Realms

by Jeffrey Vasquez

A simple mistake in heaven, and three rather important young people are ripped from their proper places in time and space, to end up… Well, God knows, but he isn't saying! Adventure Ah! Megamisama Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon Ranma crossover.

6. Chapter 6

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Disclaimer:

All characters and settings are used here without permission.

"Aah! Megami-sama" (or "Oh My Goddess!") was created by Fujishima

Kosuke, and is licensed to Kodansha and AnimEigo.

"Ranma 1/2" was created by Takahashi Rumiko, and is licensed to

Shogakukan Inc., Kitty, Fuji TV, and Viz Communications Inc.

"Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon" (or "Sailor Moon") was created by Takeuchi Naoko, and is licensed to Koudansha, TV Asahi, Toei Douga, and DIC Entertainment, L.P.

"Forgotten Realms" was created by TSR. Inc. and is owned by Wizards of the Coast.

All original characters, places, and other creative wonders belong to me. Please drop me a line if you want to use them.

Foreword:

Your patience is greatly appreciated. I don't know if any of you are actually interested in what's going on in the background, but for what it's worth here's a brief rundown of why this chapter has taken so long.

As is the case with many Fic authors, life has a rude tendency of invading the creation of fantasy. The status of my writing has been a bit on the erratic side, but not forsaken by any means. There have been so many things happening lately, that it's been hard to keep up. One of the greatest events has been the formation of Brier Row Studios – an online publishing house for new talent. I've decided to go pro and hopefully inspire some of my friends in the Fanfic community to do the same. My first project is in the works right now, and hopefully will see the light of day sometime next year.

As for Progeny, Realms, and Splitting Heirs each of the current chapters have suffered through a number of re-writes and numerous not-so-cosmetic changes. The end result will hopefully be something pivotal and entertaining for you the readers. I am attempting to organize things so that I can get you all something on a more regular basis. The current delay is just too much, even for me. At any rate, I thank you again for sticking with me!

As always, C&C is appreciated. Flames are generally mocked with great relish. Here's hoping that you enjoy!

Jeffrey

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Realms

Chapter Six

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He didn't know where he was in the confines of the black cube, but the void he found himself drifting in felt very familiar. It wasn't a comforting familiarity, but rather something more…well it was like an annoying sense of déjà vu; a memorable sensation that he couldn't actively place. The impression was preferable to the off kilter sense he'd been feeling before. This whole situation had buried the needle on his Weird-o-Meter's rather jaded scale.

In all the years since the damned Neko-ken training, he'd never held it together when the cat was set free…not that he could remember any way. There was always the detached sensation of being…elsewhere, but he'd never been able to remember exactly where. Now though, he was here and he was fully aware. He wasn't totally certain as to why things were different this time around, but he had at least an inkling of the reason. It had taken him what seemed forever to come to the realization, but now that he'd uncovered the tidbit of truth, things were starting to fall into place and he wondered how he could have ever missed it.

He knew this place to be a prison. This was where he held the Neko-ken or, at the very least, the memories of the Neko-ken. As it stood, he could still feel the ghostly wisps of the fear and pain lingering at the edge of his awareness, and he understood the power of the technique a little better. In a way it was very Zen – escaping to that perfect moment while embracing the freedom associated with an indomitable part of his soul, to become the Action rather than acting. It was, after a fashion, a step along the road to enlightenment – not to mention controlling the damn technique.

The fear was just the catalyst to reach this normally inaccessible well of power.

So many supposedly wasted hours, in innumerable shrines and temples across the orient, had finally come into sharp focus. He understood the theories that so many of his teachers had been trying to get him to understand…small jigsaw pieces that were finally making a picture – all due to that one missing piece finally finding its place among the rest. Havara-Sensei would be dancing around the shrine if he could have been with Ranma at the moment of epiphany.

The young martial artist laughed at the image of the severe and stoic man hiking his robes around his knees and doing a jig in the middle of the shrine-proper.

The effect this had on the utter darkness of the surroundings was drastic. The dreariness lightened from pitch black to a dark gray, and Ranma could see a number of other objects floating in the void with him. They were indistinct blobs, bobbing along in the murky haze, seemingly unaware of his presence. He counted three, but the gloomy fog couldn't hide the impression that more were drifting in the darkness with him.

He needed more light and after a moment of considering the effect his laughter had had on the gloom, he was certain that he could eventually disperse the void altogether. He tried laughing again, but it was forced and there was no true humor in it. He tried yelling at it, but his voice only echoed back at him. He tried commanding the darkness away, but in the end it remained inert.

There was no telling how long he experimented. It could have been minutes, hours, or days for all he knew. There was no way to measure time in this place. His failures began to slowly take their toll, and his mood began to become more frustrated. With this depression and despair the darkness began to creep in again, obscuring all but one of the floating blobs in the distance. His irritation had reached the point of exasperation, and the void around him seemed to roil with an agitation that mirrored his mood. This should have been a clue for the young man, but his curiosity had shifted entirely to the floating blob not too far off.

Ranma's attention span had never been all that great outside of the martial arts, so he missed more than a few subtle clues that might have helped him escape his supernatural prison, as he tried to discern the nature of the floating shadow. Without realizing his actions, the fog around the object began to thin, revealing a small, female form curled into a tight ball.

Concern and uncertainty immediately overshadowed any other emotion in Ranma's heart. He didn't know who this girl was or how she had come to be here in this place. He vaguely remembered the presence of two women when he had been outside the dark cube. They had been fighting over something, but this girl's slim form and delicate features looked nothing like the images in his mind's eye. She didn't feel anything like the impressions he had of the other two either. He squinted trying to discern more about the figure from afar, and then something very odd happened.

One moment he was a solid thirty meters away from the young woman, and the next he was right beside her. It didn't really shock him as much as he thought it should have though. This whole place seemed more like some whacked out dream than a real place, and so weird things were bound to make more sense than they normally would – yet another significant clue that the young man allowed to slip past him.

As he drifted near the form of the young woman, Ranma was amazed at the fragile beauty before him. In all his short life, he had seen a number of beautiful women – many of them during his travels, but this exotic young woman was something else entirely. Her creamy white skin and bluish white hair wasn't so extraordinary. What really struck him were the woman's pointy ears, chiseled features, and slanted eyes that made her seem otherworldly. With all the obvious clues, he wondered if this woman was an elf…or at the very least, of elven descent. He'd seen enough manga and anime to recognize the archetype. The question of her race wasn't what bothered him though. The fact that she was here, in this place…that was cause for worry as far as Ranma was concerned. Why was she here and how in the world did she get here?

Upon first examination there seemed to be no visible contusions or broken bones, so Ranma was certain that the woman hadn't undergone any physical damage. In fact, now that he was close to her, he could tell that she wasn't in any real distress at all. She looked to be sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by his presence or proximity.

Ranma was uncertain if he should wake her or not. Drifting alone in this weird place however, was not something that he found enjoyable. So, with great care and trepidation he reached out to gently nudge her. As his fingers touched her arm, his vision was filled with a sudden, blinding light that left him seeing spots. He felt an unfamiliar tingling coursing up and down his body, and a flood of memories not his own began flashing through his mind's eye.

Seven hundred and sixty three years worth of experience and knowledge violently lodged itself into Ranma's mind. So too did the image and personality of Eilendindril Fuenin, one of the select few that had the honor and privilege to give her life in order to lay the magical foundation of the Mythal that would protect the city of Myth Drannor.

Ranma, awash as he was in the life of this elf woman, could only drift through the ever-lightening grey void that had once housed his greatest fears. Time blurred further as he relived the life of the she-elf. He didn't even realize that he had come upon a second floating body, this one a male half-elf named Rhistel Amlathudra. Two hundred and thirty years of love and peaceful exploration beneath the trees of Cormanthor, blended with Eilendindril's life…merging to become something else entirely. Memories meshed, personalities fused, and were then absorbed into Ranma's spirit.

And thus it went, from floating soul to floating soul. The knowledge, ambitions, and fears of hundreds were all unwittingly consumed; male and female, child and elder, all walks of life were represented. The spirits of the ancient elven homeland settled upon him, bound to his soul by the magic of the great Mythal of Myth Drannor. He didn't truly understand what the Mythal was beyond the fact that it protected the people housed within it. He couldn't comprehend how he had come to become tied to it either. In the end, all he knew was that it was a part of him now and with it came a number of souls that had made it's protective magic possible. And as he touched each of these floating bodies, drifting in the ether with him, a new set of experiences was experienced and the young man that was Ranma Saotome became something more than he had been. It would take eons for his mind to openly access and accept all the things he was taking into himself, let alone make use of the knowledge and wisdom he had suddenly gained.

Until then, the spirits and souls of the elves would rest here, in this peaceful sea of darkness. He would remain Ranma Saotome, dream of past lives, and occasionally do something rather odd and unnatural…even for him.

As the young martial artist drifted through the void of his subconscious, he came upon a magnificent monument that dwarfed the skyscrapers of Tokyo and Hong Kong by an incredible amount. The mountainous plinth was divided into two colors – a luminescent white marble that seemed to glow with a silvery blue light, and a matte black onyx that seemed to suck the growing light from the void around him. Eight bright stars circled the light side, dancing in a smooth pattern, while gouts of purple fire erupted in violent arcs from the dark side. Large chunks of broken marble and onyx ringed the mammoth obelisk, orbiting the object like a small asteroid belt. A pair of different colored stones would collide every once in a while, resulting in a massive explosion that fragmented the surrounding debris even further.

Ranma, lost as he was in the memories of others, was only vaguely aware of his approach to the baseless spire. It wasn't until he impacted with and absorbed a small chunk of marble, that the young martial artist became fully aware of his situation. Power and a deluge of knowledge unlike anything he had yet experienced coursed through his mind shaking him free of the stupor he had been in. It was too much for his mortal mind to handle and Ranma felt like he was going to explode. More of the small debris hit him, adding to the strain. He fought desperately to maintain a hold on his identity as thousands of concepts bludgeoned his ego.

Throughout the battle of will, he continued to drift closer and closer to the massive stele. The nearer he came to the massive edifice, the larger it became – growing from the size of a large skyscraper, to the size of a small mountain, and on to the size of a large mountain range.

It continued to grow, causing his eyes to bug in alarm in spite of the battle he was waging within himself. As he coasted near a planet sized chunk of black onyx he struggled hysterically, narrowly avoiding a collision. And still the obelisk grew – dwarfing him and everything around him. He knew there was no escaping the imminent impact with the edifice.

There was no way that he could avoid the damn thing!

Worse still he felt something actively starting to pull on him…no, it was two something's. He could feel their individual pulls – one from each end of the plinth. Their draw, for the most part, was equal in power, but he felt himself listing more towards the white marble, if only barely.

His speed increased drastically as he continued to streak towards the monument, gaining more and more momentum the closer he came to the object. He struck more of the small asteroids and was forced to exert all his will on just remaining Ranma amidst the deluge of memories, ideals, and information. He repeated his name like a mantra and worked through the Shuyo na Ippo – the first steps, clinging desperately to the foundation that the Art had become for his life and his identity. The Shuyo na Ippo was the first kata his father had ever taught him, and at the moment it was his only anchor to his personality. When he finally passed through the field of floating stones, Ranma had moved onto the second and third katas; repeating everything he had learned from them and reminding himself of everything that made him who he was. He relived every memory he could dredge up, good and bad, drowning out the excess as best he could.

The structure grew in size filling his vision to the point of excluding all else. In the back of his conscious mind, Ranma knew that if he were to come into contact with the obelisk he would absorb whatever knowledge, power, or memories the thing held. There was little hope that he would retain his identity should that happen. Yet he could find no way to escape the magnetic pull that drew him towards the object.

He growled and struggled against the inevitable, but with each passing moment he became more and more filled with panic at the thought of touching the thing. All around him, the void reflected his fear and frustration in the form of a mighty tempest. Winds blew, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. Many of the small asteroids were driven together, setting off a blistering chain reaction of explosions behind Ranma. Stones pelted him, sending more distracting tidbits of archaic knowledge through his mind.

"I'm Ranma Saotome." He growled. "Heir to the Saotome Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu. I like food. I like dogs and the colors white, blue, green and red. I'm seventeen years old. I like Helmthorn Berry wine and Kasumi's Sukiyaki. I like…I like to dance the Sebra beneath the stars during Shieldmeet and…and…." The list continued, in spite of the growing speed at which he was now traveling, with only a few unusual additions sporadically added here and there. He knew that he'd never experienced some of the things he had mentioned, but he continued trying to anchor his identity any way. The alternative, in light of his current predicament was unacceptable. The wind swept passed his ears, making his skin feel like it was going to be torn off. He screamed into the maelstrom, raging against the pain

"I'm Ranma Saotome! Goddess of Magic and Loss!"

Something wasn't right about that, but he didn't stop to think about it.

"I live in the Gylonaglym, born of House Llundlar, and the heir of Dweomorheart." He knew that wasn't right. He closed his eyes and madly searched his mind for something, anything that he knew to be familiar. The problem was, he couldn't discern anything specific. The thought of Nerima brought to mind a number apartment buildings built in the boughs of a great tree. The thought of the Tendo home brought to mind a giant castle, floating on a sea of clouds, bound together by eldritch spells and populated with all manner of shadowy creatures.

Desperation seized him and he tried frantically to remember the faces of people he knew. Though, when he did visualize these people, he knew that the images were wrong. His mother and father had never looked that happy standing side by side. Besides, there was no way in Hell that his Pops had ever been that skinny! And since when had his Mom ever been an elf? Kasumi, like-wise, didn't seem to match the picture in his mind. The idea that she would have wings and was surrounded by a nimbus of pure white light, while it fit, didn't make an ounce of sense. How in the world could she cook and clean without those massive wings getting in the way?

Likewise, since when did Nabiki have shadowy skin and that evil little smirk? Sure she was opportunistic, but he'd never tagged her as evil before. More images and faces drifted in and out of his mind's eye, chaotically jumbled with half remembered identities and personalities. While thus distracted, he didn't realize that directly in front of him, sandwiched between the two opposing colors, was an area of overlapping grey that was growing dangerously close.

By the time he finally came out of his funk, the smooth, hoary ground was rushing closer and closer. There was no time to divert his course even if he had the power to do so. Terror, unlike anything he had ever felt filled him.

"I'M RANMA SAOTOME, DAMMIT!" He roared, just as he came in contact with the obelisk.

There was no explosion, no sense of pain or discomfort. In fact, Ranma was surprised that he was standing in one piece, and his mind was beginning to clear. Memories of family and friends began to sort themselves out and realign with what felt right. Shampoo was no longer a sultry elf maid from House Tymdraskylur. Ryouga was no longer an upstart priest of Cyric intent on killing him. Akane's face brought images of foul cooking and sweet smiles, rather than a sense of loss and a need for vengeance.

The young martial artist found himself, weakly sitting down smack dab in the middle of the overlapping gray area between the two types of stone. Relief washed over him as he began to remember who he was and what had happened. For the first time in his life he knew a moment of true clarity and peace as he looked out over the immense strip of gray granite. It seemed to go on for as far as the eye could see, stretching infinitely into the distance on all sides of his vision. He sat, relishing the feeling of finally finding his center and of knowing, without a doubt what made him…him.

After a time he finally stood, secure in himself once again, and examined the area around him. The rough granite surface was speckled with black and silver minerals that sparkled in the light of the now quiet sky above him. The storm that had once raged unchecked was gone and a comforting half-light lit the sky. An infinite number of stars dotted the void now, and Ranma found contentment in just staring up at them. More time passed before he rolled his head side to side, more out of habit than any real need for relief.

"What now, Saotome?" He mumbled, looking out over the endless expanse. He could already feel the boredom tickling the edges of his mind.

Sighing to himself, he scratched the back of his head.

He knew that the white marble area had been on his right when had been falling. Maybe, since he'd landed without absorbing anything, he could safely go exploring. He had little hope of finding anything constructive, but it was something to do. He had taken only one step forward, moving in what he thought was the direction of the marble half of the plinth, when an explosion of purple fire erupted from beneath his feet.

"GYAH!" Ranma jumped in reflex, launching himself high into the air. His pant legs were aflame with dark fire. Surprisingly there was no heat or pain associated with the eldritch blaze. The sensation that he did get from the flames, left him puzzled.

Who in their right mind would feel such a desperate, grasping jealousy from a bonfire? Then again, no one had ever mistaken Ranma for being in his right mind. It was just crazy that a fire would feel scared that he would walk away from it…. He was reminded of Kodachi immediately and shivered at the all-consuming need that the girl represented. He landed and slowly stepped back to his starting point, watching as the flames began to die down. They didn't leave him completely, but the overwhelming anxiety that had gripped him from the flames was subdued.

Shrugging his shoulders, he looked behind him, in the direction of the onyx half and made as if he were going to take a step along that path. Even quicker than the purple flames had sprung up, a silvery blaze circled him and barred his course. Rather than the jealousy he had been expecting, all he felt from the flames was an intense concern for his well-being and an overwhelming sense of love. Dark images began drifting to the surface of his mind, each showing a life more horrible than the last. The silver flames began to move towards him forcing him back a step.

He felt more than recognized the idea that he was at a crossroads - two opposing sides pulling his strings in different directions. It was all very common territory for the martial artist and it sparked a memory of something that had happened before entering the great black cube. There had been two crazy chicks fighting over him, trying to claim him for their own. The whole image made him growl. Why couldn't people just leave well enough alone? Why wouldn't they let him be for once? Ranma closed his eyes and tried to reclaim the peace he had been enjoying but the flames, and all the associated emotions that went with them, persisted.

"Fine." He declared stubbornly. "You want me ta choose? Well, I choose this." Ranma spun in place until he had dislodged the purple flames. He positioned himself directly between the two small fires, the silver on his right and the purple on his left, and then he began to walk.

"Confucius always said ta follow the Middle Path, so I'm gonna follow the Middle Path. You want me, then ya gotta come ta me." He began walking dead center between the two opposing pulls, ignoring the way that both flames seemed to flare angrily. The moment that he began walking a thunderous noise shook the area and the plinth shattered beneath his feet. Colors mixed, shifted spectrum, and literally battled each other. Ranma however walked on, uncaring. The conflict lasted for a long while, with neither side gaining the upper hand; and still Ranma walked onward. He wasn't exactly certain when it drew to a close, but at the end of it all, there was no black, white, or gray. The plinth was gone, save for the path that he walked, and the gray slowly darkened to a deep indigo.

Ranma ignored the changes, intent on walking forward until he finally came to a giant wall of dark blue crystal, glittering and glowing with billions of tiny lights. It rose upward, dwarfing him the closer he came, but unlike the plinth the wall did not fill him with a sense of terror or loss. This was a haven for the pig-tailed boy, a place of safety where he was in control. Ranma took two steps forward and cautiously reached out to touch the barrier. After all that he'd experienced here, discretion was a sign of wisdom – and Ranma learned from most of his mistakes. The instant his fingertips brushed the surface an infinite ocean of power rushed into him.

He panicked, fully expecting to have his identity washed away, like he had been experiencing before. To his surprise the exact opposite took place. He felt centered again, and for the first time in his life…truly in control. Large towers began forming all along the wall, and behind it a massive castle, quite a bit larger than the Imperial Palace, rose from the mists of the void. A grand gate opened in the wall, allowing him entry into the main courtyard of the fortress. He stepped through the gate and a feeling of security washed over him giving him the sensation that, for the first time in his life, he was truly coming home.

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Mystra looked up sharply from her receipts as she sat before Kihon'i. Shar turned her head frantically with a growing look of dread, to look at something very, very far away. Something intangible had just gone out of them, leaving both goddesses feeling emptier than they had been a moment before. It was but a miniscule amount of their power as such things were measured, but even this lessoning of their influence was disconcerting.

Neither goddess looked at each other, or their hostess for that matter. They simply gated from the beach where Elminster's tower now stood, without so much as a goodbye or "by-your-leave" to Kihon'i. Had either of them taken a moment to politely excuse themselves, they would have fared so much the better in the long run. The resulting vacuum, left by their swift passing upset the oversized umbrella and the table where the audit had been taking place. This in turn upset the large glass of iced tea Kihon'i had been drinking, dumping it into her lap. In their defense, both their spirits had been tainted by a very chaotic mortal, which was why Kihon'i wasn't slapping both with all manner of nasty injunctions and severe penalties. Instead, the copper skinned goddess simply took out a cellular phone and pushed a button that began dialing a very, very long telephone number. She waited patiently for the other end of the line to pick up, wiping the excess ice and tea from her lap, while tapping her golden pencil on the edge of what was left of the glass table she had been sitting behind.

"IT IS I."

The trouble with contacting a truly "Elder" deity lay in communication. The idea that there is a God of gods isn't a new one, but the whole Eternal Round thing can be confusing, even for an entity such as Kihon'i. So whenever she had to deal with the BIG bosses, she always found that they tended to use small, yet very explicit sentences. At first it was patronizing, but the more she thought about it…well, it made sense. She was still a toddler in the eternal scheme of things, while beings like Lord Ao were something akin to the great-great-great-grandparents of the multiverse.

"I thank you for your attention, Lord Ao. Protocol demands that I call and report." The procedure wasn't so much for Ao's benefit, as it was for hers. He obviously already knew what had happened and in turn laid out the plan to deal with the situation long before he had enlisted her services. The call was more a matter of common courtesy and an opportunity to learn, than anything else.

"DISCIPLINE THEM."

"Do I have your official endorsement, or will this be a Departmental reprimand?" In response to her query, a tablet of black stone, streaked with ivory and jade, materialized before her. With a wave of her hand the tablet shrunk to the size of a young child's hand and affixed itself over the goddess' heart.

"YOU ARE SANCTIONED. LET THEIR CHASTISEMENT BE MEMORABLE."

"How much are they going to forfeit?"

"THE BOY SHALL CLAIM MY DUE."

"And the offense to me?"

"BE CREATIVE."

"There are others looking at the boy from what I hear. How should I proceed?"

"THEY ALREADY HAVE MY BLESSING. LET THEM WEAVE HIM INTO THEIR DESIGNS AS THEY MAY. HOWEVER, THE LAWS GOVERNING THE THREE WILL REMAIN. DEATH SHALL NOT COME TO THEM THROUGH ANY INFLUENCE – DIRECTLY DIVINE, OR OTHERWISE."

Ao's voice paused for a moment, allowing Kihon'i to feel the weight of his decree so that she could pass it on correctly.

"THEIR STAY WILL BE SHORT, THEREFORE ANY PERMANENT BINDINGS MUST TRAVEL WITH THEM WHEN THEY LEAVE. AND THE THREE ARE AGENTS UNTO THEMSELVES AND SHOULD BE AFFORDED THE APPROPRIATE RESPECT."

"I take it that these third parties have been made aware of these provisions?"

"THEY HAVE."

"Wonderful! Less paperwork for me to fill out in the end." Kihon'i paused in her thoughts and nodded. "Looks like everything is in order, so we're done here then. If there's nothing else, then I'll submit my initial report and be on my way."

"SO BE IT."

(oo0/8/0oo)

Highden

The Isle of Lantan

"HAH! WHAT DID I TELL YE?" Duncan roared ecstatically as he pointed to a shaking and bouncing series of metal tubes and doodads suspended by chains from the shop's rafters.

Bertrold smiled at the triumphant grin plastered over his friend's soot and sweat streaked face. The noise of the monstrous contraption was terrible; even with earplugs, a set of earmuffs and three thick woolen scarves tied securely around his head. The dwarf clapped Bertrold soundly on the shoulder just as the machine belched a thunderous cloud of greasy black smoke. Sam, Duncan's kindly wife, jumped at the sound and wrinkled her nose at the smell.

The young displaced human that made the project's survival possible stood to Sam's left rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Bertrold was amazed that he seemed unbothered by the incredible sounds that his "eenjeen" was producing.

"WILL IT ALWAYS BE THIS LOUD?" Bertrold 's voice was already going hoarse from use. Another explosion of soot and sound made him jump right along with Sam. Young master Keiichi shook his head, and rubbed an oily finger under his nose leaving an impromptu mustache along his upper lip.

"NEED TO WORK MORE ON FUEL MIX – MAYBE ADD MUFFLER TO CUT DOWN NOISE!" The young man moved over to the engine and turned an odd lever, effectively silencing the machine. Bertrold 's ears rang in spite of the sudden absence of noise.

"BAH!" Sam and Keiichi winced at Duncan's booming baritone. "THE MIX IS PERFECT!"

"Is no good! Too much water!" Keiichi's voice barely cut through the ringing in Bertrold 's ears and it didn't seem to even phase Duncan.

"WHAT? SPEAK UP BOY!"

Keiichi sighed and tiredly shook his head. He was smiling though, which meant a great deal to Bertrold . In a little under ten days, the pair had made incredible progress. They had worked tirelessly, scrabbling together scraps from the previous failures. It was amazing how driven Duncan had become. It was driving poor Sam to worry for both her husband's health and poor Master Keiichi's as well. Still, if it had gotten them this far in such a short amount of time, more power to them! From the way that Duncan talked, this single invention was going to have Bertrold swimming in gold.

Speaking of gold….

"Master Keiichi." Bertrold began divesting himself of his protective gear even as he approached the human. It amazed the gnomish merchant when the young man turned politely at the sound of Bertrold 's approach. He had fully expected to have to shout.

"Master Keiichi."

"Yes, Mister Bertrold?" He asked earnestly.

"Begging your pardon lad, but have you had the opportunity to look into that matter we spoke of last week?"

It was a hard effort to hide his anticipation when the young man nodded his head and beckoned him towards the eastern wall of the shop. He paused a step behind Keiichi as they approached a large, oddly shaped, blanket covered, lump set against the wall. It was short by human standards, no taller than Keiichi's waist with a strange contour.

"Is only a…how you say…?" The lad wracked his brain for a word. "Mudel…."

"Model." Bertrold corrected, attempting to keep from wringing his hands impatiently.

"Model…" Keiichi seemed to roll the word around in his head, trying to memorize it. Bertrold nudged him lightly to remind him what they had come here for. The young human blinked and then nodded in embarrassment.

"Sorry." He bobbed his head and then carefully removed the blanket, revealing a compact machine of unknown purpose.

A circular flat stool that Bertrold had once seen in Duncan's study, sat in front of the small rectangular wooden table. Immediately beneath the table was a flat, foot sized piece of metal that had a long bar welded to the side facing the wall. A pair of unremarkable, round, fence posts ran from the floor to the bottom of the tabletop. Attached to the post on the right was a large iron wheel from one of Duncan's earlier experiments, which in turn was secured to another bar that ran parallel with the bottom of the table. Atop the table was an oddly shaped piece of metal, with a long arm that seemed able to move up and down. And attached to this arm was a small head with a stout sewing needle fixed firmly in place.

It was the simplest and crudest design that he had ever seen, but he immediately sat on the stool and began working the pedal. The head with the needle, moved up and down like a metallic woodpecker; rising and dipping into a small circular hole that had been cut into the table top.

"Is not finished." Keiichi protested. "I no have time to make it look nice."

Bertrold held up his hand, silencing the young man. The gnome had a fairly good idea of its purpose, but he wanted to hear it from Keiichi's mouth before going any further.

"What's it used for, Lad?"

"Is…how you say?"

Keiichi looked at Sam with a hopeless sense of frustration and beckoned her over. She happily excused herself from her bellowing husband and nudged Bertrold off the stool where she began working the pedal.

"Isn't it wonderful?" She said excitedly. "I helped Master Keiichi with the idea!"

"Truly marvelous, Sam." Bertrold deadpanned. The metal woodpecker's head bobbed even more furiously. "Just what is it?"

"It's an automated seamstress." She said proudly. Bertrold 's eyes slowly took in the contraption anew. "The thread spool is mounted here and threads down the head, into the eye of the needle. The needle can be changed out for working on different types of materials. Once I got the hang of it, the speed in the tests alone was triple what I could sew in a week's time! And just imagine it Bertrold ! No more sore pricked fingers!"

"And it works by foot power." The gnome murmured. "Simple and elegant. No mess. No loud noises, or whistles. No filthy coal pots or risk of fire! HAH! This beats Fushingold's 'Automatic Tailor' hand over fist!"

Piles of gold began to mount behind Bertrold 's eyes. This little machine was going to make him a rich gnome…well, richer than he already was. All that was needed was a little refinement here and there; small things to make the machine more friendly and attractive for a wider audience, something that Bertrold knew would be necessary. The current design was too primitive to hold any weight with the gnomish market. He needed to get Duncan onboard to fancy things up a bit and it would be ready for a debut at market in no time. Then he could start to recoup some of his losses and still have enough left over for this "Iron Horse" of Duncan's. A little gold went a long way with dwarves, so a generous incentive wouldn't be too much of a stretch to pad both the Steelwater and Morisato purses.

"Well done, Lad. Well done." He patted Keiichi's arm absently and lost himself in the plans for his new "Handless Seamstress." The tailors and dressmakers of Waterdeep wouldn't know what hit them.

(oo0/8/0oo)

The Yartar Road

Northwest of Hemmerling

Usagi stood before the behemoth, the smell of decay heavy in the air between them. The darkness within the room was battled valiantly by the small glowing stones that she had enchanted, but the weak light still cast hideous shadows on the cavern walls around her. She felt the oppressive weight of the earth above her and longed for the freedom that only the open sky could provide.

The monster shifted impatiently before her, looking for an opening in her defenses to exploit. Usagi's heart began to pound erratically in anticipation of the attack. All around her the shadows moved of their own volition, and the voices of the dead whispered their lamentations to her. She tried desperately to close out their cries of regret and demands for justice, to no avail. It was all she could do to keep from dropping the Moon Scepter from her trembling fist.

The monstrous creature before her recognized her fear and chuckled – a sound that seemed more an animalistic growl than anything remotely human. She knew that it was going to make its move at any moment…and somehow, deep inside her heart, she knew that there would be nothing she could do to stop it this time around. She could feel the dread power wafting off of it and knew that she was too weak to fight it off.

:YOU HAVE STOLEN WHAT IS MINE, DAUGHTER OF MYSTERIES.:

The cries of the dead rose in volume at the sound of the voice, and the shadows on the wall flickered, allowing the lights from Usagi's magical stones to catch the gruesome carnage behind the beast. She tried to find her voice – to cry out that she hadn't stolen anything, but she couldn't find the air to even mumble. Her throat clenched, as if someone were choking the words off just before they could find utterance. She fought against the pressure, valiantly pushing against the terror that constrained her.

"…no…" She whispered hoarsely. She pushed against her dread, thrashing against the sudden realization that this was another dream. It had to be another dream, for she knew that she had beaten this foe once already. More words formed and died on her lips, stillborn thoughts and protestations.

:YOU CANNOT DENY WHAT HAS BEEN WITNESSED BY SO MANY. YOU STOLE THEM FROM MY KEEPING. YOU PILFERED THEM FROM THEIR RESTS AND TORMENTS. HEREIN YOU ARE HELD TO ACCOUNT FOR YOUR THEIVERY AND A RECKONING WILL BE MADE. BY LORD AO'S DECREE, THE BALANCE MUST BE MAINTAINED.:

"…no…" Usagi felt her anger rising against the nightmare, and used it against the power that was keeping her silent. "…I…di…I didn't steal anything from you!" The last was forced out with every ounce of her considerable will backing it.

Accompanying the words was a flood of power unlike anything Usagi had safely channeled in her short life. The event was reminiscent of the Galaxy Cauldron, but the moment was fleeting – unlike the sensation she had experienced at the Well of Stars. When she had faced off against Galaxia there was a sensation of being on the cusp of eternity, teetering on the edge of complete oblivion. But this…this was best described as a brush against something much, much larger than even the Galaxy Cauldron – a well of power so deep and frightening that Usagi was certain that she would be unmade by it. Still, she grasped that power and channeled it outward, towards the shadowy figure. She was tired of being attacked. She was tired of being hounded for doing what her heart told her was right. Ultimately, she was just plain tired of being a target for people who thought they could intimidate and control her. She knew what she stood for and it was past time that she attacked first for a change.

Light flared and she screamed, feeling, for all the world, as if her insides were being flash frozen and burned up at the same instant. She felt the universe lurch and skid sideways and then she came abruptly awake to Ulin's frantic shaking.

Faces stared down at her…brightly lit faces. That was odd…there was light everywhere, even though Usagi knew that it was still night, or at least early morning. She felt oddly detached from the world around her too…as if she were outside herself looking in.

She cast her eyes about frantically, hoping to find something to focus on and regain some of her tenuous control. The faces hovering next to Ulin wore the same fearful expression that Usagi saw on her friend's pale jade countenance. It made the displaced princess uncomfortable to find herself under their weighted scrutiny, so she directed her attention elsewhere, in the hopes that her benefactor and the curious onlookers would take the hint and leave her be.

Off to her right, amidst the trees, she noted a tall and imposing figure standing in the shadows, on the very edge of the light. His face was handsome, albeit a bit aloof, and he wore brightly polished plate mail armor that covered evenly tanned skin. His hair was black and his gauntleted hands rested on the pommel of an incredibly deadly looking sword. Were it not for the weapon and the dark, abyssal eyes staring through her, Usagi would have been comforted by his rugged beauty. Unfortunately, the man's presence served to only set her nerves further on edge. She turned away from him, looking for Ulin's familiar face and perhaps a comforting smile…anything to escape the warrior's frigid, damning gaze. Yet wherever she looked, he was there floating on the edge of her vision and awareness.

As she turned away again, a somber, sonorous, voice echoed quietly on the wind.

:ALL RETURN TO MY EMBRACE AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER. EVEN ONE SUCH AS YOU, DAUGHTER OF MAGIC. YOU CANNOT FIGHT MY INEVITABILITY. RETURN THEM TO ME. RETURN THEM, OR MAKE RECOMPENSE – SOUL FOR SOUL…I CARE NOT WHICH.:

The light slowly evaporated, leaving Usagi and those around her wrapped in a shroud of shadows. She collapsed against Ulin's shoulder tiredly and attempted to regain control over her quaking body. There was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't sleep any more; just like every other night she'd faced these nightmares over the last month and a half.

Fifty-five days had passed since the Silver Princess had risen from the tomb of Goruch's Mines. Fifty-five days of nigh aimless wandering looking for food and shelter in the wilderness. Fifty-five bloody days of the same stupid, creepy dream…each and every night, without fail. The weight of leading the refugees was starting to take its toll on Usagi's spirit.

After almost eight weeks of slowly walking towards Ulin's "Silverymoon," she was emotionally fatigued and it was quite evident that these people she'd somehow become responsible for weren't going to quietly disappear like she had hoped. No, they continued to look to her for guidance and protection – regardless of whether she had the answers and or power that they needed. With the rising of the sun each morning, Usagi felt more and more like a fraud stumbling helplessly in her attempts to give everyone the confidence they needed to survive until she could find a place that would take them in. Day in and day out, she tried to remember how she had come to this particular juncture in her life. Sadly, the answer remained the same…day in and day out.

It all boiled down to Love and Justice. Never had those two words ever seemed so damning or repulsive. Never had they inspired anything remotely close to true regret in her heart. Still, while she might whine and moan, after it was all said and done, she knew that she wouldn't go back and do things any differently. She'd always followed her heart, no matter how hard the path became or how much it hurt.

Sighing to herself, she silently waved those gathered around her back to their beds. Ulin, Shandri Dunhill, and a few others remained annoyingly close, but Usagi rolled onto her side and tried diligently to ignore them, pretending to go back to sleep. For over two hours she remained awake, listening to the sounds of the night. People slept fitfully throughout the camp, and the Watch called out to each other every ten minutes to ensure the safety of those that rested – and somewhere above and behind her, an owl hooted.

Usagi still hadn't gotten used to roughing it, but she could readily acknowledge the beauty of the wilds. There was something incredibly free about sleeping beneath the stars. If she ever got home, she knew that she would miss the simple pleasure of the wind gently brushing through the trees, or the lonely cry of a wolf in the distance. Perhaps she could convince some of the girls to take a weekend to go camping when she got back…well, if she ever got back.

Thoughts of home inevitably brought Usagi's mind back to other, more pressing concerns.

The dream began to creep back into the displaced Senshi's mind, leaving her feeling uneasy and agitated. She couldn't escape the notion that this was more than a nightmare. The frequency of the visions could not be discounted, nor could the dark message they contained. Up until recently, the dreams had been fleeting. She'd rarely been able to recall them with any clarity. Now however, the message was all too vivid and memorable.

Usagi rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, seeking whatever fleeting comfort she could find in the quiet of the cool night breezes that swept through the camp. The voice had always said that she would have to pay a price for what she had taken. And while Usagi didn't have Rei's training in interpreting dreams, it didn't take a genius to guess what the mysterious voice was getting at.

She sat up slowly and looked out across the glade where the company had set up camp. Seventy-two men, women, and children had followed her away from Goruch's mines – some of whom were sick, lame, or elderly. The group's numbers had swelled over the weeks to reach one hundred and twenty eight.

There were in total thirty-two able-bodied men that had taken up the call to protect the camp. Forty-seven healthy women had proven without a doubt that they could hold their own in a fight, and had bolstered the camp's morale. Out of the remaining forty-nine members of the camp, twenty were children under the age of twelve, nineteen were between the ages of twelve and fourteen, and the other ten were adults that were sick, crippled, or too old to do more than swing a cooking spoon. Add to this number Ulin and Usagi, and the total number of refugees maxed out at one hundred and thirty souls – all of whom looked to Usagi for guidance and leadership with an unnerving sense of…piety. Like she was a goddess or something. The whole affair creeped her out.

Had it not been for Ulin and Shandri, Usagi would have been swamped by the constant petitions of the people that had attached themselves to her skirts. More than that, they had become the lifeline that secured her against the loneliness that constantly threatened to overwhelm her.

Ulin was a great buffer, fending off the more mundane issues and Shandri had been her constant shadow, quietly deflecting the demands when Ulin was otherwise busy. Ulin weathered the angry complaints and demands with surprising patience, while Shandri diligently worked behind the scenes to gently smooth troubles over before they ever got out of hand. The only times that the pair allowed people to bother Usagi was when a dispute grew too heated and needed to be settled by someone with more authority than they had. Although, Usagi did try hard to make herself available to the rest of the members of the camp – often times surprising an individual or a group with her presence.

The role of judge and jury had been, and still was, a very uncomfortable affair for her. Truth be told, she hated it worse than doing homework. The fact was, that Usagi looked forward to Ulin's demanding magic lessons over playing Judge Judy any day of the week. However, the Genasi had pointed out early on that the people respected Usagi's authority more than they respected the sorceress and therefore it was Usagi's job to mete out justice – regardless of how uncomfortable it made the young woman feel.

So far, it hadn't been anything truly serious. She'd had to rule on a dispute between a man and a woman over a blanket; which in the end Usagi had gotten so frustrated over the bickering of the adults that she had scolded them for being children and then gave the blanket to another family altogether. Happily, four nights later, Usagi learned that the man and woman had ended up sharing a blanket and were now very much in love.

Many of the children came before her as well to be scolded for picking fights, taking things from the other children, or for wandering too far from the protection of the camp. It was weird finding herself in a more motherly role – more so because she found herself repeating the same things her mother had said to her time and time again.

The thought of becoming her mother caused her to giggle, which inevitably turned into tears as thoughts of home overwhelmed her. She pushed the depression down, barely silencing her sobs as one of the night watch passed near. She noted with some irony that it was Viet Lackman, the young man that she had first encountered in the mines. He looked out over the shadowy line of bushes tiredly, with one hand on the pommel of his very polished short sword, watching for any hint of danger. The sight of him, looking so haunted and determined helped Usagi push away thoughts of home.

It had been sheer luck that the group hadn't run into anything truly dangerous out in the wilds. The loveable Conner Hennley, a man of fifty some years, had pointed out a number of potentially dangerous signs throughout their trek southeast. From what she could gather, Conner had been a woodsman before his enslavement by Goruch. He'd been teaching Viet throughout their journey, showing him all manner of tracks and woodcraft. Usagi had been secretly fascinated the few times that she had been close enough to listen in, but hadn't gotten up the courage to join the lessons. After all, how would it look if the almighty "Silver Princess" were to ask an old man to teach her too?

Usagi sighed and slipped out from beneath her blankets. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get back to sleep tonight. She stretched stiffly and began walking through the small groups of slumbering bodies, cataloging the dangers that she had heard Conner and some of the other men discussing with Ulin. They had crossed behind a patrol of Uthgart barbarians, whatever they were, two weeks into their travels. The tracks and the fresh signs of passage were met with no little concern amongst the refugees; most of them had apparently heard stories or had some knowledge of the Uthgart, which only added to the anxiety of the situation. They had spent three days walking in silence, stopping only when the sun touched the horizon. By some miracle of circumstance, they had encountered no hostilities from the barbarian tribes…even if they did come upon their handy work.

The hamlet of Moerstead had been at one time a healthy community of over five hundred. That apparently changed when the town elders offended an Uthgart Shaman. The hermit, according to the stories told, cursed the town with a vicious magical plague because of some careless hunters who killed a deer sacred to the Uthgart. The illness attacked the healthy adults first, boiling their minds with high fevers and hallucinations. The next to fall victim were the elderly and the infirm. The plague was vicious in that its victims didn't die right away – they lingered for days until a suicidal madness took them. The only ones physically untouched by the plague were Moerstead's children, but Usagi could see the emotional toll that the suffering had caused. She didn't waste time trying to find the Shaman, but instead called upon the power of her crystal again. The healing that took place was no less miraculous than her last feat, and in the end the group's numbers swelled again. Ulin and Mister Blackhammer had disappeared for a day, and upon returning to the town, assured everyone that the shaman wouldn't be troubling the community any more. Usagi knew in her heart what had probably happened, but refrained from asking out right. She had enough nightmares already. She didn't need to add to them. Knowing the truth of Ulin's confrontation was only asking for another mountain of guilt.

Some of the original group chose to stay in Moerstead to build new lives for themselves, but a large number of the town's citizens forsook their homes in order to follow the "Silver Princess" to whatever fortune she could help them find. Even after all this time, the whole event left a nasty taste in Usagi's mouth.

A week out from Moerstead, while following a game trail, they came into a clearing and were confronted by a rather large black bear. A number of men had mentioned something about bear stew, but before they could so much as raise their homemade spears, the bear had disappeared into the brush. The hungry men started after it immediately, but Usagi had called them back. It was one thing to have to eat Thumper or Bambi, but the thought of eating Winnie the Pooh just made Usagi's stomach lurch.

From that day forward, the group had been blessed with odd happenings – small stacks of dead wood along the trails that they had been walking, a pile of freshly caught fish and rabbits on a rock that were encountered by the scouts, and on one very peculiar occasion they came upon a rather large number of hemp bags filled with clothing and much needed supplies. Conner had said that these gifts had come from some nature-friendly benefactor, an elf or a ranger perhaps, something that Ulin guardedly concurred with. In any event, Usagi made it a point to leave little thank you notes and small gifts of her own when ever they encountered the blessings of their mysterious benefactor.

Outside of those incidents though, things had been very quite for the group; too quite according to Ulin. The sorceress had spent every night furthering Usagi's lessons in magic, pushing Usagi to learn small spells and how to use Weavesight, to see how magic flowed and recognize how it was being used. In the last week, Ulin had insisted that Usagi learn how to set wards in order to alert them of danger, and the added security allowed almost everyone to rest a little easier. Unfortunately, the magical wards didn't protect against nightmares or hallucinations.

Usagi passed one of the other guards, Nam Holling, and waved. He nodded and smiled silently then returned his attention to the perimeter of the grove. She moved closer to the slightly balding man, but he held up his hand and shook his head. Usagi understood the man's rejection; he didn't want to be distracted. Apparently Ulin wasn't the only one that feared the idea of their luck running out. The majority of the camp seemed on edge about the uneventful progress they'd made. Happily, they were nearing another township. If things went well, then they wouldn't need to worry about the other shoe dropping. All she had to do was convince the town elders to take in the refugees, and then convince the refugees to stay in the town instead of following her all the way to Silverymoon. The young woman sighed and drifted onward through the grove, looking more like a ghostly apparition than a living person.

She looked over the faces of the children as she passed, bending down every once in a while to pull up a blanket or comfort a whimpering voice. She kissed each of their heads as she finished, before moving onto the next child. Each of their names were on her lips as she passed, and she was comforted to notice that more than one motherly woman cracked an eye when Usagi drew near.

In her mind's eye she saw the warrior again, dressed for battle in his polished armor, with sword drawn. She could feel his oppressive hand hovering over the camp, waiting for the inevitable confrontation.

If he wanted her to pay a price for these innocents, then she would. Whatever the cost, she wouldn't let him have them back. And if he pressed her, as so many enemies had in the past, then she would take the fight to him.

She would fight him and win.

(oo0/8/0oo)

There are places, throughout the vastness of Faerun, that hold sway over the fates of men, elves, and beasts alike. These places do not respect the whims of morality, nor do they pay heed to the subtle conventionalities of life and death. They exist as they always have: above the judgments of Gods and Mortals. They are what they are, and for good or ill they serve all equally.

One such place, in the heart of the fabled ruins of Myth Drannor, has served many over the centuries. Some of these masters were benevolent and others diabolical. The Pool of Radiance cared not who used its power. Its magical waters continued to flow, regardless of who attempted to harness them.

To describe a Pool of Radiance, one only has to imagine a raw nerve of magic, exposed and unrefined, for all to access and influence. The power that the pool offers is great, yet those bold (or stupid) enough to make the attempt to yoke such potential, more often than not, found their desires and dreams consumed by the pool. Their minds, bodies, and spirits were quick to follow. Some have said that tapping the pool is like trying to drink an ocean in one large swallow.

Over the years, agents of varying moralities have knowingly and unknowingly corrupted the purity of these places of power – some for the betterment of all and others for the purposes of destruction.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Myth Drannor

Khindristryx stirred as a soft, multicolored light danced in the Pool beneath her. She had spent over four decades patiently undermining the former occupant of this large chamber; laying her plans long before her prey had even thought of obtaining the powers of the Pool. She had manipulated allegiances, scuttled trust, and sown seeds of discord amongst the ranks of Pelendralaar, the Red Death's faithful. The doubly deceased dracolich had never imagined that the sanctity of his lair played host to an unwitting traitor. Khindristryx thought it poetic irony that the same buffoon that had overseen Pelendralaar's "Ascendance" was the very instrument of the undead dragon's undoing.

That had been a little over three months ago and the effort had paid off quite well in terms of profit and power as far as the former green dragon was concerned. She had since undergone her own "Ascendance" into lichdom and destabilized or absorbed the entirety of Pelendralaar's forces. Nothing was more satisfying to the new dracolich than a well-executed plan, especially when it involved such a pompous enemy as Pelendralaar. Ilthylandrinimus had been avenged, and his horde reclaimed. All that remained for Khindristryx to concern herself with was consolidating her forces and executing the secondary phase of her plan – subjugating the fabled lands of Myth Drannor and returning them to their natural splendor. Such an undertaking wouldn't come easily or cheaply, and in the end it would more than likely take a century or two to clean the rabble from her new domain.

Yet, even before Pelendralaar fell, Khindristryx had been busy laying the groundwork for the next phase of her plan. When it became apparent what the former red dragon had been planning, it took little effort to cultivate the necessary allegiances amongst the inhabitants of the cursed elven city to overthrow the ambitious tyrant.

The Baatsu were easily swayed to her promises and could effortlessly be played against the Tanar'ri with little in the way of repercussions for her own holdings. Their Bloodwar would eventually see the end of their foul presence within a year's time if properly managed. The demons and devils cared little for the machinations of dragons and men, which made them straightforward to manipulate. A promise here, a word of warning there…and their attentions were focused well away from her interests.

Something in the borders of Myth Drannor was already stirring them against each other, and if rumor was to be believed, it was hunting the Infernals with great prejudice. The identity of the hunter or hunters yet remained a mystery, but the power necessary to kill so many of the Infernals had to be respected. Regardless of who or what was destroying the Baatzu and Tanar'ri, Khindristryx knew that she would have to tread carefully lest she draw too much attention to herself. Few that hunted demons and devils, loved the undead, therefore the dracolich had adopted a deportment of patient observation, rather than actively pursuing more information. She knew that she would eventually have to investigate this unknown element, lest it disrupt her carefully laid web of intrigue. Until then, she would consolidate her assets and build her contingency plans.

The Cult of the Dragon, at least those members that remained in Myth Drannor, were hers, heart and soul. In their eyes the testimony of her divinity was Pelendralaar's downfall. They had easily shifted their prayers and favor to Khindristryx, worshipping her with a fervor that was altogether insane. They made for good agents and fodder, but beyond that she had yet to fully explore their usefulness. Up until now, she had simply used them as intermediaries between the different power groups in and around Myth Drannor. They had gathered sketchy information about the Demon Hunter, but it seemed all but impossible for a lone she-elf to cause that much damage. Still, the undead dragon had heard any number of strange and unbelievable tales in her millennial life span. What was one more?

Khindristryx shook her head and smiled at the reckless imaginations of her minions. The very act caused the rotting flesh on her snout to flap and sag disgustingly. Truly humans were a bleating folk, able to inspire such greatness in one breath and in the next send the whole race into a mad and frothing frenzy of fear and paranoia. It was a wonder to her that they had survived the ages as well as they had….

Unlike the imprudent Pelendralaar, Khindristryx held no pretentious belief that she was a goddess – not yet at least. That status, while within her reach, was years away from fruition. Realizing this and accepting it rendered any effort to usurp or undermine the dracolich through the Cult of the Dragon, doomed from the outset.

There were other enemies to be leery of besides the Infernals and the mystery that hunted them. The rogue elements of the drow and the treasure hungry mercenaries from outside the borders of Cormanthor, held little concern for her at the moment; her pact with the Deepspawn saw to it that Myth Drannor was fairly swarmed with monsters to bog down and challenge any foolish enough to enter the cursed city. However, the unpredictability of such guests was not something to dismiss out of hand. Too many of her kin had fallen prey to the unnatural luck of a treasure hunter or glory hound. All it took was one lucky soul, to undo the carefully laid machinations of centuries.

After all, no plan was truly fool proof.

That thought alone set her sharp mind to turning back to the mysterious devil hunter again. Perhaps it was time to look into the matter with more than a passing interest. Then again, the Infernals could just as easily fallen prey to something else within Myth Drannor's borders.

The Phaerimm were the most likely culprits. They were a force to be reckoned with, and they were no one's fools. If there were any contingent to truly be feared, it was these creatures. They were the solitary reason for the longevity of her plans – without them in the picture, Myth Drannor could be hers in under a decade.

Alien by even a dragon's standards, Khindristryx had learned to use extreme caution when dealing with these ancient threats. After watching a squadron of Tanar'ri systematically wiped out before her eyes, she thought it prudent to adopt a "wait and watch" policy with them as well. She hoped that eventually the Phaerimm would lose their interest in Myth Drannor and move on. The conical monstrosities were magical geniuses and masterful strategists, intent on destruction when roused. Khindristryx could openly concede that these beasts were superior to her mentally, if only because of their numbers. One, she felt confident she could handle. Two would be difficult, but not outside her reach…however there were a total of eight Phaerimm floating about the city, searching for their lost treasures.

Khindristryx desired to rule Myth Drannor and all of Cormanthor, and she held little doubt that out of all her neighbors, the Phaerimm were her greatest threat. She would need a great deal more power and a number of solid plans and contingencies primed, if she were to face them all and survive. Which meant that the other distractions in her new realm needed to be dealt with first. Perhaps she could covertly pit some of these nuisances against the Phaerimm…to dwindle their numbers a bit more to her favor.

She wasn't foolish enough to hold a great deal of faith in the idea that these dread foes would be undermined so easily. It would take a great deal more than demons and drow to remove these menaces from the picture. No, the key to truly defeating the Phaerimm, and in turn gaining all her desires, was held in the pool beneath her. That much was obvious. All that she needed was time to put it to proper use. Time however, was not a commodity that she had in great reserve. Especially considering the way that the Pool of Radiance was resonating.

Something powerful had come to Myth Drannor – something that could upset the fragile balance of things and irreparably destroy Khindristryx's newborn power. Whether this entity or power was her mysterious demon slayer or something else entirely, she could not know. The dracolich shifted her rapidly rotting bulk across the stones of the chamber's scarred floor, and watched as the Pool of Radiance became even more agitated.

What was coming? Or rather, what had already arrived in her new kingdom?

Khindristryx sent her will into the Pool and immediately found herself fighting it for dominance, an occurrence that had happened all too often of late. An ocean of power immediately threatened to scour her from the face of the earth, but she fought against it. She clawed her way to dominance, biting and slashing the raging torrent into submission. As she gained her tentative control over the powers of the pool, she cast her awareness along the Weave, looking for the source of the resonance.

Darkness surrounded her for a time, and she felt the immensity of the void dwarf her utterly. Few things can come close to humbling a dragon, but even these mighty titans have their limitations. Khindristryx relished the feeling, not out of any sense of masochism, but for the realization that there was more for her to achieve.

Being small gave one purpose.

She allowed herself a moment to bask in the limitless expanse, before again focusing her will on the Pool. She needed to know how to defeat the Phaerimm and uncover what new authority had come to Myth Drannor, threatening her rule. Even as the question was posed, the black void around her was sundered.

A great rumbling shook the emptiness and the black expanse before her split in twain. White light spilled forth, bathing her…blinding her. Her fragile control over the Pool was shattered, and she felt her awareness being yanked back. She roared in pain as the light burned the rotting flesh from her bones; her spirit fled back to the Pool's chamber with all possible haste. As she was retreating, Khindristryx chanced one last look into the light and trembled.

Looking back at her was a single great eye, the size of the entire world. Its massive black iris, surrounded by a stormy gray ocean, contracted to focus on her. The dracolich could bear no more and fled with all speed back to the relative safety of her palace.

With the connection to the Pool severed, Khindristryx lay spent before the magical well. The flesh that had hung, rotting from her bones, was little more than ash now, piled beneath her in a gritty blanket across the smooth stone of her perch. The primal rock that served as her bed bubbled in places. Her bones were no longer bleached ivory, but now were blackened and burnt, a testimony to her insatiable curiosity. She had no strength to lift even her skeletal fore-claw from the superheated flagstones, let alone berate the fool Bodvyn that knelt fearfully at the far western entrance to her sanctuary.

"Speak, priest." Those two words alone weakened the dracolich further.

"The Dread Lord Bhezmit, of the Black Gut Legion, and the High Commander Ulron of Garganon's Fifth Column have arrived for an audience with you, oh Divine One."

Khindristryx's echoing hiss made the priest cower.

"Slack their thirsts and their lusts, Bodvyn. Be free and generous with the slaves and prisoners..." The dracolich whispered tiredly. "…With apologies for the delay that I must impose upon them. Tell them each, that I have grave news for their ears only."

The undead dragon shifted irritably, drawing as much strength as she could from deep within herself. It was going to take all of her cunning and skill to divert these two from noticing her weakness. The priest remained prostrate, waiting to be dismissed.

"Keep them ignorant of each other…but not too ignorant. I may have to enact a few of my plans more rapidly than originally intended." The man nodded, but otherwise did not move. "Go quickly, priest."

Khindristryx ignored the man's rapid retreat in favor of improvising plans within plans. She was never one to miss an opportunity to gain power…especially one that would accelerate her plans an hundred fold. But how does one defeat a god when surrounded by so many powerful enemies?

The dracolich growled in frustration as she looked to the maelstrom that the Pool of Radiance had become. An idea sparked on the fringes of her mind and began to grow rapidly.

Of course! It was so simple.

Like all of her plans of late, the Pool was the key. It would be a tasking endeavor to accomplish; one that could just as easily be her undoing should she misstep. Her only consolation was the fact that she was certainly not the only one to notice the approach of this powerful being. She would have grinned had she still had the flesh to do so. Things were coming together even more rapidly now.

If a god truly walked the forests of Cormanthor again, then the undead dragon needed fodder to weaken it, while she subsumed control over the Pool of Radiance. Pelendralaar had already laid the foundation, and it was Khindristryx's hope that she could finish what her predecessor had started before gaining the full attention of her powerful adversaries. There was no margin for error here. One blunder would mean the dracolich's second death. Still the alternative was too delectable to pass up.

If the beast still retained her lungs, she would have sighed.

It looked as if she would be becoming a goddess after all.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Ranma-neko roused from her nap and stretched languidly before bathing herself. The Blight Tongue had visited her dream, which meant that the Flame Tongue was dead. There was no way that the Flame Tongue would let the Blight Tongue enter its territory otherwise. Ranma-neko sharpened her claws on the stone of the cavern walls, ponderously. Great slabs of stone were sheared away beneath her languid attentions. She yawned and then licked her paw, weighing her goals for the day.

She would play with the Burning Ones and the Black Hearts. They needed to be dealt with once and for all. The black almost-men she would leave alone for now, but the Blight Tongue also needed to be dealt with. The question was who to play with first?

Purring, she left the cavern she had laired in and caught a scent on the air. The Burning Ones were close by, as was a pack of Black Hearts. Ranma-neko grinned. She would play with them a bit and then take them to the grumpy see-through-she.

If anyone needed to play more, Ranma-neko knew that it was the grumpy see-through-she.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Highden

Keiichi sighed and wiped his brow as Sister Maerdith Toulin scribbled something down in her ever-present journal. Her fingers were stained brown and black from ink and there was a small smudge on her forehead, just above her right eyebrow. Keiichi smiled fondly, remembering the numerous times he had seen Megumi in a similar state. Sister Maerdith was fast becoming a fixture in Keiichi's life as she quietly sat in the background studying her notes and scribblings. Keiichi returned the large iron hammer to its hook on the wall and scooped up a black, stiff-bristled broom from near the door of the shop. The woman was homely, but by no means unattractive. Had she taken the time to address her appearance, she would have given Sayoko a run for her money. In a way, she reminded him of a lot more confident Sora. Thoughts of home washed over him and he felt a sudden pang of homesickness.

"Thank you."

He looked up to see Sister Maerdith looking at him over the rim of her spectacles.

"What for?" He bent his head and began sweeping, as much to occupy his hands as to hide his sadness.

"For taking the time to answer my questions." The woman allowed her chin to drop into her hand as she leaned over the book in her lap. "Your world is so fascinating. The technology, public schools…" She glanced at her notes. "…refrigerators, airplanes…. It seems idyllic."

Keiichi shrugged.

"Is all good."

"'It is all good.'" She corrected.

"'It's…'" Keiichi amended with a sad smile.

"You miss it don't you?" The rhetorical question was directed more to herself, than to Keiichi it seemed. She had somewhat of a guilty expression on her face that only enhanced her likeness to Sora in that moment.

"I miss someone." He said after a moment. "Very much. But this place is…how you say? Nice? Good? It make I want to see everything."

"'It makes me want to see everything.'" She corrected again. "You're mixing up your pronouns again."

Keiichi nodded and closed his eyes, trying to make sure that he corrected the mistake. He was never any good with languages. They always seemed to become jumbled in his head. Sister Maerdith seemed to sense this and smiled.

"Think of it as a mathematical formula. Certain parts are plugged in to achieve a desired end. It's a linear process and you just have to learn the different rules. Don't worry, it will come in time."

Keiichi nodded and smiled again before returning to his sweeping. Sister Maerdith went back to scribbling for a moment, leaving Keiichi to wonder over what she was currently writing about. Was she writing about him, or about what they had been talking about before? It took him several moments to realize that he had stopped sweeping and was staring at the strange symbols that she was scribing into the book. Her hand was sure and steady, very unlike his handwriting.

"Is something wrong, Master Keiichi?" He blinked and then blushed when he realized that he was gawking at her.

"No. I'm sorry to stare…is just…how do you say? I was asking what you write?"

"You were wondering what I was writing?" She clarified.

"Yes." Keiichi nodded.

Sister Maerdith pushed her glasses up to rest more comfortably on the bridge of her nose and then rolled her neck.

"It's actually a history of your stay here. Something of a practical biography that Father Ellosin has asked me to chronicle."

"You are writing about I…I mean…me?" At her nod, Keiichi felt very self-conscious. "But I am no one. I am just a normal person."

"You are hardly normal Master Keiichi, not in this world…nor I suspect in your own."

This set Keiichi back on his heels for a moment. She did have a point. How many people could say that they were personally involved with a goddess, let alone had personal connections to more than one? He shook his head and smiled.

"Can you tell me more about your life with her?"

Keiichi pondered her request for a moment before beginning to describe some of the more…tame adventures that he had experienced with Belldandy and her sisters – Sayoko's trouble with Mara, the arrivals of Urd, Skuld, and an edited version of Peorth's visit. Maerdith listened patiently without interrupting until finally, with half the afternoon gone, Keiichi finally quieted.

"I wish I could hear her voice."

Maerdith laughed bitterly.

"Why you laugh?" He said defensively.

"Forgive me Master Keiichi, but you are spoiled."

Keiichi blinked and looked at the ground self-consciously.

"How so?"

"Do you have any idea what I would give to hear Ohgma's voice? To speak with him as you converse with your Belldandy?" Her face took on an almost bitter cast as she looked at him. "It is wondrous to me that he deems me worthy enough to answer my prayers, let alone grant me the endowments and spells that he does." She shook her head and smiled longingly. "You are a truly blessed man to have been given the gifts that your goddess so lovingly bestowed upon you. Please forgive me if I point out that you are acting like an ungrateful child."

Keiichi frowned, somewhat upset with the frankness of her assessment. Maerdith snapped her book shut and stood, cutting off his protests.

"I have watched you very carefully these last few days Master Keiichi. Not once have you prayed to your goddess. Not once have you given her thanks for your life and health, or offered up a sacrifice in the hopes of receiving the direction that only the Divine can provide. Instead you mope and tinker, without thanks or recognition of the aid others give you. How do you expect to get home? Will you wait for her to do all the work for you? Is that how you show her your love? Is it any wonder then, that she has not contacted you? You sir, are a thoughtless child because your actions declare you as such. It is up to you to seek her favor. Not the other way around."

Keiichi's frown deepened and his hands clenched the broom tightly against the harshness of Sister Maerdith's blunt words. Sadly, he couldn't discount her points.

"Please forgive me Master Keiichi." Maerdith tucked an errant strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I spoke out of turn."

Keiichi didn't know what he could say to this and sighed. What did he know about praying? The only times he'd ever been religious were during festivals and holidays which, upon looking back on things, seemed incredibly disrespectful to Belldandy and her sisters. Maerdith was right. He was acting like an ungrateful child. Keiichi's brow furrowed and uncertainty welled in his heart. The words of Ty Binder filled his mind again - "How can a man, who has truthfully proclaimed to love and be loved by a goddess, not be religious?"

"I…" He paused and scratched his bare cheek in order to hide his shame. "I am…how do you say? Not knowing how to pray to Belldandy." Maerdith stared at Keiichi as if he were pulling her leg.

"You are serious!" She exclaimed. "You really have no idea?"

Keiichi shook his head ruefully, and set his broom aside in favor of sitting on a stool near the doors of the shop.

"Well, now. This is unexpected." Sister Maerdith tapped her quill against her chin ponderously. "How did you communicate with her when you were separated? Or better still, how was it that you called upon her the first time?"

Keiichi scratched his head and shrugged.

"I call her on the phone."

Maerdith immediately started flipping through her journal, looking for a reference.

"This was the form of long distance communication…right?"

Keiichi nodded and Maerdith sighed.

"Is this the only way that people in your world contact their deities?" Keiichi's brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"No…I think they go to church and make offerings at temples."

"Neither of which you have at your disposal here." The priestess admitted. "Well, Master Keiichi, there is only one bit of advice that I can offer you."

Maerdith began packing the rest of her belongings in silence, leaving Keiichi to wonder if she was going to finish her thought.

"You must build a shrine to honor your goddess and exercise a little faith. Call upon her name daily until she deems you worthy of an answer." Ty Binder's words echoed in the woman's voice - "…exercise a little faith."

Keiichi had been dodging all thoughts of the discussion he'd had with Binder or whoever he was for weeks now, but here faced with his words again, Keiichi couldn't escape the ideas set forth during that conversation.

"One of you is divine by birth. One divine by chance. But one of you can be divine by design."

"Divine by design…" he whispered.

"I'm sorry?" Maerdith paused at the door.

No…nothing." Keiichi waved her off. "Just wondering what I saying should be."

"That's, 'What I should be saying.' Master Keiichi." The Oghmite shook her head. "Try not to worry about the words, so much as the true meanings behind them. Let your love guide your voice and you cannot fail."

Keiichi watched the priestess leave without really seeing her. He sighed again and looked heavenward. He had absolutely no ideas about where to start or how one should about building a shrine to a goddess. In the end though, he was Japanese, and had watched his relatives honor his great aunt and grandfather on certain holidays. He wasn't sure if Belldandy would appreciate something like that, but it was at least a place to start.

(oo0/8/0oo)

The Plains of Huigun

The Yartar Road

"Has she spoken to anyone today Master Blackhammer?" Ulin spared another worried glance at her charge from the corner of her eye. Usagi sat alone before a fire that she had built with her own hands, far from the rest of the camp. The change was startling to say the least. Physically she had changed little, and outside of the almost metallic silver sheen to her hair, the girl was just the same as before. There was a tangible aura about her now that was hard to define though. It was peaceful and yet palpably unsettled.

"Same as yesterday…" The gruff dwarf from Mistobar followed Ulin's eyes to the lithe young woman and shook his head. "…not a word to anyone. Not even the li'l ones."

Ulin sighed and reclined against the large trunk of a Leatherleaf.

"She did crack a smile though when little Juil brought her some flowers, and if yer asking meself that's more'n we've seen since the nightspooks stopped comin'. She's on edge, she is. Like she's waitin' fer the hammer to fall. Still, a smile's an improvement over a dark cloud o' worry by anyone's measure." He took a pull on his pipe and let out a nice fat ring of lazy smoke into the night.

Ulin ran her hand through her dark, cropped hair and made a sound in her throat that was reminiscent of stones grinding together. She wasn't sure what she was frustrated with more; the fact that Usagi had returned to her silent brooding or that Ulin had no idea why the girl had retreated from the rest of the world. That wasn't true. She knew the dreams were at the heart of the problem, but Usagi refused to share them with anyone.

"Well, is it an improvement or not?" The dwarf growled matter-of-factly. Ulin tossed the dwarf a sidelong glance that was flat as slate and as hard as granite. He sat solidly, unmoved by the stare. Ulin relented and took a deep cleansing breath.

"I'm sorry, Master Blackhammer."

"Fer what, Lass? Carin' fer a friend?" He chuckled. "Aye, there's something to be sorry for."

Ulin shook her head and smiled softly. That's what she loved most about dwarves. They were direct, brutally blunt, and made no apologies about what they were feeling. Ulin wished that she could be as stalwart in her feelings. Sadly, all that she felt these days was unsettling guilt. She picked up a stick from the small fire that they had made and prodded the coals.

"I suppose that you are right. We should take pleasure where we can. We're less than a day's walk from Hemmerling, and will be speaking with their Gentlemen's Council in the morning. I should be happy that we are making such steady progress. But at what price? She is changed Master Blackhammer, and I wonder if it at all for the better."

Ulin looked at her young friend across the way and let her head droop.

"These dreams of hers have taken a dark turn and she wakes every night drenched in cold sweat and crying out in a fearsome rage. Half the camp can hear her defiant bellowing, and yet no one can give me the answers that I need. Why does she wake screaming, 'I did not steal them?' and why do I hear her calling out the names of so many within the camp? Three nights ago, the entire camp woke to her floating seven feet in the air, surrounded by silver flames, rebuking this invisible enemy of her dreams. It is disquieting. Now that the dreams have suddenly stopped…. I wanted to help her, Master Blackhammer. I wanted to give her hope, but all that I have brought her is pain and suffering."

"Yer heart's still wantin' to help her I'm thinkin'. So quit yer bellyaching and get to it!"

"And just how do you propose that I accomplish this wondrous miracle? I try to keep the pressures of the camp from touching her, but even that seems a poor trade for all that she has suffered so far. I cannot return her to her home, nor can I fathom this new burden that she carries."

Ulin stabbed her stick full into the fire, causing the ground to tremble a bit from her anger. The dwarf looked momentarily troubled but he squared his shoulders and closed his mouth around his pipe to keep from saying anything.

"How, in Mystra's holy name, can I help someone, when I don't know what the burden is?"

The jade skinned Genasi tossed her hands in the air.

"No one will tell me what happened. No one will explain to me where all of these people came from. From the ragged and dirty state of their clothing, they had to be prisoners in the mine and yet no one seems to know each other. The fact that many of these people seem to be wearing burial rags from a hundred years ago makes even less sense. It's as if some mad group of refugees raided a cemetery." She swept her arm out to encompass the large encampment. Over twenty campfires blazed throughout the area, each boasting between two to five occupants.

"No one will explain why they all but worship Usagi. And she will not confide in me how she is so changed, both physically and spiritually. So I ask again, what would you propose that I do to help my friend when I cannot see the root of the problem, Master Dwarf?"

Garl Blackhammer shifted uneasily and eyed the woman across from him. But, like every other time that she had confronted him about the event at the mines, he refused to speak. Ulin could see a need in him to talk about it, but all he did was stroke his beard nervously and steal glances Usagi's way.

"Oh, for the love of Moradin! Answer me!"

Invoking the name of the dwarf's god probably wasn't a good idea, but Ulin was past caring for subtlety. The sorceress wasn't certain what had caused her patience to snap. Most of the earth-touched were a patient lot and very slow to anger, but Ulin had something of hairline fault in her temper that had, on more than one occasion, left her raging like a volcano. Normally she wasn't so flappable, preferring to react ponderously rather than brashly. But Usagi's condition had stretched Ulin's nerves thin; she had taken it upon herself to help the displaced youth and up until now, her every effort had been nothing short of one disaster after another. Which was why, in her frustration and impatience for an answer, she reached across the fire, seized the dwarf by the beard and drug him across to all but sit in her lap until his fat nose was pressed firmly against her dainty one.

Something in her eyes must have shaken the dwarf, for she saw fear reflected back at her.

She was about to push the issue further when she felt a delicate weight on her shoulder. It was firm, yet tender at the same time. The sudden sense of peace that washed over her was sign enough that Usagi stood at her back. She reluctantly released the dwarf, and let her chin drop to her chest weakly. Her leg still throbbed in spite of the herbs she ate and drank, as well as the multiple healings that Usagi had given her. After a silent moment, Usagi's hand left her shoulder and Ulin heard her friend's steps retreat back to her fire.

"I apologize, Master Blackhammer. I should not have abused your person in such a manner." Ulin could not meet his eyes. The last thing that she was expecting from him was laughter though. Anger yes, but she was unprepared for his mirth. "Is something funny about my apology, Master Blackhammer?"

Garl waved her to silence and shook his head.

"I'm not laughin' at ye, Lass. If ye were a dwarfmaid, a bit o' beard tuggin' like that would get ye kiss and a bit of a tickle. Not to mention a nice, fat marriage proposal to boot!"

Ulin snorted and then laughed herself. It lasted only a moment though, before her attention was again, inevitably, drawn back to Usagi. Garl stood in the corner of her eye and moved to sit beside her. The silence stretched long between them, all but consuming the noises of the night beneath its weight. The dwarf squirmed a bit and tugged at his beard a lot, but finally he breathed deeply and spoke."

"Ye have to understand, Lass. What happened back at the mines was…well…it's still a bit hard to understand. Even fer those o' us that experienced it first hand."

Ulin remained silent, patiently letting the dwarf speak. The door was open, and the last thing she wanted was to have it shut in her face.

"I'd been stuck in that hole fer almost five years. That goblin kissin' bastard Goruch done stole me mine, and brought in the children so that I wouldn't kill 'im and escape." Garl spit into the fire, causing it to hiss. "The children brought the parents, and they weren't prepared to deal with the numbers o' chickin' lizards that Goruch brought to bear. He'd set the lot of us to pullin' the ore, all the while feedin' us just enough rotten meat and worse to keep us alive and working. I had friends die in me arms, Lass." He pointed over to another cook fire at a man that sat silently staring up at the stars through the open spaces in the trees.

"Stedd Greycastle had his head squished by a cave in." Garl's finger drifted to a stout woman and a portly man surrounded by a number of sedate children. "Kerri Thimble over there, fell to Goruch's monstrous lust and Juhn Reedhold died trying to save her." The stubby finger passed over a half-elf turning a spit. "Taeghen Amalith got himself skewered by a faulty ceiling beam, and Jhessith just beyond him…she done killed herself when she found Goruch's eyes on her one night. He didn't even get the satisfaction of opening the cell door, let alone touchin' her. She done saw him coming and took up a sharpened bit of stone and shoved it into her brainpan." Garl mimed a sharp jabbing motion at his right temple.

Ulin swallowed, but said nothing.

"We all sang for her afterwards and were happy to endure the lash for Goruch's shame and anger of the next few weeks. There's lots of people here that I don't know, but it ain't hard to guess where they come from. Moradin's Hammer, Lass! I was about to enter the halls o' the Mountain King meself, when I heard the sweet song o' her voice." Garl's eyes drifted inevitably towards Usagi, and settled upon her. "Me chest was crushed flat by a nice chunk of stone, and I could hear the sounds of hammers ringing off anvils and me kinsmen chanting the Cadence. But then I feel her, quiet-like at first. But even then she was bright as a forge fire and as warm as me Mum's bosom…and it only got more beautiful the stronger her song became."

His voice fell to little more than a whisper and Ulin, as close as she was to him, had to strain to hear his words.

"'Come back to us.' She said." He dropped his eyes and looked at his hands. "'We cannot abide the day without you.'"

The sorceress looked at Usagi numbly, uncertain of how to digest the dwarf's tale.

"She called to me an' I came back to her. I forsook me kin, and me final rest fer her, and I'll be damned if I know why." The dwarf sighed and pulled on his pipe again. The sweet smelling, blue-gray tobacco smoke drifted from the bowl in a graceful dance.

"Are you afraid that they won't welcome you back?" Ulin dared ask. The dwarf shrugged his shoulders and stared off into the night.

"I turned me back on me father's fathers. That's the type of sin that stains ye fer good."

"I'm sorry for you loss." Ulin laid her hand over his forearm. To her surprise, he patted it companionably and smiled.

"Me grandfather, Baroundyn Blackhammer, told me that fer good or ill we set our hammers to the anvil. Once yer committed to shaping the metal, there's no sense in stoppin' until ye see what's wantin' to be made. Fer good or ill, I'm tied to her. Just like you an' everyone else in this here camp." He smiled again and shrugged. "She called to us and we came. We might as well see where she's going to lead us."

Ulin smiled and nodded her head.

"You're a wise dwarf, Master Blackhammer."

"Bah! Ye'd best be wise and stop callin' me 'Master'." He squeezed her hand and smiled, causing his thick black beard to expose his top lip. "Me name's Garl, an' I'll be expectin' that ye use it, Lass." Ulin returned the gesture.

"Thank you, Garl." She wanted to say more, but the dwarf stood abruptly.

"Bah! Women an' their 'thank you's'…"

The sorceress watched as the dwarf scooped up a large rooty club he'd been carving on lately and stomped off into the shadows of the night. He paused by Usagi's fire and offered a quite word to her before moving on his way again. For a moment Ulin's eyes met Usagi's. There was a sense of longing between them – a need to be comforted and to comfort in turn, but also an uncertainty of just how to answer that need.

Ulin lay awake for many hours contemplating the dilemma with no success.

(oo0/8/0oo)

Continued in Chapter 6b