Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this world that they are in and I am making no money out of this. I just want to write a sequel to a really good book that I wish had one.

Chapter 14

Herald Pol was packing up camp, it had been a restless night there was a slight feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was from the dubious food the Innkeeper at the Dog Inn had given them, or if it was one of his gifts acting up.

Or maybe it was anxiety he hoped he hadn't been away from the Collegia too long, what if a new Trainee had turned up with a strange gift and was in urgent need of teaching. You see Pol was an unusual case, he had literally every gift, just a trickle mind you, his Mindspeech was his strongest gift.

So if some new Trainee turned up with an uncanny gift, Pol was usually the one the Heralds turned to to train them, like with Lan.

He paused in his task, the camp nearly packed, the thought of Lan still sent a stab of pain through his heart. Lavan had been his Trainee. He was too young, too young to have been sent to war. Even if his sacrifice was enough to send the Karsites running, it still hurt.
He shook his head turning back to his task.

It took another quarter candelmark to pack up camp that morning, Pol had not slept that night, his thoughts going over what he had thought he had felt.
That trace of Lan and a hint of firestarting? He was convinced it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but some, small part of him was also convinced that it was Lan.

His thoughts were spinning around and around and it was slowing him down. He had finished packing his gear and assigned camp supplies, but it took him longer to do it than usual.

:chosen, I do believe that your mind is playing tricks on you, now is not the time to dwell on things.:

Pol sighed as he tied his gear to Satiran's saddle. He then went over to the horse and helped Elenor tie the rest of the gear and equipment to the horses saddle.

They had decided to tie two thirds of the supplies and equipment to the horse and have two people ride Satiran as to equally distribute the weight.

When he was done, he strolled over to Satiran. Mounting he then extended his hand down to his daughter, helping her up. Ilea mounted the horse, and after orienting himself using the still rising sun to get his bearings.

They then continued off on their trek. He judged that they should make it, three quarters of the way to Kettlesmith before sundown.

It was a pleasant spring day, blue, cloudless, sky, birds singing. They even saw a doe and it's fawn galloping through the trees. Pol didn't pay much attention though. By the time the stoped for lunch he was tired and riding was taking most of his concentration.

So he was surprised when, just as they had begun to pack up, and he was putting down his bowl, that a group of eight scruffy men marched into the clearing. Drawing cheap iron swords that were starting to rust.

They wore green tunics, brown trousers and had empty sword sheaths strapped to their waists bu thick leather belts.

He started for his weapons, cursing himself for not strapping on his sword. He knew that they would cut him off before he could get to them, but he had to try. He desperately sent out a mind shout, hoping there was another Herald nearby who could hear him.

Two of the brigands stepped in front of him cutting him off. Just then Satiran came charging into the clearing rearing and prancing. Pol looked about to see Ilea and Elenor had also been captured.

One of the brigands, the leader Pol assumed, stepped up to him brandishing a sword as did all the others who weren't occupied in restraining them.

Sword point resting lightly against Pol's throat, the brigand turned to Satiran.

"Ifin ye wan' yer 'erald ter live, surrender."

After a few moments Satiran returned his flailing hooves to the ground.

"Now there's a good lad."

The leader turned back to Pol. "Now, let's see what valuables yer hav wit' yeh."

"Valuables, Heralds don't carry valuables!"

"At depends on wha ye consider valuable. Swords, knives, pots and pans, medicines. I'd bet a pretty penny that them girls o yours carry medicines, seein as they're Healers."

Pol stood still as the brigands searched through their belongings, stacking what they deemed valuable in a pile off to the side. At last, the leader stoped. The pile was very small.

"Ye ain't got much. Why're ye travelin so light? Any Heralds or Healers returnin from circuit have more an ya."

"We weren't returning from circuit, we were returning from the gravesite of a friend."

The leader threw a disgusted look at Pol, noticing Elenor's defiant glare. He strolled up to her. "Where's the rest?"

"There is no more" she replied. By now his face was growing red with anger. He started to draw back his fist, still striding toward her. Pol struggled, and stoped, there was that feeling again, it was much stronger this time.

Pol looked around just in time to catch a glimpse of someone before a wall of flame leapt up between the brigands and his family. The brigands holding Elenor and Ilea, startled releasing their grips on their captives hands and fled, freeing Pol and his family. Pol turned to Satiran rearing in fright.

He went over to his Companion trying to soothe him, and after a few minutes, the flames died down. Showing two of the brigands running away, four on the ground, and a boy lying face down, passed out.

Lavan strode into the clearing sword at the ready, when he was within ten feet of them one of the brigands turned his way. On instinct, Lavan raised his hand, summoning a wall of flame between his friends and the brigands.

Startled, the others took a hasty step back. Shock clearly showing on Their faces. The leader - the one he assumed was the leader - was one of the fire to turn seeing the boy, holding a sword, with his arm raised. He then did the silly thing and attacked.

The leader stepped in for a clumsy overhead swing with his sword. Lan easily deflected, the reflexes the weapons master had drilled into him taking effect.

He rolled to the side as another of the brigands tried an under hand slash at him, ducking under the blade Lan finished his roll. Coming to his feet, he slashed his opponents leg, igniting the grass under his other leg as he spun to face the other five.

He went for the closest one, feinting an overhand strike to the thug's left flank, Lavan successfully distracted him from the leg he sent sweeping to knock the brigands feet from under him.

Lavan quickly stabbed downward. Leaving the thug to breath his last breath, Lan turned around and saw that the flames he had summoned, had not spread.

Whilst he advanced on the other four, Lan remembered what Kalira had said, "My death allowed me to give you one final gift". Now Lan understood.

Before, Kalira had to control his gift, otherwise it was either off or on at full power. She had fed him the power he had needed, moderating it. Now like other heralds he had full control of his gift. He was in control of how much power was fed into his gift.

He didn't know if he still needed to get angry, he couldn't tell, seeing as he was angry right now.

Letting his reflexes take over, he trusted himself to Odo's training focusing on the battle, he hacked, slashed, blocked and parried. Underhand, overhand, backhand, thrust.

Two brigands were left, including the leader. They turned, trying to flee, but were stopped when walls of flame boxed them blocking them in. As he stepped up he realised how instead of burning them, he had boxed them in.

His newfound control over his firestarting allowed the utter refusal to burn people, witch he had pushed to the back of his mind during the war was instinctually keeping them alive.

The anger inside him simmered, bubbling, he felt like the dragon was sleepy, docile maybe? If he got too angry, he got the feeling the dragon would fully wake, and cause another firestorm.

He then stepped toward the columns of fire, eight feet high. As soon as he stepped toward them, the embers sprouting from him. He fell face first to the ground.

The adrenaline had allowed him to push aside the coma. It was now pulling him back. The edges of his vision grew dark.

The last thing he remembered, before blacking out was dispersing the flames.

Pol couldn't believe his eyes. There he was, the firestarter that Pol had been sensing, he was sure of it. After all the walls of flame had been a pretty big giveaway. After soothing his companion he began to run toward the young man.

He hoped he could help him. He did a very good job with the flames, it looks as though maybe he was… trained?

He was halfway to the boy when he was ripped out of his thoughts as an old woman and what looked to be four goats burst into the clearing. Two of witch appeared to be carrying a sling between them.

So startled was he, that he stopped dead in his tracks, wondering what was going on. He watched motionless as the old woman ran, or rather speed walked over to the boy's side.

As she reached him, Pol recovered from his startlement and resumed his rush forward to help. As he reached them, the old woman had removed his sword and was tuning him over. When Pol saw his face, he froze in shock.

"Lan"? It wasn't possible. It couldn't be!
No, he was dead, he had to be, Pol had seen the firestorm through Satiran's eyes.

He had been to the area, nothing could have survived. Yet there he was. Lavan was alive and passed out in front of him. His gift was brought into being to protect Lan from the Sixth Formers, maybe it protected him from the flames? No, there wasn't time to wast in idle thoughts. The woman was giving him an odd look, witch he ignored.

Turning to Elenor and Ilea, he beckoned them over. Satiran was standing stock still, obviously as startled as his chosen.

As Elenor and Ilea came over, as Elenor Shaw him, she stoped and gasped, frozen in her tracks.

Ilea, however, with far more experience under her belt, merely paused for a second, an expression of surprise on her face before she quickly hid it.

Continuing forward, she approached Lavan and the old lady. Kneeling down beside them, she held her hands over Lavan and closed her eyes.

After about a minute, she opened them again. Turning her head to face Pol she said "there are no injuries other than a few scrapes and bruises that I can find-"

"There ain't any" the old lady spoke up "I made sure o that meself, no, the trouble be in 'is head. Tis some weird kind o coma that keeps dragin' im back down; yer kin?"

Pol turned to her, "and you are"?

"Folks call me Tanea. I'm the one ooh found 'im after that big ol' blaze o fire".

:Big ol' blaze o fire, could she mean the firestorm at the battle of the burning pines?:

:It's certainly possible chosen, goats are far better at climbing than horses:.

Whilst Pol was conversing with Satiran, Elenor, now out of her state of shock, strode up and began her own examination of Lavan.

"She's right, this coma, it looks like it's hiding him, it's as if he were brain dead. Only a trace indicating that he is there at all. I wonder what could've caused thi-"

"Was there a white horse with him?" Pol interrupted, directing his question to Tanea. If Lan had survived, maybe Kalira had too?

"Nay, he was the only one in sight" Tanea answered, looking confused.

"That, would explain it. Loosing a Companion bond can, drive you insane. But loosing a Companion bond and a life bond at the same time. That's probably what created this coma."

"It would also explain why the Death Bell tang" Ilea spoke up "him being so deep in his coma that is"

"Hold it" Tanea interrupted "yer tryin' te tell me, that ees an 'erald?"

"Yes" Pol said. "He was my trainee, we thought he had died in the firestorm, the 'big ol' blaze o fire'. We were just returning to Haven after his funeral."

"Oh, so yer be his kin?"

"No his, family, went on ahed." Turning to Elenor, he inquired "could you heal him? Being a mind Healer?"

Elenor took a moment to think about it before answering. "No, I've never even heard of a coma like this. It would be best to be in Healers collegium with a team of mind Healers, in case anything goes wrong."

"Ifin' ye can take im the rest o the way, I'll be takin' me leave now."

As she turned to go, Ilea suddenly spoke up. "Are you shielding?" Tanea stoped, confusion on her face "shieldin'?"

"The barrier in your mind."

A look of understanding came over Tanea "oh eye that, the boy showed me that 'e did. 'Elps keep the voices an feelin's out of me 'ead."

It was then that Pol understood, Tanea had Mindspeech and empathy. Ilea spoke up again. "You could come with us, what you are using will eventually fall apart."

At Tanea's confused expression she continued. "The mind wall has no ground to rest on and will eventually crumble."

At this the look of confusion ganged into one of concern.

"I have what you have, with the emotions. And my husband Pol over there has it with the voices. We could teach you."

After what seemed like an eternity, Tanea replied.

"I guess me goats could carry the boy a wee bit longer."

A/N: IMPORTANT INFO HERE PLEASE READ.

I am sorry I am late with these chapters, I suck when it comes to people sot it took a really long tim to figure out Pol, Ilea and Elenor's reactions to Lan being alive and I couldn't post chapter 13 without 14, so again I apologise.

I will always come back to a story I am doing and, if it is taking more than a couple of months I will post a chapter telling you that I am running late/have writers block and will replace it with the chapter when completed.

And If I am abandoning the story I will post an extra chapter informing you of that as well. And if someone approaches me and I think they ate up to the task of adopting the abandoned story, I will add a chapter with their username so you can continue to read it there.

P.S.

I just read the some amazing books, if anyone is
interested they are: Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, and The Last Command, AKA the Thrawn trilogy.

They take place five years after RotJ and are part of the original SW cannon. I can say I, personally prefer this sequel trilogy over Disney's sequel trilogy.