyed with Morna's hair, watching as the curls embraced his finger. Morna was only semi-awake, drowsing occasionally in the soothing warmth of the sun as it neared sunset.

"How do you really feel about all of this?" Her voice was drowsy and her eyes were closed.

"It is not my place to have an opinion on it. It is our destiny."

Morna's eyes opened to meet his, then her lids lowered into a potent stare.

"If that isn't the biggest crock I've ever heard, I don't know what is."

He heaved a sigh, putting a crick on her neck for a moment, and turned his now angry gaze back to the clouds. "What do you want me to say, Morna? That I am mad? That I am scared? I am. What I feel, however, has no impact on what will happen. You will still go there and confront this man that I would give anything to kill for you."

Morna rolled over and crawled on her elbows in the crushed grass until her head was even with his. She gently turned his face to hers, cupping his cheek with her left hand and tracing the lines of his face with her right.

"I would give anything," she whispered, "to stay here. But I can't. Every assassin they have sent has not come back. I am the only person who has any chance of making this happen."

"We don't know that. By the Bright Lady, we don't even know if you can pick and choose who dies with your Gift. You have had no training beyond the very basics."

"The woods—"

"The woods was a fluke. For all we know, Vanyel kept your Gift from hurting the Heralds. This plan that the Heralds have been working on so hard, has a poor chance at best of working. I cannot fix this feeling I have inside of me. I am angry that they are committing you to death when I have had so very little time with you. I am angry that you have had no childhood, that you were the one the gods chose, that you train every day for one moment in your life. Tell me, is there one thing you do for no other reason than enjoyment?" Morna did not try to answer. He knew the answer. "Other than Ceridwyn and me, do you have any friends? Your life has been dedicated to this one mission, and as I am eternally linked with you, my life has been dedicated also."

"You don't have to-"

"Hush. I have not regretted one moment I have spent with you." Now he cupped her face with his hands. "I love you, Morna, more than life itself, and I am terrified that soon our time together will be over. When I look at you, I see you are so calm, so accepting, and the anger boils up again." Marek released her face and pushed himself to his feet. He scooped up his tunic and a quick tug settled it back over his head and into place before he turned his back on her and began walking away.

"Marek." Her voice was tight and she sat up now, her heart in her throat. "Why are you walking away?"

"I cannot be here, with you, right now. You asked me how I felt, and I told you. Now I must go battle with these demons." Morna started to rise and froze at the quick shake of his head. "Do not follow me." With that, he moved forward and the tall grass swallowed him.

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:Enough.:

"Mmm?"

:You have been sitting there pitying yourself for the last mark.: Ceridwyn tossed her white mane. :Get on. It's time we went back to camp.:

"I don't pity myself," Morna muttered as she clambered onto Ceri's back.

:Oh. I'm sorry. I must have mistaken that look on your face. You must be ecstatic.:

"Stop being mean."

:If I were being mean, you would be walking back to camp.:

"I don't understand it."

:Understand what. And Mindspeak me. You need the practice.:

:Why is he mad that I am "so calm, so accepting" of all of this. What am I supposed to do? Crying won't help.:

:Are you calm and accepting.:

:Of course I-: Morna broke off.

:Right. Marek is angry for you and he is angry that you do not appear to feel any anger about the situation.:

:How does my apparent lack of feeling affect his in any way:

:He is a man, Chosen. Even more, he is a warrior. Marek has been trained to protect you, but he has nothing to protect you against. The major menace in your life can supposedly only be destroyed by you. His role in your life has been to stand behind you and look menacing. That is hardly fulfilling.:

:Are you saying I should let him see everything I am feeling? I can't burden him that way:

:Would you really be burdening him? Or would you be finally letting him step up to his role in your life? Think, Chosen.:

They lapsed into silence as Ceri walked into the camp.

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"I used to write poetry." Eldan's voice barely projected over the crackling of the fire Morna shared with him, Kerowyn, Alberich and Myste. Kero's gaze rose from the gem she was carving to regard him balefully. "I stopped."

"Good." Kero made a show of putting the gem back in her box of equipment and began cleaning her fingernails with a sharp little knife. "Otherwise I would be forced to hunt you down and eat you."

"Where is Marek?" Myste's quite voice distracted Morna from the truly odd, yet fitting, flirtation Kero and Eldan were having. She shrugged in reply and went back to watching the odd couple, hoping to learn something. It had occurred to her that she had never flirted with Marek. She had woken up that first morning with the Clan and Marek had been in her pile of blankets with her. From that day forward, he had always been with her. There was no lack of passion in their relationship. Their nocturnal activities had evolved beyond sleeping two years ago. However, they had never flirted, and rarely played or just enjoyed each other. Their lives revolved around her mission.

"Did you two fight?"

"What were we like, when we were little?"

Myste seemed taken aback by Morna's question. "You and Marek?" Morna nodded. "Inseparable. Marek was your bodyguard from the start. If you cried, he was there to fix it. You never fought with a trainee, because he did it for you. You two learned together, lived together. If there was something he could do to make your life easier, he did it, and you were dependent on him." Myste snorted softly. "I remember, Alberich and I were worried we would have to separate the two of you so that would learn a few life skills. He was even doing your chores. Then, it was like you woke up one day. You refused to let him do your chores or help you with anything. It was quite a shock for him."

Morna nodded, staring into the fire. Then she rose. "I am going to bed. Good night."

Myste nodded, worried, and traded glances with Alberich as Morna wandered into the night.

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The sounds of revelry drew her to a fire just within the camp's outer guard perimeter. Morna knew that was where Marek would be. His friends gathered most nights around of a fire of their own, where they laughed, flirted with the girls who wandered over and told exaggerated tales. Most nights, Marek stayed with her, telling her he did not mind forsaking the entertainment of his friends for time with her. Some nights, he would tell her he was going to go see his friends, and would stand there and watch her until she told him to go. Now she recognized those nights as nights when he needed her to ask him to stay.

He did not see her at first, when she entered the circle of firelight, and she took the opportunity to study him. Marek was quite the male specimen. Myste had once commented that he was built along the lines of a boulder with an attitude problem, and Morna could not agree more. He was a direct contrast to her long slim build. Now, however, his ebullient personality seemed diminished. He drank ale and stared moodily into the fire, bristling and growling at his friends, who were exerting a large amount of energy to cheer him up. Another step into the firelight brought silence. Marek's friends regarded her with hostility, their gazes were cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing the long sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

"I thought I told you to not follow me." Marek's voice was quiet, dark. His back was to her and he never turned around.

Morna swallowed hard, pushing the hurt down. "I didn't. I went back to the camp and…" her voice trailed off.

"Leave, Morna."

"Marek…"

"I said-"

"I'm terrified." She blurted it out and her hands clenched around her elbows, hugging herself tightly. His friends faded into the background, not a part of her reality at the moment, and his shoulders stiffened and he finally turned around to face her. Marek's face was a cold mask.

"What?"

She forced herself to swallow again and felt tears rise, unbidden. Looking away from his cold, unfamiliar eyes she focused on a rock in the distance, silhouetted against the star-crowded sky. "Before. You said you looked at me and saw me as calm and accepting. I'm not. I'm terrified." The tears spilled over and the stars blurred. She never saw him rise or saw his face lose the cold mask, never saw his pain or his relief or his love. The sobs rose up in her and jerked her body and she pulled her elbows in tighter, hunching. "I am so scared that there are nights that I don't sleep. I just lay there and hope you don't notice, and hope at the same time that you would and wake up and just hold on to me. I didn't want you to know." He was there in front of her, wiping her tears with hands that were heartbreakingly gentle. "I didn't want you to know," she repeated in a hoarse whisper, focusing on him, "because you had given up everything for me. I love you. I didn't want to put this on you, too."

Marek pulled her head down until their foreheads were touching, and she wrapped one hand around one of his thick wrists. Her breathing was rough, jerking her body as he stared into her dark eyes. "Ke'a'char," he whispered. "I have given up nothing, and gained everything. Your fear is no burden to me, but a gift." Her sobs were easing and Morna was able to give him a look that clearly doubted his sanity. He smiled. "In giving me your fear, you give me your trust." Morna felt her heart begin to unclench, felt his words soothe her very soul, and released a long breath, closing her eyes. She felt him place gentle kisses on her eyelids, then he gathered her into his arms and lifted her from her feet. She did not care where he was taking her and let her head loll on his shoulder. When he laid her down, she opened her eyes to the cool darkness and saw they were where they had fought. With slow, deliberate movements, Marek pulled her sweater over head, murmuring in Shin'a'in, and, as the stars whirled overhead, he showed her what her gift meant to him.