Any Other Way

Chapter Three: The Full Story

Author's Note: There must be something special about this story. I can't stop writing! Hope you guys appreciate this one; I skipped youth group to get it down! Oh yea, it's from Bobby's POV. Just thought I'd mix it up a little.


"But what do you want us to do?"

"I need you to help me kill him."

My jaw must have dropped, and I heard Mark gasp. She started to continue, but at that moment there was a knock at the door, and a cheery voice announced, "Comida!"

"Entra," Speaker said distractedly, never taking her eyes off my face. A cute young boy in what could pass for Second Earth street clothes came in, bearing a rather large tray filled with covered dishes, and a bottle in his other arm. He sat all of this down on a table I hadn't previously noticed, and wheeled said table over to the three of us. Then he stood at Attention.

"Thank you, Claer. You're excused." He left grinning, and I couldn't help but smile at his adorable naivety.

"Try the wine, Pendragon. It's to die for." She paused. "I mean that figuratively." Mark gave his nervous laugh, but I didn't say anything.

"Well at least have some hors d'oeuvres. Baked clams, Ghana steak, tortellini?" The food certainly smelled good, but I was suspicious. Mark didn't touch anything; he seemed to be waiting for my go-ahead.

"Tell us more about you. Who are you, really, Speaker?" I said, hoping to throw her off-guard. It didn't quite have the desired effect. She sat back in her chair and clasped her hands, completely relaxed.

"You want to know about my past? You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me. There's not much I haven't seen." That was an understatement.

"Very well." Standing up rather quickly, she strode to the stairwell. "I'll be back momentarily. Eat something, I pray you." And she left us alone. Mark looked at me, puzzled.

"What now? Are we seriously g-g-going to go through with this? We d-d-don't even know this guy. How can we k-k-kill him?" He asked in a nervous whisper.

"Relax, Mark," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "Right now the only person we're planning on killing is Saint Dane."

By this time, Speaker had returned, and under her arm was a very old chest, like a Victorian jewelry box. It even had an old silver lock. How quaint.

"In this chest I've kept all my mementos, from my early childhood to the time when I came to Cyahtvla."

"Hang on. You came to Cyahtvla? You're not from here?"

"That's right. Please, let me explain." Not a chance.

"How can you be the Traveler from Cyahtvla if you don't belong here?!" I exploded. "Mixing territories is a dangerous thing! You can't just waltz in and declare yourself a Traveler!" I swept my hand across the room. "Is any of this even native to this country? What'd you do, Fed-Ex everything to your royal kingdom??" I was on the verge of shouting. Mark quickly put a hand on mine to keep me seated. This gave Speaker a chance to reply. Her voice was only a hiss.

"I do belong here, thank you very much. And I'm not even going to ask what a Fed-Ex is. Everything you've seen is entirely Cyahtvlan in origin."

"Except you!" She sat back, looking stunned. For a fleeting moment, I felt triumphant.

"You're right. I wasn't born here. But that doesn't mean I have no place in this world. Let me tell you how I came to be here." She leaned forward in her chair. "I want you to feel totally at ease with me, Traveler to Traveler." And with that, she reached behind her head and smoothly untied the ribbon. Soon her black mask sat in her lap, and we saw her face.

"My birth name is Alysia Mac. I am from Third Earth."