Pt. 15

Marianne strolled through the village, casually examining shops and garden plots with the same nonchalant air she had cloaked herself in since she first arrived in Ainsley. The villagers, for the most part, ignored the stranger in their midst, their terror of the jinn's assassin more powerful than their curiosity. She noticed that there was no sense of moderation in the way things were presented in this cursed village. Heaps of food items were piled on carts by the side of the road, more food than this small village could every need. Shop fronts were elaborately decorated, with colors that were so vivid they strained the eyes. All the sounds, all the smells, everything seemed to be exaggerated, almost a parody of what would normally be found in a country village. "I can keep this up all day," she called back to her shadow calmly, plucking a rose from a small garden then tossing it away in disgust. Its sickly sweet smell floated after her as she continued down the path. "Make it easy on both of us. Just take me to your home and then I'll be ready to speak with your master."

"Come then," he said, gesturing to a worn footpath beside the woman. "If you must disturb the past, then here is the road you must take."

She stared down the road somberly. "Wait here for me," she commanded, carefully starting down the track.

"As you wish," he replied, turning his back on the road which led to his past.

Marianne walked a ways down the overgrown road, glancing back occasionally to see if her escort was still in sight. The path took a slight turn to the right, past a huge mound of wildly flowering Oleander bushes. She stepped behind the bushes, hiding herself from the sight of anyone on the main road, and looked again into the air. The sound of fluttering wings announced his arrival, as it always did before. "Hello Twin," she sighed, reaching out to embrace the figure that had gone from hawk to man in the blink of an eye.

"Hello Twin," he replied, sweeping her slender figure into a bear hug. The man before her was of slender build, neither tall nor short, with the long-legged graceful posture of a dancer. His scruffy beard and long dark hair gave him the air of a gypsy, as did the gold stud in his ear lobe. His eyes were the same dark pools as his sisters, the mirrors of his soul. It was her brother Andre; the one she had always claimed held the other half of her soul. "How goes the search?"

"Remind me to have a serious talk with our elder brother about the things he should tell people before he sends them off to fight demons," she said, unwilling to release her brother from her embrace. "There are things here I was not expecting."

"Such as?" he asked, leaning slightly to pluck a flower from the bushes.

She stopped him quickly. "Such as don't pick the flowers. Their scent is so strong it's overpowering. There is no subtleness here. Our intelligence about this particular jinn was right on the money. He's probably a minor practitioner. The demon was probably unable to cast his spell with any degree of finesse. Everything is either too much or not enough. Too much food, too much scent to the flowers, too much beauty …"

"Too much beauty? That wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blond who's face will never be the same again, would it?"

"Perhaps it does, though I have no regrets on that score. If anyone deserved their fate, it was that witch."

"I know there is a story behind this and you'll explain it to me eventually but I haven't time now. I must fly if I am to make it to the monastery by nightfall." He gently set her aside and stepped back.

"Yes, I know. Duty calls. And I am grateful for your assistance with that little matter. Trust me when I say it was a job well done." Marianne sighed and backed away, giving her brother room for his transformation. "Tell the Phoenix I'll have what he requires by noon on the appointed day. This I promise."

"Then we meet again on that day, sweet sister," he cried, leaping up into the sky and returning to his hawk shape. She watched him fly off, straining to see until his figure was a distant speck. Then she stepped back on to the path and continued down the road.

As she disappeared around yet another overgrown turn, the Swordsman appeared on the path behind her, his eyes cold as he looked up to watch the hawk disappear over the horizon. Then he continued after her, walking softly in her footsteps, careful to not give himself away.

Gideon returned to the conference room to find Alwyn and Dr. Chambers engrossed in a document on the screen before them. "What's that?"

"There was a hidden file, something Mr. Eilerson probably didn't know about. The crystal was encrypted to hide this document." Alwyn stared intently at the text, engrossed in the story it told.

"So how did you find it?" Gideon asked, curious in spite of himself.

"We didn't, Captain," Sarah replied, looking briefly across the table at the Technomage. "We were still going through the photos when all of a sudden there it was."

"It is a story, told to the artist, by Damien Draco. An explanation of sorts as to why there is no love lost between himself and his sister's guard." Alwyn shook his head, amazed. "This man was arrogant enough to have been a member of my order Captain Gideon. He tells of sending his young sister into a trap to retrieve an item he did not need, against an opponent he knew she could not defeat. He knowingly sacrificed her to draw his enemy's attention away from the prize he was truly searching for. And he has the unmitigated gall to be annoyed at the Swordsman's condemnation of his actions."

"Well, whoever she went up against, he must not have been as tough as her brother thought for her to still be alive when he told this story." Gideon pulled up a chair and began to read the text quickly. His eyes scanned down to the final lines then he sat back, amazed. "Whoa, am I reading this right? Her opponent was…"

"The Swordsman," Alwyn replied quietly.