Twist
of Fate
A Dungeons & Dragons story by Tina Price.
Eleven years have passed and things have not fared well in the Realm.
The Children have long since disbanded, after having abandoned
Dungeon Master and his manipulations. During the years that followed,
good has slowly been consumed by evil...
Disclaimer: Venger, Sheila and all characters therein are the property of the Walt Disney Company.
Natharious
Dawn found the Lord of the Realm dressed in his usual attire and seated in a chair on his balcony before the now-cleared table. He'd been in his current position for close to an hour, leaning back dangerously in his seat with both legs crossed at the ankle and resting upon the table, while his arms were crossed upon his chest. He frowned most impressively, several snaggled teeth protruding from the thin line of his mouth.
He'd found himself beset by an inner turmoil since arising, yet for the life of him he could not seem to find either a reason or a cure for his malady; namely a sudden strong attachment to the lady thief. Worse yet; he actually found himself caring about what had befallen her!
He could still remember the feel of her clinging to him; how good it had been to hold her... Even now, he felt a sickening need to see her, and had already squashed several stray thoughts about inviting her to breakfast.
His frustration over his sudden development of tender feelings gave way to anger.
"Curse the wine!" he growled. "And curse her for having worn that dress! How could I have forgotten that HER things were still in that room? And curse my servants for having left them there and having preserved them as I commanded them to!" Then he stood and nearly bellowed, "And for that matter; since when do they still follow directions given centuries ago?!"
Shadow Demon appeared in front of him and nervously bowed. "Master, is there anything I might do to ease your troubles?" he asked. "Shall I have HER things removed while the thief is out?"
Venger fairly glared at him. "No. We might as well let her have some use of them. Instruct the staff. Now, have my steed saddled up. I've things to attend to in the northern mountains and I daresay that I've tarried too long as it is."
"Yes Master," the demon bobbed and added with glee, "And what shall I tell the lady when she asks after you?"
Venger was startled by the very thought that she should even do such a thing. "Tell her that I am away, dolt!" he shouted, "Now get thee from my sight!"
The shadow demon vaporized on the spot.
In the town of Tyborr, in the west, there lived few experts or specialists. It was a poor town many miles away from the nearest established settlement that could even be called a city. The town had one blacksmith and a population of just twenty-five sentient creatures. But what set the town apart from all the rest was it's transient population; numbering on average fifty people. They came from all over the area and were put up by the locals for small fees or exchange of goods.
As a result of this continuous parade of visitors and the money they paid the locals, Tyborr was no longer nearly as poor as it had been only a year previously. That was when the man all those folk came to see had settled there. A specialist he was, and a good one at that; a rarity in backwoods places like these!
Tall, he was and young, with light brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Gentle and soft-spoken, he had a quiet authority about him that made people want to follow him. His name was Preston, but he preferred to go by his magician's name, Presto. He was skilled at healing, at herbal lore and potions, although the townspeople were quick to note that not even his abilities seemed to have been enough to cure him of his limp. Why he'd settled there, he wouldn't say, but he'd saved so many people that his reputation had quickly grown, as had the number of people lining up to see him daily.
He'd taken on two pupils as well and although they could not perform healing spells as he could, he'd said that teaching them how to diagnose and treat illness would do a world of good in the area once he'd moved on.
Because of this the townspeople understood that he would not be staying, but they still tried their best to sway his mindset. Thus far each attempt by them had been met with a shy smile and a polite shake of the head.
"I've other places to visit," he'd always reply, "But take heart knowing that I will leave you with two skilled healers when I've moved on."
The young magician was well liked not only by the townspeople, but by their daughters as well and more than a few of those young ladies had tried to catch his eye during the last year. Unfortunately for them, aside from giving them an appreciative look or two, Presto had politely explained that he was too busy with his studies to make a good beau at this moment in his life...
And that had earned him their fathers' respect.
It may have been the soft jingle of the wind chimes outside the door that first woke him, but Presto immediately knew that something in his little cabin wasn't right.
Slowly reaching out, he grasped the staff that he kept beside his bedroll and rolled suddenly, coming to his knees even as he pointed it and yelled a word of power.
At the instant he conjured the spell a second voice rang out, countering it while lighting all the candles in the room.
Presto stared at his visitor in shock and then lowered his staff. "Dungeon Master?" he asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"It has been a long time, magician. I am pleased to see how well you have done on your own." He walked closer and looked Presto over. "Your abilities are impressive; more so that you were not born of this world."
"Why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me what brings you here," Presto replied tersely, dropping his staff and sitting to pull on his artificial leg.
Dungeon Master nodded. "I am here on behalf of one you once cared for; the thief you once traveled with."
"Sheila?" Presto's expression lightened. "I'm glad to hear that she's alive. She hasn't fallen ill, has she?"
"No, young magician, but a life does hang in the balance and you are the only one near enough to save them." Before Presto could question him, he continued, "In the castle of Venger, to the north is where you must be. And this person must be saved or the entire Realm is lost. I would not be entreating you to go if the situation was not dire, but if you succeed in your mission, you will be amply rewarded with something you seek."
"Something I seek?" he repeated. "Can we for once dispense with the riddles?"
The little man sighed. "The one you save will be the master you seek in your search for knowledge. Time grows short while we talk; you must leave now or you will not arrive in time!"
Presto blinked as he tried to decide his course of action; everything in him told him to mistrust this little gnome who had cost him so much. Still, he had long hoped to find a powerful mage willing to take him on as his apprentice and he was being pointed right at one. Besides, if Sheila was involved, then could he really afford not to take the high road on this one?
Still, the Dungeon Master was known by him to be manipulative. He had no way of knowing if this was yet another carrot being dangled before him.
Climbing to his feet, he was about to ask a few questions of his shifty little visitor, but found when he looked down that the fellow had vanished.
"Figures!" He said, then dressed and went in search of his students. It was time to let them know that he was leaving.
Sheila awoke late in the morning, feeling well rested but nervous. She distinctly remembered dreaming that Venger had held her in his arms and stroked her hair while she relaxed and drifted off to sleep.
Why would she dream such a thing?
Adding to her discomfort were memories of the evening before and worse yet; an eagerness to see him again.
He had spoken of being drawn to her and she could definitely sympathize, for she likewise felt herself being drawn to him. Why? Was it the lure of a powerful male? Was it his intelligence? Was it the fact that he had lived for so very long a time that it was awe-inspiring when she thought of it? Was it his uniqueness?
She sighed. It seemed that all those might be factors. Still, she felt something more, something that had everything to do with the personality buried in that winged form and hidden deeply away from the world. Yet, she had seen that hidden person just last night and she wondered why it was that he'd let his guard down around her.
Well, duh, she thought; it's because he sees something in you as well!
After a light, but wonderful brunch, she took time to enjoy a bath in the huge sunken tiled pool in her room and then dressed in one of her own simple gowns. Then, brushing out her hair, she left her room, determined not to seek out the castle's master.
Venger had joined his troops in the north, at the Crystal Mountains well before noon, courtesy of his demon steed's traveling abilities and had thereafter become embroiled in one of the bloodiest battles of his long life.
The Crystal Mountains were, for the most part, uninhabitable. The soil was barren and difficult to work with. Only the most skilled farmers could coax crops to grow in it, and then only with the aid of massive supplements.
The mountains were steep and difficult to build upon, making settlements rare and very far between. No mages lived here, for the Crystal Mountains had another property; the massive crystals that grew, razor-sharp from the ground were anathema to magic. They dampened it, absorbing it from the very air itself and turning the area into a huge dead zone for magic users like Venger.
Still, that traitor, Darius, had fled here years ago after a major attempt upon his life and it was only recently that he had been confirmed to be living in these mountains and in charge of this stronghold. Venger had suspected as much; there were few places in the Realm where anyone could escape his notice if he sought them and these mountains were the best of the lot.
The lizard knight could not be suffered to live after his betrayal. Adding insult to injury had been his discovery that the creature had apparently been working for his enemies all along. A spy in the camp of Venger could not be tolerated and thus an example would be made of him, no matter how many years had passed.
Unfortunately, because of the nature of this place, a conventional fight was called for; Venger's magic only strong enough to enable him to shield himself. Yet, despite the fact that his magic was all but useless here, he'd learned a thing or two from other non-magical worlds...
It hadn't taken long to organize his army. Under the derisive cries of those inside the fortress city, he'd had multiple cannons, imported across the interdimensional void at much personal cost on his part, positioned around his enemy.
Once he'd had the weapons placed, he'd waited, allowing his enemies' fear to grow as the anticipation became unbearable. Then, after nightfall, he'd flown off on his Nightmare beyond the dampening influence of the mountains and summoned a storm, one that would reach peak intensity as it barreled right over the stronghold.
In the black of night, with their torches quenched by wind and rain, the fortress' archers could do little damage. Not so his cannons; the first volley obliterated the fortress gates and several turrets, while the second blasted another entrance in the side of the outer wall.
His orc soldiers swarmed into the fortified city while he rode in near the rear of the first brigade. Mounted upon his Nightmare, he wore his armor of old and carried his sword, Dybbuk, for he'd once been the greatest knight in the Realm, though his history had long since faded from mortal memory.
Venger's goals in risking an early charge into the mealy was two fold; he dare not fly in directly, for an arrow could easily breach his magical defenses and armor in this place. Secondly, he knew that the sight of him close up and mounted on his Nightmare would unnerve the enemy and put many to route. In addition to his unique size and appearance, his armor and sword, which had both once been silver, were now an eerie black, shimmering like smoke with the power of the spells they held; spells which even the crystals of this place could not easily drain.
It turned out that his intention to spook the enemy worked well, for as rode out into their masses, killing efficiently, brutally and swiftly, the enemy panicked and began to withdraw, running scared before him and the Orcs.
Instructing his troops to continue the fight and take no soldier prisoner, he rode off in search of his prey, bellowing Darius' name loudly enough that his voice reverberated off the city walls.
By nightfall, Sheila was feeling somewhat restless. She'd neither seen the castle's master nor received any invitation from him to share a meal. It was late indeed when she actually got up the nerve to ask a chambermaid if she'd seen him.
"No, Miss," the woman replied. "I believe he set out at dawn to see to some pressing business in the north, or so I've heard."
"Thanks," she'd replied, trying to cover her disappointment.
After dinner, which was served up in her room, she spent the remainder of the evening in the garden. She began with a leisurely walk through it in which she again admired the plants and trees. Much later she ended up sitting on a small wall that surrounded a raised bed.
She could see Venger's balcony from her position and watched it and his windows for any sign of his return even as she tried to make sense of her feelings from the night before.
A strange anxiety was slowly building in her; almost a sense of deja-vu. Somehow she felt she'd been down this road before...
Venger, atop his Nightmare, had traveled far enough into the mountain fortress' city that the sounds and sights of battle were left behind. He followed his instincts; a strange sort of sixth sense that usually allowed him to find those he sought, even without the use of magic.
Several further twists and turns down the narrow city streets brought him to a dead end and the base of one of the tallest buildings. His steed snorted nervously as he frowned, realizing that he should have seen some evidence of the townspeople, even if only to see them ducking out of sight at their windows as he passed.
He glanced up at the building before him; his instincts telling him that this was where his prey hid. Unfortunately both his intellect and instincts were also telling him that he'd walked into a trap.
He quickly weighed his options. The windows were too high for him to fly to while dressed in battle armor and he somehow knew that something lay in wait right around the corner should he try to leave the alley.
There were however, three doors in front of him; one into the building he was drawn to, the other two into the buildings on either side of him. He needed his spy to tell him which would prove the most worthwhile entrance.
"Shadow Demon!" he bellowed.
His servant appeared before him, bowing. "Yes, Master?"
"How goes the battle?"
"The Orcs are winning and have nearly overrun the enemy," he reported. "However, something strange is occurring atop the turrets..."
"That's not the only place!" came a hissing voice from above."
Venger looked up just in time to see several large bundles falling from the rooftops around him, thrown down by his enemy and his followers.
Turning the Nightmare around, he galloped away, a sudden sickening notion of what was about to befall him overriding his concerns about the ambush that lay waiting ahead of him at the alley entrance.
Somehow he knew he wouldn't make it that far and he boomed a word of power, drawing on all his magical reserves, those of his armor and his steed as well. The spell activated at the same time that the bundles hit the ground behind him.
He never even heard the explosion that reduced the alleyway to rubble and engulfed him.
When he regained consciousness, the first thing he smelled was gunpowder and charred flesh. Dimly, beneath the loud ringing in his ears, he could make out the sound of lizardmen hissing and cursing in pain. It was only then that he realized he was being dragged bodily out of the rubble that now was the remains of the alley.
His chest hurt, his broken ribs protesting every breath he took and he was fairly certain that an arm and wing had likewise suffered breaks. He knew he'd been burnt badly as well; his wings had become nothing more than two tattered curtains of agony.
Still, being well acquainted with agony, he conquered his pain enough to remain silent and kept his eyes closed so that his adversaries wouldn't realize he was awake. Yet, every drag of his burned extremities over rough debris was pushing him closer to his limits.
What exactly had happened? Gunpowder; somehow his enemies had discovered the formula and made their own supply! No doubt, the work of spies or disloyal troops willing to sell his secrets to the highest bidder, he thought. Well, he would take care of that soon enough, but first… he had to get out of this dangerous predicament. In this place his Master's power was not available for his use and he was as mortal as those he fought.
"I think hisss dead," came the sibilant voice of one of his captors.
"He better not be or the massssster will have our ssskinsss," replied another.
Obviously, he was being dragged by lizardmen and from what he could tell, there were at most, three of them. He could hear the rest of their squad moaning and groaning somewhere behind him; no doubt hurt by the explosion or flying debris. That meant that he had awakened before they'd had a chance to drag him very far or before they could meet up with more of their kind.
His sword; did he still have it on him?
There was a chance that his captors might not have noticed it beneath his wings, for he'd had it sheathed at the time of the explosion.
Fortunately, he soon got his answer. A clang from his left, that sounded like metal on stone and another lizardman spoke, "His sssword is ssstrange; it burns to the touch!"
"Then sssheath it, you fool!" snapped the one holding his left arm. He promptly let go of his prisoner to go help his comrade. Now Venger found himself held by only his right upper arm and he was no longer being dragged forward.
Fast as lightening, he opened his eyes, lunged and made a left-handed grab for his sword, his remaining captor too stunned to restrain his sudden movement.
"Look out!" Yelled the lizardman as he torqued Venger's broken arm.
Too late.
The lizardman with his sword had been in the act of re-sheathing tit, which put the handle in a perfect position for Venger to grasp. With a horrifying bellow of agony, he did so, yanking it free and then arched it forward as he came to his feet. Although he felt weak, the blow with momentum behind it was powerful enough to dispatch the lizardman who had just let go of his left arm. With a scream, the man died.
Bringing the pommel of the sword backwards, he struck it full force against the head of the man still torquing his broken arm. With a cry, he went down clutching his skull and Venger gutted him in retribution.
When he turned to confront the last lizardman, he saw that his remaining foe was running far ahead, up the street.
Just then Shadow Demon reappeared. "Master! I have summoned help; your Orcs are fighting through the last of our foes!"
"Where is my Nightmare?"
"Gone back to its dimension to lick its wounds, Master. It may not return for some time."
Leaning against a wall, Venger inspected his charred armor. The last spell he'd cast, drawing forth its power to summon a magic barrier had produced a spell only just strong enough to save his life. The drained armor had been left vulnerable to the explosion. Still, even twisted plate metal was better than none and he opted to leave it on rather than lighten his burden and discomfort.
"Locate Darius and the best path to him," he commanded.
"But Master, you are badly injured. You should heal yourself and then continue the battle," the demon protested.
"Do as I say or face the consequences!" Venger bellowed, causing his demon servant to immediately dissipate. The Shadow Demon's suggestion was the safest one, but he knew he was already running out of energy and blood. It would take him many days to heal and he could not risk his foe eluding him, especially when he had the secret to the Earth's gunpowder!
He would rather kill Darius now, even if he risked his own oblivion.
Moments later, as he hid in the shadows of an adjourning street, the shadow demon reappeared and pointed him towards a door several buildings down on his left. He didn't have to wonder if it was unlocked; the demon knew full well not to bother with the locked ones.
As he entered the building he found a staircase directly before him.
"Master, this will take you to the roof, which is a floor higher than the building your foe hides in," the demon explained. "If you are able, a jump of one story and over the eight foot gap between buildings will take you to him."
Venger thought it over for a moment, gingerly testing his wings. They wouldn't provide much wind resistance and it would hurt like hell, but if he could brace the broken one...
"I will get across," he growled, moving towards the stairs. "Check the area and tell me where my enemies lurk!"
After the demon disappeared, he wrapped his good arm around his ribs and began taking the steps two at a time. He was winded and in agony by the time he reached the top landing.
Cracking the door open, he looked out onto the roof. It seemed to be clear, but it would be best if he did what needed doing here, rather than in the open.
Sitting, he braced his burned back against the wall and began removing his armor. As much as he hated to do so, he now had no choice; in his condition he would never make the jump carrying the extra weight.
Once off, he removed several of the securing straps, then ripped off one of the long metal plates from the armor's belly. Placing it over his sword, which he lay edge up on the floor, he bent the plate lengthwise.
Then he gingerly extended his broken wing before him with the end touching the floor. The break was on his fore-digit, just past the wrist joint. He had to use the thumb of his other wing to help steady it so he could straighten it out. The pain was dizzying, but worse was yet to come.
Picking up his sword, he punched four holes through the wing membrane just the other side of the bone; two on each side of the break. Shaking and sweating, covered in his own blood, he then placed the bent metal plate over the break and bound it tightly in place by passing the four straps through the cuts and buckling them around the plate covered wing bone.
Then he tested it.
It hurt like hell, but the bone stayed straight enough. It would allow him to glide enough to assist his jump across the building roofs.
"Master," Shadow Demon addressed him after appearing from the surrounding darkness. "The lizardmen who sought you have been killed by your Orcs. I led them to our enemy!"
"And Darius?" he hissed.
"He is still in the upper room of the building I lead you to. He has five guards with him."
Venger smiled evilly. "Tell me; does he have any large sacks in that room?"
"He does, Master; many sacks!"
Venger's smile grew even larger.
Moments later, he was leaping from one roof top to the other and landing lightly enough not to alert his enemy, despite the pain in his all his broken bones, most especially his wing.
Then, gripping the roof edge, he flipped over, crashing feet first through the large window of the room below.
Darius came to his feet, genuinely shocked to see him alive, much less standing in the room and holding a lit torch. Immediately, comprehension of the situation could be seen crossing the Lizard General's face. "Guards; kill him!" he screamed.
With a loud laugh, Venger threw the torch directly at a sack across the room and flung himself from the window.
A stray arrow hit him on his way out, but he still managed to glide down to street level and around the corner, where he landed and ducked behind the rubble of his earlier misfortunes just as the building's upper level lit up.
The explosion was large enough to destroy the entire building, crumbling the lower half to rubble and shaking the city violently. Venger somehow regained his feet and laughed heartily at the fitting end his enemy had met... until something landed with a thud in the street beside him.
Surprised, his eyes not yet adapted to the dark after witnessing the brilliant fireball, he had to approach the object closely to make out what it was.
It was a woman, apparently blown out a window somewhere above and she was quite obviously dead from the fall. He wasn't certain why, but something made him turn her over and look at her face.
"No!!!" he screamed. Then his strength gave out and he knew no more.
"No!!!"
The scream came again from the back of the wagon.
"What wrong wit him?" asked an Orc, marching behind.
"Don't know," came another Orc's reply. "The shadow demon say he no know either!"
Shadow Demon himself heard them and glided into the wagon, where he hovered over his master, deeply concerned for his life. The army was making for the foothills, far enough away that the crystals in these mountains could no longer prevent him from healing himself.
The question was; would they be in time?
As he watched, his master writhed on the hay bedding of the wagon and cried out again. He'd lost much blood and suffered many injuries, including an arrow to the leg, but nothing could explain the ghastly nightmare he seemed to be having.
"Hold on Master," he said aloud. "We will be out of the mountains by nightfall."
Three nights later, Venger stood brokenly atop a nearby peak, having borrowed a mundane horse to make the trek. He still felt poorly; his wing and arm still in slings and his ribs still tightly bound, but he was making progress. In a few more days he should be strong enough to use the spells he had in mind.
Then he could leave this place far behind.
Yet, he could never leave behind the horror he'd seen in the city, for when he'd turned the dead woman over and seen her face, he'd seen that she was the spitting image of his long lost love.
Who was she? Why was this affecting him so?
"To think that she died in such a way..." he breathed, heartbroken after three long days and nights of dreams in which he had relived the greatest tragedy of his life. He was haunted by her face and saw her dead, bleeding body everywhere he turned.
And he was exhausted; tired in body, mind... and yes, soul.
"Why? Why now?" he mused aloud. In truth he suspected that being cut off from his master in those mountains had reawakened a part of him long dormant and left him vulnerable to so human a trait as sorrow.
The only thing that had kept him sane through his nightmares were thoughts of the little thief who awaited his return to his castle. Only her living face could counter the dead one he now saw everywhere and the memories he did not want.
Five days after Venger had departed, Sheila found herself running out of places to explore. She'd already learned almost every nook and cranny of her new home by heart and was now rapidly becoming overwhelmed with boredom.
To her great humiliation, she'd taken to climbing the tower stairs each night so that she could stand at the castle's highest point each evening and search the skies for signs of Venger's return.
What was he up to? What occupied so much of his time?
On the sixth night, as she leaned on the tower wall and scanned the nights, she heard a slight scuff behind her and turned to find none other than Nate standing behind her and trying to catch his breath from the climb up.
"Oh," he panted. "I didn't realize this tower was taken."
The humorous tone he took made her laugh immediately and move to greet him.
"Nate! I'm so glad to see you," she said, taking the hand he offered her. "When did you arrive?"
"Only moments ago," he replied smiling warmly at her. "I love the view from this tower and having nothing pressing to attend to, I thought I'd make it a visit."
She let go his hand. "That's pretty much why I'm here as well."
"Well, it's good that you're not pining and searching for the master," he said, obviously joking, but then added in a serious tome, "I've heard that he was nearly killed in the Crystal Mountains and may not return for quite some time."
Sheila was stunned. "Nearly killed? What was he doing?"
"A war, I believe, against an old foe," Nate replied, studying her carefully.
She managed to compose herself, covering up her concern with a question, "How do you know all this if he's so far away?"
He laughed. "His shadow demon is his courier, bearing news where he wishes. Of course, the Master does not wish word of his serious condition to reach many ears, but I was privileged with that bit of information."
"Why; and don't you think he'll be upset to hear that you're spreading the word around?" she asked.
"Not at all. He told me because he wished me to inform you."
It just didn't make sense to her and Sheila turned her back to him while she thought it over. Why would Venger go out of his way to tell her of his condition? Could it be because he would not be able to protect her until he returned? Was that why he'd told the man he'd warned her to stay clear of, and not her directly; because Nate was to protect her?"
She tuned to find the hunter's eyes wandering over her and he quickly straightened, pretending to be looking at the scenery. Hiding her amusement she asked the thousand dollar question, "Why did he send his demon to you with this news, rather than to me?"
Nate seemed both surprised and confused by her question. "I... I'm not certain and now that you mention it, that is odd."
"Odder than you might think when you consider that Venger warned me to stay away from you," she replied, squinting at him in the bright sunlight.
"Why would he warn you away from me?" The hunter asked, stretching an arm and groaning.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, but he quickly nodded that he wasn't and she continued. "He seemed to think that you and I were much too friendly."
At that he laughed. "Well now, very little is making sense to me after hearing that!"
"What else did he have the shadow demon tell you?" she asked.
"Just to bring the news to you and remain here until he returned."
She nodded to herself. It seemed likely that Nate was meant to protect her from the castle's Orcs and anyone else who might think about harming her. Just having the large hunter around would prove a deterrent. And of course, Venger wouldn't give away that he cared enough to do such a thing, so Nate was left in the dark about his real purpose in being here.
Well, if he wasn't questioning why he had to stay, then she wasn't about to bring it up.
"I'm glad to see you again, Nate," she said with a smile. "Perhaps, if you aren't too busy, we can get together now and then."
"I'd like that," he replied. "This place can be very boring at times. One quickly becomes tired of watching the Orcs beating each other."
She laughed. "Oh! I thought I was the only one amused by their antics!"
"No, but trust me, it won't remain amusing long." As she made to leave, he cleared his throat. "Sheila, I need to get some sleep; I've been traveling a long time, but perhaps tomorrow we might meet for lunch?"
She nodded. "I could really use the company."
"How about noon, in the great hall?"
She nodded. "OK. Pleasant dreams, Nate!"
Then she took the steps, but her elation over having company was far overshadowed by worry over Venger.
Lunch in the great hall with Nate was wonderful; she again had good company during an excellent meal and the man, though nearly as somber as Venger, proved to have a sharp sense of the absurd and a wicked wit.
After they'd eaten, he surprised her by pulling a chess set out of the box he'd brought with him.
"That is a earth game!" she exclaimed. "Where did you get it?"
He looked uncomfortable. Lord Venger brought it back on his last visit to your world, but he never learned how to play, so I was given it as a curiosity."
She had to force herself to close her mouth. "Venger takes trips to my world?"
"Yes," Nate answered. "But only on rare occasion and it isn't easy for him, either. Were I you, I would not risk his anger by asking him to send you back."
She sighed and sagged in her chair. "I haven't a life there anymore. Besides, too many unanswerable questions would be raised if I ever tried to contact my family again."
Watching her, Nate's expression softened. "I'm sorry; it never occurred to me that your family would be lost to you, regardless."
She sighed. "It's water under the bridge now. Besides, I'd never be able to face them after what happened to my little brother."
"What happened to him?"
She shook her head. "He died and it was my fault. That's all you need to know. Now then, you want to learn how to play?"
She could see him looking at her strangely, no doubt wondering how she could change the subject so abruptly, suggesting they play a game, no less.
"I'm always eager to learn new games," he replied with a touch of irony.
When she began setting up the board, he took her hand. "How do you do it?" he asked. "How do you face such adversity; your brother's death, poverty, abandonment and still have so kind a heart?"
"You mean you don't know?" she asked. At his shake of the head, she continued, "It's called faith."
Nate frowned. "Religion..."
She shook her head sadly. "Not just that kind of faith," she replied. "Faith in your fellow man, faith in yourself and faith in a better future if you live your life right and have the courage to follow your dreams."
"And what have you done in the way of following your dreams?" he asked. "When I first met up with you you'd still been recently working yourself near to death as a cook."
"Ah," she sighed. "I was only just getting up the courage to start doing that when Kareena summoned me."
Nate leaned forward eagerly, tightening his hold on her hand. "And what is your dream, Sheila?" he asked.
She shook her head sadly. "I think I'll keep that to myself for now. We were talking about faith, weren't we? Let me just add that without it, t'would be easy to rail against fate and become bitter, uncaring and self centered. Once that happens, all that follows is downhill!"
Nate helped her set up the board then, a pensive look upon his face.
They spent hours at chess and Nate turned out to be a very intelligent and quick learner. After a short time, their games took over an hour and he soon had his first win. She could never forget the proud look on his face when she'd tipped her king, sat back and told him he was amazing.
By then they'd been shocked to see it was dinnertime and the servants had bustled about serving them right there where their lunch had been taken.
Another three hours had been spent at the table, eating, drinking and talking. She'd quickly found a warm spot in her heart for the handsome hunter and was very glad to have such a friend to spend the long hours with.
She still wondered if he were meant to be more than a friend, though, for the Ring of the Heart still reacted to his touch as well as his presence. When he'd taken her hand, it had nearly burned her.
After finally quitting the table, he'd taken her for a walk around the outskirts of the castle, the moonlight providing them plenty of illumination. They'd talked quite a bit about their lives and gotten to know each other better; finding that they had quite a bit in common.
During that walk, she'd actually gotten up the courage to ask him something that had been bothering her ever since Venger had brought it up.
"Nate, I was told that you once had a wife. What happened to her?"
He'd stopped walking. "I made a mistake," he'd replied after what seemed to be a great struggle. "She didn't really like me much when we first met, but for me it was love at first sight. I became obsessed and spent as much time as any man could spend wooing her. In the end, I got my wish; she did fall in love with me." He'd looked at her in the eye then, his own haunted and sorrowful. "That was when I turned my attention and ambitions elsewhere; always off doing this or that, never at home with her. By the time I realized I truly needed her, she was not willing to sacrifice much for me." Then he'd faced away from her and she could see that he was shaking. "I'm sorry; I cannot say more. It is still too much for me. All you need know is that she died shortly thereafter."
Sheila had quickly moved to comfort him, but when she placed her hand on his shoulder, he'd flinched away violently with a gasp.
"I'm sorry," she'd whispered, not knowing what else to do, but then he'd turned to face her.
"It grows late. We should retire. I'm not angry with you for asking, Sheila. You should know more about me. Now let us head back to our warm beds."
He'd offered her his arm, then escorted her to her chamber door. With a kiss of her hand and a bow, he'd bid her goodnight and left.
And here she was, ready for bed and mulling over the events of the day.
"Lady! May I come in?"
She jumped, instantly recognizing the voice. "Yes," she called out.
Venger's shadow demon entered the room.
"The Master has sent me to tell you that he is returning and will see you on the morrow."
She nodded. "Is he well?"
"Yes." And on that note the demon dissipated.
With a sigh of anticipation, she went to bed, but once there she tossed and turned, far too excited to sleep.
An hour later, she gave up trying, got dressed and headed off to spend some time in the Garden.
As she entered it, she took a deep breath and sighed. It was a perfect night; only one moon, the largest one, shown in the sky at the moment and it was full, it's light only just enough to illuminate the garden when the tike torches were out, as they currently were. A light, fragrant cool breeze blew intermittently and she could hear the chirping of the insects that passed as crickets in this world.
The night was fresh, beautiful and invigorating, making her feel carefree for the first time in many long years. Oh, to have someone to share it with!
"Well now; to think I thought it couldn't be a more perfect night," came Nate's voice behind her. He'd apparently just entered the garden himself. "I'm glad to see I was wrong," he added.
She waiting for him near the fragrant dragonsheart bush and when he reached her, she held out a hand. "You flatter me too much and too often," she replied.
Nate took her hand and to her surprise pulled her close. "And you seem to have no idea of how deeply you affect me."
She looked up at him, searching his handsome face. "I don't know what it is about you," she breathed. "But I feel that I've known you a long time."
"Which is very odd, yet very encouraging, since I feel the same way about you," he replied. "Perhaps we've met in a different life?"
Sheila giggled. "I don't believe in that."
"Well, I do," he said. "It happens, though very rarely and I've seen it proven."
"Oh really; when?"
"It has been said that on several occasions over the course of his long life, that Lord Venger has encountered someone known to him in their previous life. It has also been said that although they were born to new forms, yet they were still tied to him by fate."
"I was present when he once met such a person..."
"What happened?" she asked, riveted by the tale.
"He performed some spell that scried their mind, allowing him to bring forth memories from their previous life. He proved them to be who he thought they once had been..."
"What happened to them then?" she asked.
"Well, since this particular person turned out to be an old enemy of his, who was again conspiring against him, it is said that he inviting the man to dinner and only afterwards killed him"
She stared at him in horror, more so since he'd worn a familiar looking smirk as he'd told her the tale's outcome. "Sometimes you remind me of him," she said quickly.
He looked stunned. "Who; Lord Venger?"
"Yes. I can't fully explain it, but without a doubt there are similarities; the way you talk, your expression sometimes and the fact that you've something of a cruel streak. Are you by chance related to him?"
He laughed at that. "Not a chance." Then he cupped her cheek with his palm, his expression growing serious. "So I remind you of the dark one, do I? How unflattering! I think that I shall have to firmly divide us in your mind..."
Before she could react, he'd bent down and claimed her lips as his other arm snaked around her pulling her close. The kiss started out lightly, his lips teasingly brushing her own and then it deepened.
Her eyes slid shut and her legs seemed to turn to jelly as her heart pounded and explosions of sensation went off in her head. She quickly found herself kissing him back and as the kiss deepened further, his tongue probed her mouth, stealing away her reason.
She'd never been kissed like this before; it was as though he knew exactly what to do to put her over the edge, but thoughts of Venger suddenly filled her head. Behind her eyelids, she saw his crimson eyes and remembered how he'd held her.
Knowing that she was a fool to pass up Nate for a fiend, she struggling suddenly, pushing him away. Only then did she become aware of the Ring of the Heart burning her finger.
She ignored it and shook her head, confused and upset by the turn her thoughts had taken. "I'm sorry, Nate... We shouldn't have done that."
When he spoke his voice was none to steady, "Why not, when we are so drawn to each other? I believe that you must indeed be someone I once knew; there was only one woman who ever..."
"Ever what?" she asked when she realized that he wasn't about to continue the sentence.
He shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he replied. "Now explain to me why it is that you feel we shouldn't have kissed; I know you felt it as strongly as I did!"
She felt painfully embarrassed, uncertain of how much she should tell him and found herself struggling to find words. "You're a good friend and..." She couldn't go on.
He lifted her chin. "Just tell me the truth," he whispered, sounding wary.
She sighed. "You'll hate me for this, but... when you kissed me, all I could think of was Venger."
He looked positively stunned, his mouth even moving without producing any words. "Lord Venger; you were thinking of him?" he eventually managed to choke out. At her positive nod, he dropped his hands. "What is he to you? What are you to him?" he asked in a neutral voice, without any bitterness or anger in his tone.
"I don't know," she stammered. "I really don't. Maybe I'm crazy or the victim of some spell, but I really cannot explain why I feel the way I do about him..."
Nate turned his back to her. "If what you say is true, then he may feel the same about you. Should Lord Venger hear that I kissed you, he will more than likely kill me."
"What? Why should he do such a thing?" she asked, suddenly very frightened.
"That one will brook no rivals!" He turned to face her again and his eyes looked strangely different; they shone brightly in the moonlight, giving him an expression of extreme excitement.
"He warned me not to associate with you when I first arrived," she related. "but he also said that it did not matter to him if I took his advice or not."
Nate laughed. "Of course it wouldn't matter to him; if he finds that you didn't heed his advice, he will merely make it a moot point!"
Just then the ring on her finger contracted sharply, making her gasp and clutch her finger.
"What's wrong?" he asked, turning her loose and stepping back.
The ring pulsed sharply again, making her grunt. As she held her finger she notice that the ring was becoming visible and she turned her back to him, trying to hide it. "It's nothing; just a finger that sometimes hurts," she replied.
Before she could move away, he'd grabbed her arm and spun her around so that he could take a look. The gasp he made alerted her that all was not right and when he spoke, it was with narrowed eyes and a grim expression. "The Ring of the Heart! Where did you get it? Lord Venger has been searching everywhere for it!"
"His sister gave it to me," she replied. "She said it was mine."
He stared at her in surprise and then ran a finger over the ring's garnet stone. It reacted immediately to his touch, throbbing very unpleasantly this time. "Owww!" she cried, clutching at it once more.
"Perhaps you should remove it?" he asked, looking deeply concerned.
"No! I was told not to." Seeing his hand moving towards her finger again she added sharply, "And there is no use in trying to take it from me; it cannot be taken unless it wishes it!"
He stopped.
"I just wish I knew why it has suddenly become visible, " she breathed, rubbing her finger.
"Perhaps it causes you pain and reveals itself because it wishes me to have it?" Nate asked. "Will you allow me to at least try?"
Not believing that to be the case, she nonetheless nodded her assent and to her surprise the ring let him easily slip it off her finger!
"How is this possible?" she gulped. She again remembered that Kareena had said that the ring would guide her to the one she was meant to be with. This had to mean that he was the one!
"Apparently the ring is now meant for me," Nate replied, as he hesitantly slid it on his finger.
It amazed Sheila to see that it had expanded to just the right size to fit him and the moment he had it on, it vanished even as it had when she'd first received it. "It is yours..." she breathed. "Only be very careful not to let Venger have it! Kareena told me that such a thing would have dire consequences for us all!"
He looked at her in alarm and she was shocked to see the color draining from his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
His eyes looked panicked for a split second when they met hers. "It shows me things I do not wish to see. I should not have put it on..."
"Then take it off!"
He tried, but the ring would not budge. "It will not let me," he grunted and then added, "I think it best that we part now before we are discovered. I will see you tomorrow and we can talk more of this then."
"No," she breathed. "Venger will be back tomorrow; his demon was sent to tell me!"
Nate frowned. "He may send me away as soon as he arrives, but somehow I will find a way to see you before I must leave, if I must leave."
"Just send the word. Now get going and be careful!" she told him. "If he finds out you have the ring..."
"He won't."
"You don't know that! Perhaps you should go out hunting so that you will have an excuse not to see him."
He merely smiled. "How long do you think I could put off a meeting if he asks for me? And where could I run that he will not find me?" When her face fell at the thought, he laid a hand against her cheek, whispering, "Be brave little thief and all will turn out well."
Then he turned and headed for the garden entrance at the far end while she backtracked towards the one she had entered through.
She'd only just re-entered her room when a voice emanating from a darkened corner made her jump in alarm.
"So! For a single kiss, the thief gives the hunter the Ring of the Heart and thinks that the Master will not know!"
Sheila's heart nearly stopped, so frightened was she, but she was not about to simply give up without at least trying to sway the little demon snitch. "Please don't tell him!" she pleaded.
The demon laughed at her. "He knows already!" he replied with glee. "The Master has returned!" he said, as he vanished.
In desperation, she left her chamber and went in search of Venger. Perhaps she would be able to reason with him and save Nate's life.
She spent over an hour looking for him, and then another hour trying to find Nate, but the servants all looked at her oddly when she asked where his room might be. Some shook their heads and walked off, while others made signs against evil and backed away. Yet another said that there was no hunter living in the castle.
Finally giving up, despondent and heart sick, she entered the empty throne room and stood on its large balcony, watching as the wind picked up and clouds grew thick, obscuring the moon.
The night was no longer as promising as it had been a short time ago and her fear for Nate struggled with her concern over Venger's injuries. She'd wanted to see him so badly; to reassure herself that he had healed, but if he was about to harm her friend, then she didn't think she'd ever willingly look at him again.
She wasn't certain how long she'd been there, but the wind had grown strong enough to whip her hair when his deep voice rumbled behind her, making her jump.
"A storm is approaching."
She nodded and replied, "For all of us" and then turned to look at him.
He walked past her to the railing and leaned upon it. He was not wearing his helmet and his long black hair blew like a dark cloud behind him as his skirt whipped around his legs. She noticed how he gripped the stone rail when he reached it and how tightly his wings were wrapped about him; as though he were hugging himself. Only then did she notice the damage to them; they were torn at the lower edges and punched through with holes. Gruesome burns covered at least a third of their visible surface and in recently healed areas, their velvet black color was merely a sickly gray.
She spoke almost without thinking, surprised by the concern evident in her voice. "My God! Are you all right?"
He nodded. "I've suffered worse and will finish healing soon enough." He turned enough to look back at her over one shoulder, then straightened and faced her directly, his face as tense as the line of his form. "What is this man to you that you would give him the Ring of the Heart?"
"What must I answer to keep you from harming him?" she countered.
He took a step towards her and then stopped and demanded in a snarl, "What is it that you feel for him?"
"Friendship! I do not feel for him what I feel for you, OK?" she retorted, fear giving way to anger that she should be questioned as though she were his child.
His expression changed from indignation to one of smug satisfaction. "And what might that be?" he asked in a softer tone.
She turned away from him and sighed, "I don't know... It's very confusing."
After what seemed an eternity, she felt his hands come down on her, his long fingers gently kneading her shoulders. "Yet you did kiss him..."
"He kissed me; I did not kiss him."
Venger sighed, his fingers suddenly sliding down to grip her arms tightly. "Only give to me what you allowed him and for your sake I will not harm the man, but understand that neither will I allow him the freedom to roam my castle."
Sheila tensed up, relieved that Nate would live but deeply upset that it would be as a prisoner. "I won't remove the ring from his finger for you. You should know that it cannot be taken by force and now resides where it wishes to be."
He spun her around to face him and to her surprise he was smiling. "I was not speaking of the ring."
What was he talking about, she wondered, thinking back to her meeting with Nate. Then his words made sense and she blushed furiously.
"You're too tall; I... I can't reach you," she stammered, too nervous and confused to think up a better excuse not to give in.
He lifted his tattered wings and she noted that one was broken and splinted. Then he knelt gracefully before her, putting his face on a level with her own as he moved his hands from her shoulders to her waist.
"Well?" he rumbled.
She was actually shaking as she leaned towards him and brought her mouth to his.
In a flash, one of his hands moved to cup the back of her head, holding her to him as he took advantage and deepened the kiss.
And what a kiss it was!
It felt as though she were back in the garden with Nate kissing her, so similarly did the kisses begin, but this kiss quickly went far beyond and grew to a level of intensity that left her mindlessly wanting more. Sharp teeth brushed over her lips without hurting her as a rough tongue explored her hungrily.
She felt herself responding with her own tongue and teeth as she held him tightly. When he slowly leaned back, she let him take her with him until he was kneeling with her in his lap and still the kiss continued, turning into another and then another.
It was only when he groaned in a deep rumble and she felt him rising beneath her that she began to come back to her senses. Somehow, she pried her mouth away and found herself staring into hooded crimson eyes. All malice and pretense seemed to be gone from them; all she saw reflected in their depths now was desire... and even admiration.
"I've missed you far more than I should," he breathed, trailing lazy kisses over her cheek to her ear, which he suddenly nibbled.
She squealed and pressed against him reflexively.
"Have you cast some spell upon me, little thief?" he murmured next to her ear, pressing her against the impressive hardness trapped between them.
As she lifted her head away from his questing mouth, she caught sight of their surroundings and gasped. "We're in your bedroom! How… when…?"
He laughed against her cheek and it came out as a deep rumble. "Those places I most frequent in the castle have become, over time, places of great power. I can move freely between them with but a thought, so imbued with centuries of my magic are they. "Still, I must admit that taking you along with me was more of a chore, although one I certainly do not mind."
She'd frozen at her discovery and now pushed him away, staring at him aghast. "Why have you brought me here?" she asked, warily.
His expression soured and he sighed with apparent exasperation. "Sheila, I'm exhausted, I'm hurt and I am not the sexual predator you seem to think me to be; much less in my current sorry state. The balcony table is set. Won't you have some wine and take some food?"
"I'm not hungry," she replied, embarrassed at having jumped to such a conclusion. "Besides, I couldn't possibly eat while Nate is locked away in your dungeon."
Venger stood suddenly and placed her on her feet, before moving off to the table and she couldn't help but notice that he was limping. Once there, he poured two glasses of white wine and held one out towards her. "Then have a little wine and stay a while; I'll make no demands on you. Only stay and I will release your friend in the morning."
"You'll release him?" she asked, as she moved towards him.
"Yes."
"Unharmed?"
"Yes and he will be free to travel as he pleases just so long as he does not enter my home."
She stopped in front of him. "Are you saying that you're willing to release him from his service to you as well?" she asked, as his words suddenly sank in.
He quirked an eyebrow at her and said with some amusement, "That is precisely what I am promising to do; if you stay."
Her heart beating rapidly, she reached for the wine glass and as her fingers closed upon the stem, he used his other arm to gather her close to him. She found herself leaning against him as he wrapped his wings around her as well, resting his damaged one on her shoulder. Beneath her ear, his heart beat slowly and steadily, proving that he was, for the moment, relaxed and giving credence to his statement that he was not going to take advantage of her.
It confused her even more to have him clinging to her like this and not from any desire other than one to simply hold on to her. Or was that it; that he was desperately seeking comfort after the traumas he'd just survived? Kareena had said that he was changing. Perhaps his near-death experience had accelerated that change.
"I don't understand you," she finally sighed, relaxing against him. Then she realized how false her words sounded, when at that moment she understood quite well how much she'd missed simply touching and feeling connected to someone; anyone.
"Oh, I think you do," he replied. "Perhaps better than anyone is ever likely to." Then he unwrapped himself from her and stepped back, indicating her chair, which she took. Sitting gingerly, he lifted his own wine glass and sipped, then took a few slices of rolled meat from the platter at the center of the table.
Sheila followed suit, finding the wine excellent and on the sweet side, and the cheese she selected moist and tasty.
When she looked up, she saw that he was watching her with an approving look and realized that he looked very weary.
"What happened to you in the north?" she asked.
He rotated his wine glass as he stared into it and then took a gulp before meeting her eyes again. "I won a war but nearly lost my life," he replied, then added, "I set right a wrong and in return wronged many."
She was silent for a time, trying to decide which question to ask him first and opted instead to state the obvious, "You cannot die."
His expression became positively gloomy. "In the place I fought, cut off from magic and no longer linked to my master, I was merely mortal. Otherwise, you are correct to some extent, for only I may otherwise end my existence."
"You're saying that you can only die if you kill yourself?" she asked, horrified.
"Save for the circumstances of this past week, yes." He drank down the rest of his glass and then refilled it.
"Is this because of 'you-know-who'? Is it part of what he did to you?" she asked.
Again, he stared into his glass, this time refusing to meet her eyes. "Part of what he did to me; yes."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them then. To her surprise, he was the first to break it. "There was a woman amongst the dead of the city," he whispered, barely audibly. His eyes remained on his drink, but his voice sounded troubled indeed. "She looked almost exactly like someone I once…"
"Once what?" she prompted, leaning towards him as a strange case of the butterflies took over her stomach. Somehow she knew what he was about to say even before he said it.
His eyes finally met hers. "Long ago I was capable of love. The woman I saw in the street looked like my betrothed, my Suhailah, now gone from me these many centuries."
"What happened to her?" she asked without thinking.
Venger knew to which woman she referred. "She left me," he said, standing and putting down his glass. "She left me when I most needed her." Taking Sheila's glass from her, he put it down as well and then offered her a hand up.
"It is nearly dawn. I am weary and must sleep," he commented as she stood. "Come, when we arise, your friend shall go free."
He began leading her indoors, but she pulled at his hand, making him stop and look at her impatiently.
"Where do you think you are taking me?"
"To bed, of course!" he quipped.
When she continued to balk, he took another tactic; stepping in close and scooping her into his arms, he kissed her soundly, only raising his head to husk out in a low tone, "I'm taking you to my bed, Sheila, but only to sleep; nothing more than that. You did promise to stay, did you not?"
"Yes, but not overnight and most definitely not in your bed!"
"Come now; you didn't really think that I meant for you to stay a mere half hour, did you?" he asked, his expression disappointed.
"I suppose not," she finally sighed, feeling quite stupid.
He rewarded her honesty with another quick kiss. Then he limped to the bed and with a mock growl, tossed her upon it as he sat and began removing his boots.
"That wasn't very nice," she protested, sitting up.
He looked back over his shoulder as he freed one boot and tossed it in a corner. "I shall tell you what isn't very nice; me stripping your dress and shoes from you because you fail to do so yourself."
She stopped smiling. "You wouldn't?"
He tossed his other boot and stared at her. "You know the answer to that, now don't you?"
Obediently, Sheila moved to sit at the edge of the bed next to him and began unlacing her shoes, then gaped as she saw him stand and then remove his epaulets and his skirt. She swallowed hard as she watched him undressing, her shoes all but forgotten. His body armor came off next, as he unbuckled the front piece at the shoulders and then gingerly slipped his wings through the openings of the back plate. He placed the armor pieces beside the bed, and was left standing only in his gray breeches and an orange tunic.
Noting that she was no longer undressing, he fixed her with another smirk and raised eyebrow. "Having problems with those?" he inquired.
With a gulp she removed her shoes, then stole another look at him as he stripped off his tunic. She could feel herself blushing when his upper body was revealed. His arms, chest and even his abdomen was impressively sculpted; muscular and smooth in a way that made her long to run her hands over him. What made her gasp, however, was her dismay over the massive bruising of the skin over his right side and right arm, as well as the healing gouges on his belly and arms.
Her intake of breath drew his gaze and he immediately realized what upset her. "It is nothing… now," he shrugged. "Do not concern yourself over it." With a grumble at how little progress she'd made removing her dress, he walked around to the other side of the bed and then lay upon it, all the while watching her.
Realizing that the sooner she got into bed with him, the sooner he would stop staring; she undid the laces of her gown and pulled it off. Now dressed only in her white muslin shift, she walked to a corner chair and laid the gown neatly upon it. When she turned to return to the bed, she noticed that his eyes were closed. Could he have fallen asleep that quickly?
He never moved as she approached, but when she made to slip beneath the covers, his hand snaked out and gripped her wrist, then pulled her atop the covers until she was right alongside him. His eyes opened lazily as he shifted closer, encircling her with one arm and then covering her with a wing. "Go to sleep little thief," he said sleepily.
After he closed his eyes, Sheila remained perfectly still, afraid to disturb him by shifting her position. She stared at his features, for the first time able to truly study him at her leisure and as she did so, her heart finally slowed to a normal pace.
A few moments later, his slack mouth and steady breathing told her he was deeply asleep. She continued watching him, feeling safer, warmer and more comfortable than she'd felt in a very long time. Moments later, she too, was fast asleep.
That night when he slept, he dreamed of his Ailah. He hadn't thought about her for many, many lifetimes before seeing her doppleganger lying dead in the street. He hadn't dreamed of her since the years following her betrayal, hadn't even really remembered much about how she looked.
Now, in his dreams, he relived the last fateful days of their shared lives and relived the pain of her loss. Because of her, he'd refused to love or trust or care... until the now-adult thief had reentered his life.
In his dream, he saw Suhailah clearly; her long chestnut hair and golden skin, her pale amber colored eyes weeping as she pleaded with him to let her go. Then he saw her dead on the floor, surrounded by deep blue liquid and forever beyond his reach. The surroundings faded out and now she was dead on a city street, her blood running into the gutter. Lastly and worse yet, she faded out and was instead replaced with an equally dead Sheila, whose face he only just then realized, was Suhailah's face; only the coloration was different!
He awoke with a start, breathing heavily and filled with nightmare-born anxiety. In the dark he nuzzled the woman in his arms and kissed her gently.
Only then was he able to convince himself that all was well and fall back to sleep.
But sleep repeatedly eluded him. Nightmare after nightmare startled him awake until later in the day, when he gave up even trying to sleep and merely rested while looking over the woman in his arms
In the morning she awoke to find him watching her through tired-looking eyes. Those eyes were a vivid red in the golden glow of the morning, the black markings beneath them larger than usual, but his face was more gray than blue, exhaustion more than evident in it. She sighed, then yawned as she tried to burrow down under the warm, velvety covers, only belatedly realizing that it was his wing.
He watched her with amusement as she smiled shyly and wished him a good morning. "Good evening, more like," he rumbled. "That is the sunset approaching; not dawn."
"We slept all day?" she choked.
"Apparently," he replied as a small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"But I've a feeling that you did not sleep very well, if at all," she breathed. "As battle damaged as you are, you should have from exhaustion alone."
He nodded and then lifted his wing up to the light. "Still, merely resting did me a world of good. See; I am nearly as good as new."
And it was true; the tears had healed, as had the last of the burns and punctures. Sheila would have been more impressed, if the wing hadn't been her warm cover. Shivering in the cooler air of the room, she grasped the leading edge of his limb and pulled it back down over her, making him chuckle.
"Ah, so now you actually like being in my arms now, do you?" he husked.
"You make a good blanket, is all," she mumbled, causing him to laugh outright.
Then he suddenly grew serious again, speaking as he brushed her hair back from her face with his hand, "I think you should know that I intend to pursue many more nights spent just so with you. More to the point; I intend to pursue you."
Sheila grew serious as well. "It was just for the night," she reminded him. "And only because of an agreement we had. You will set Nate free now, won't you?"
Venger showed his teeth as he growled with annoyance. "He was set free moments before you awakened, when I summoned Shadow Demon to me and commanded him to see to it."
"Venger," she sighed. "How can this ever work out? We may be drawn to each other, but that doesn't mean that we won't end up destroying each other instead. Let's face it; I'm basically as moral and good a person as you'll find, whereas you..."
He placed a finger to her lips. "How is it that you allowed Nate to become your friend, despite my warnings to you about him?"
She almost rolled her eyes at him. "I don't judge people by their past or what I hear about them. I always give them the benefit of the doubt and judge them for who they are now, based upon their actions."
He nodded. "So then, have I done anything to make you believe I would harm you? Have I done anything that would make you believe I would use you?"
"No," she breathed, seeing the trap she'd fallen into.
"Then you will not judge me by my past, but only upon the here and now." He gripped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "I set your friend free, didn't I? I always keep my promises, little thief and I promise you this; sooner or later you will sleep with me again when you do, it will not be due to an agreement, nor will we merely be sleeping… You will come to me because you cannot help but seek me out, even as I cannot help but seek you."
She gaped at him, surprised by the passion of his words.
"We are tied together in some way, you and I. When you've lived as long as I have you come to see that some things are written... and cannot be avoided or changed."
"We all have free will!" she protested.
He shrugged. "That does not mean that we choose who will be important in our lives. When we ignore or deny those we are meant to interact with, we merely put off the inevitable; sooner or later, in this life or the next, we must find the right path to take with them. I think that somehow you and I have unfinished business."
Rolling away from her, he stood and stretched, giving her a good look at his muscular back, as well as his backside. She nearly groaned aloud at the sight, but then sat up, surprised when he stalked away.
"Where are you going?" she asked, as he reached the doorway.
He moved a wing out of the way so that he could look back over his left shoulder, making his smirk clearly visible. "I'm off to relieve by bladder," he said, with some amusement.
She blushed and flopped back down on the bed. "Oh..."
She heard his voice echo slightly when he called back as he reached the sitting room, "Why don't you go freshen up and then return for a meal?"
At that she hopped from the bed, dressed and then let herself out just as she heard him splashing about in his bathing pool.
As she made her way back to Venger's chambers a while later, Sheila continued to try to make sense of her feelings for him. It was confusing to say the least and he was right; she did get an odd sense that they were destined to be something to each other. She just didn't understand what or why... and there were far too many 'whys'!
Why him, of all the people in this world? Why would she find herself becoming attached to so evil a being and then discover that she cared? Why would such an evil creature care for her?
And how could she justify turning a blind eye to the things he did; the atrocities he would continue to inflict in his quest to rule this world utterly? Wouldn't that make her as evil as he?
Kareena had said that she could save him, that it was important to all the Realm. Could it be that someone as small and insignificant as herself could change him for the better? How?
And for that matter, Kareena had told her the ring would lead her to the man she was supposed to be with, yet that ring now resided on Nate's finger and he was banished from this castle. Hmm, he had, on the other hand, been a prisoner in Venger's castle even as Kareena had predicted... so perhaps they would meet again. But once again, if he were the one then what was going on between her and Venger?
Her head spinning with unanswerable questions, she pushed open his door and reentered his chambers.
She found him on the balcony, standing beside the table and he held out a hand to her as she appeared. He'd obviously heard her come in and she quickly moved forward to take his hand. She was quickly pulled into his arms and given a passionate kiss that left her gasping for air.
"You look lovely," he murmured against her cheek.
"It's only the gown," she countered, indicating the royal blue brocade fabric. "It was Suhailah's, wasn't it?"
He lifted his head and frowned, then stepped back to look at her. "It was indeed Ailah's," he replied. "Yet, it was not the gown I was speaking of, but the woman within it. How could you not know how beautiful you have grown, when every male stops what he is doing just to watch you pass by?"
She blushed deeply. "I guess I have the typical ugly red head duckling syndrome," she replied. "All the other kids make fun of you when your hair is carrot colored."
He moved forward and ran a hand over her tresses, tangling his fingers in the ends and lifting it so he could admire the color in the light of the setting sun. "Children's immature and petty perceptions generally mean little. On this world, such a color is rare and admired where it appears. It is thought of as the sign of one who has a destiny to fulfill."
Removing her hair from his hand, she moved away, more unnerved than ever. "Please don't say that," she whispered.
"I see that the thought disturbs you," he rumbled thoughtfully behind her. "Very well; we shall speak no more of it. Come now, let us eat, for I must soon attend to some matters elsewhere."
She moved back to her seat as he held it out for her and this time he pushed it in once she'd sat. After he, too, had taken his seat, she spoke, "Will you be gone long?"
He began heaping meat, eggs and vegetables on their plates. "Rest assured that I shall return in time to woo you to my bed," he said, smiling wickedly.
She stared at him incredulously, even though a suddenly longing rippled through her. "You really are something else, aren't you?" She asked, astounded. "You seem almost too tired to eat, yet you speak of such things!"
His reply was accompanied by one of his famous smirks, "Yes, I am something, Sheila; something you have never before encountered. You may be young and relatively inexperienced, but surely even you realize that a woman does not tell a man he is too tired to perform without him setting out to prove her wrong?"
At the look on her face he laughed softly, then reached out to brush her hair back. "Do not worry, my little thief; what I want from you cannot be taken by force or coercion; it must be given freely."
"And what is it that you want?" she asked bluntly.
He raised an eyebrow. "I think you know the answer to your own question."
"But I don't! All I have are questions and no hint as to their answers!"
He looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "In this place, you have all the time you need to find those answers," he replied cryptically. "I myself have all the time anyone could wish in which to wait you out."
They ate in silence for a time, each sneaking looks at the other, but as Venger was about to excuse himself, she found her courage. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course." He stood and helped her to her feet.
"What did Suhailah look like?"
He inhaled suddenly, clearly surprised by her question, but then composed himself. When he spoke, he seemed to be far away, as if reliving a memory, "She had the honey tan skin of the nomads, with large, golden brown eyes and chestnut hair that lit a red color in the sun." Then his eyes came back to stare at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. "Aside from your coloration, you and she could easily have been identical twins," he admitted.
Then he bowed and leaped off the balcony so quickly that Sheila nearly fainted from fright. Running to the railing, she was in time to see his wings snap open. He landed lightly, folded his wings and stalked out of the garden.
It seemed obvious to her that he'd found it upsetting to admit the similarities between herself and Suhailah to her, and so he had literally taken off at the first opportunity.
"He was right," she breathed. "I do understand him better than I thought."
Once out of her sight, Venger ducked into the nearest empty room and leaned heavily upon the wall. Little did his intended realize that a war now raged within him; he was besieged with pain and tormented with visions. Unable to sleep, he was finding it hard to keep up the pretense of being strong and unaffected.
Another terrible pain stabbed through him and he shuddered violently. When it passed, he panted and composed himself, then pushed off from the wall and headed towards his sanctum, which was located part way up the castle's rear turret.
He had to find out how to counter this before it destroyed him!
After visiting the tower and several other favorite spots in the castle, Sheila spent an hour enjoying the garden. She was about to leave when a friendly neigh made her turn around. "Nightmare!" she cried, running to greet the steed with a quick hug and a scratch of it's ears.
The horse seemed forlorn and listless, leaning his great head on her shoulder and cocking one rear foot in the manner horses had when trying to sleep.
"Here now; what's the matter with you," she asked, rubbing his head and looking into one large, intelligent eye.
The steed nickered and then blew out its breath before again relaxing. That was when it dawned on her that Venger might well have been on the Nightmare when he was injured, therefore the demon horse might also have been badly hurt.
"Poor thing!" she murmured. "I'll bet that you're recovering too, aren't you?"
It lifted its head to look at her, then gave her a push, and turning, vanished into the ether.
Sheila jumped and stared around her, suddenly feeling quite anxious. "I've never seen him do that before," she breathed, certain that something was dreadfully wrong.
In his sanctum, Venger collapsed, too tired to continue his research. His hopes for an easy solution were fading with his energy. He could try to summon the master, but even if he deigned to respond, it would surely mean Sheila's death.
Oh, his Master would heal him, but only at the cost of restoring him to servitude and destroying the woman.
That meant that he had no choice but to accelerate his pursuit of the earth woman. Not only was she cause of his current state; she also held the key to saving him.
"It is too much," he mumbled, forcing himself to stand and realizing just how weak he was. "I cannot continue crossing the master's will and bleeding magic into the air around me; not while also fighting this cursed thing!"
Sooner or later, he knew he would turn back into the Master's puppet, unless the thief set things right. Without her, he had no hope; he would be plunged back into a repeat of those first awful days of his fiendish existence.
Somehow, he managed to compose himself. Then he left the room, in search of the one he'd waited so very long for.
After leaving the garden, Sheila wandered through some of the rooms where she felt she had a chance of encountering Venger.
It was as she was making her way behind the throne, wandering aimlessly through the audience room, she noticed that the hidden door that Venger both entered and exited through when holding court, was ajar. Normally it was sealed so well as to be undetectable. She'd been told about it by one of the housekeepers she'd chatted up the day of her arrival and had also been informed that only Venger himself could open it.
Looking around to make certain she wasn't being watched, she slowly opened the door and peered inside. The room beyond was quite large and seemed to be a library. There was even a table strewn with maps.
She supposed it made sense to be able to do your research before greeting your subjects and Generals.
"Hello Sheila."
At the sound of her name being called, she jumped guiltily and spun to see the Dungeon Master, of all people, sitting atop a stack of large tomes.
She could feel her face becoming hot as her temper flared; he was the last person in the entire Realm she ever wanted to see again!
"I can see that you are still angry with me," he said, managing to look quite sad.
"What are you doing here?" she ground out. "And for that matter how is it that you are here when Venger tells me that you cannot enter his castle?"
He smiled slightly. "It was my castle before it was ever his," he replied. "And I can still enter those areas where my magic is its strongest; like this library. As to why I am here; I come bringing good advice."
He pointed at a thick tome, which fell off a shelf and opened when it hit the ground. "Venger knows that it is wise to know both your enemies and your friends. How much do you know about yours?"
She looked at the fallen book. "Not much, I suppose…" She stopped when a glance back showed her that the small man had vanished. "Little troll…" she whispered to herself. "Wish he would stop making guest appearances in my life!"
Moving across the floor, she picked up the tome. There was no telling when Venger might return, so it was best to check it out immediately and then get the hell out of Dodge.
Although she could speak and understand the primary language of the Realm, the result of some spell placed upon all of them by Dungeon Master when they'd been transported here, the spell did not extend to reading. And even after these many years, her ability to read the language was not the best; she'd had precious little time when she wasn't working in which to learn it properly. So now, as she scanned the open pages of the book, she understood little of what she was reading… until her eyes lit on a particular paragraph:
And to him were born twins; alike in feature except that one was fair while the other was dark, yet both were gray on the inside. The dark one was male and given the name Natharious while the light one, his twin sister, was named Kareena.
"Natharious," she breathed. "Venger's name is Natharious... and the shortened version would be... Nate." She nearly fell over as shock over her discovery took her.
"My God... How could I not have seen it before?" she breathed. "Natharius is the man trapped within the fiend now known only as Venger, making Nate the man trapped within Venger's Castle!"
Of course it all made sense now: the ring had responded to both Venger and Nate because they were one and the same person!
"Sheila, how did you get in here?"
At the deep voice, she jumped, but did not cringe as she might otherwise have. In her mind all the puzzle pieces had come together and the final picture they made was enough to inure her for a time against any external shock.
Turning, she fixed Venger with a stare so malevolent that he took a step backwards as she advanced towards him. Yet, she could not sustain her anger more than the length of time it took her to reach him. As she came to standstill right before him, she stared up at his face, finding his features suddenly so hauntingly reminiscent of Nate that she was surprised that she hadn't stumbled on the truth herself.
He was tense; obviously having realized that something serious had occurred, although not yet guessing what it might be.
Reaching up, she lightly cupped his cheek even as her tears began to fall. "I have judged you based upon your current actions," she said. "and I find you to be a liar and every bit as manipulative as your father. To think that I very nearly fell for your words about certain things being written... To think that I was contemplating actually forgetting what it is you do, what it is you are... " She stopped and had to compose herself enough to sob out, "To think that I thought that I was falling in love with you, Venger. Or should I call you Natharius or perhaps... Nate?"
There was a look of stunned horror on his face as she stepped aside and placed the tome, still open to the fateful page, upon the table beside him.
Then she ran from the room.
When she'd reached the corridor to the stairs she heard him bellow out; the sound echoing eerily throughout the castle.
It was the sound of loss.
Next time: Life and Death... and Life