A.N: This chapter is for Serinity Dawn, hang in there, you have our best wishes, feel better soon.

Chapter 39: The young and the idiotically suicidal.

Conrart smiled to himself from his place in the tall grass atop the prestigious cliff face that formed one of the vast wings of the city. He had a roll of paper and a charcoal stick in his hand and was carefully sketching the sight before him. Two young Gryphons where playing together on the wind. "I wonder what it's like to fly," he said quietly to the stallion, who was rarely far from his side – particularly now.

Vanyel snorted in amusement. :That I wouldn't know my chosen, but come it is time for the meeting.:

Conrart sighed and somewhat reluctantly climbed to his feet, folded the bit of paper and tucked it into his shirt. Then with all the grace of a born rider turned fully trained Herald he swung lightly onto Vanyel's bare back. Vanyel waited only long enough for Conrart to find his balance before launching himself forward into a full Companion's gallop, headed straight for the edge of the cliff.

At the last possible second he veered sharply to the right and galloped down the broad path carved into the stone face ages ago. Still going full speed he twisted around like a ferret and flung himself to the side veering off the 'road' and down onto a much smaller track used only to make repairs to the path above their heads. It was a narrow trek and Vanyel only just fit, his hooves sent tiny pebbles cascading down the cliff face as he whipped around a particularly tight turn.

Despite himself Conrart cried out in alarm, clinging to Vanyel's bare back for dear life, however as the stallion executed another wild yet oddly controlled tight turn he felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He let out a whoop of joy as his hair fanned out behind him in the wind and Vanyel's mane lashed at his face. He shifted his balance instinctively as Vanyel threw himself into the air to land on yet another narrow ridge.

One Conrart recognized at that.

Just last week two young – incredibly foolish –stags had died here.

Doing exactly what Conrart and Vanyel where doing - Racing the wind Vanyel had called it and the part of Conrart's mind not too busy whooping in adrenaline induced exhilaration dubbed it idiotically suicidal. Particularly since a stag's feet and gate where better designed for the Cliffside then Vanyel's could ever be.

However as Vanyel rounded yet another turn Conrart felt that part of himself slip away.

Somewhere in his mind he heard the collective voices of his friends telling him to relax and enjoy life, to ignore his responsibilities and the weight of the world – if only for an hour or two and remember that he was still technically young.

So with Vanyel's hooves flying below him and his heart racing, Conrart lost himself in the feeling of being one with his Companion, and for the first time in 50 some odd years allowed himself to act on his youth. Vanyel pivoted tightly, somehow avoiding a spot on the small trek that should have sent them both careening to their deaths, with all the grace of a dancer.

The logical part of Conrart's mind registered that it was the exact spot that had sent the two racing youngsters plummeting to their deaths, before the wind, the exhilaration, and the thundering of Van's hooves so in tune with his own thundering heart stole the thought away.

Abruptly Conrart came back to himself as he realized that Vanyel had changed directions again, and was headed up rather than down. He also realized that Vanyel was headed straight for a dead end.

Well not quite

There was always the landing platform but it was quite a ways away, with a deadly drop separating them from the platform. "Van Stop!" he shrieked with mind and voice as soon as he realized Vanyel was about to take the jump.

Van kept going, and Conrart felt the stallion gathering himself.

Then they were airborne

It was terrifying

And exhilarating

In the space of a few seconds that seemed to span an eternity they simply hung in the air the world sprawling out below them. Conrart couldn't help it – he whooped – a fierce joy and exhilaration at life rising in his breast. Around him the miniscule droplets of water carried by the air rejoiced at his presence – and he felt his own soul sing in response.

Vanyel's hooves hit the ground with a clatter of bells on stone, to the astonished whistling of the Gryphons on the platform.

Conrart couldn't help marveling at his extraordinary Companion. He didn't think any horse he'd ever ridden could have made that jump let alone make it without breaking his stride as Van had. Vanyel hadn't even stumbled when he landed; he'd simply pivoted around and taken off down the spiraling pathway leading back down the pillar like platform.

Conrart shifted his weight minutely as Vanyel turned, presenting the smallest bit of himself to the wind, easily matching his Companion.

They were one

He couldn't tell where Vanyel ended and he began.

Vanyel galloped through the streets so far below their starting point with an ease and grace, neatly avoiding the traps and pitfalls that could so easily befall a horse or person running headlong through a populated area, until he reached the coast.

He didn't even break his stride but simply plowed straight in until the surf sloshed against his sides and Conrart felt drunk with the power and vastness of the sea.

The largest body of water he'd seen since his choosing.

Something he hadn't seen since he'd left Shin Makoku before contracting with his element. The faint buzzing he'd always heard in presence of the vast expanse of salt water shifted and became a song.

Idly he wondered if this was what Vanyel had felt like all those years ago, when he'd still been human every time he'd come in contact with a major node.

: it is, now little one I think it is time you learned to swim.: Vanyel said lightly before giving a small half buck and sidled just slightly to the side dumping his startled rider.

Conrart hit the water with a splash and didn't even bother trying to find his feet; instead he just rolled over and allowed himself the luxury of floating. He spat a small stream of water up into his Companion's face as he drifted by giggling when Vanyel dropped his muzzle into the salt water and splashed him in return with a small flick of his head.

"Herald Conrart!" Holly yelled from the shoreline, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Conrart glanced over at the council gathered on the shore and found he honestly didn't care what they thought at the moment. Turning his head he glanced up at Vanyel, "Can we do that again?" he asked still giggling almost manically.

"Conrart, act your age," Holly reprimanded sharply from her place on the shore.

Conrart giggled, at that moment he just couldn't help it – "I am acting my age." He retorted cheekily.

"No you're acting like you wish to achieve your death through suicidal idiocy!" Holly replied crossly.

"You have only just proved his point, Holly," a man Conrart had never met before said calmly. "He is what 18 – 19 winters old at most? Boys are all convinced of their immortality to the point of being suicidal at that age."

Conrart sighed, much as he wanted to simply float there and revel in the power flowing through the sea's waters, he had a duty to perform. Slowly, gracefully, and most reluctantly he made his way out of the water, with Vanyel at his side.

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Herald Kerowyn sighed as she stood beside her lifebonded lover in the courtyard of Blood Pledge Palace. Sayvil and Ratha stood quietly beside them as they watched the hustle and bustle of King Yuri's guards. The young king had decided he wanted to go for a pleasure ride and, as was predictable, several lesser nobles had decided their attendance on this trip was mandatory. The boy sighed and made his way over to her, in an obvious attempt to put some distance between himself and his guards.

"It's times like these that I really miss Conrad." He said mildly. "It was nice to simply say let's go for a ride and only have Wolfram tagging along. Conrad could usually get us saddled up and on our way out before the others had a chance to react."

Kero smiled at the young king amused by the mental image of the boy fleeing his guards and the attentions of his general population. "If you're referring to Conrart, then I agree with you the man is uncommonly swift when it comes to saddling up his mount – even for a Herald."

The boy smiled, "I'm sorry if I confused you." He replied. "But I've always called my Godfather, Conrad."

"Not a problem, so where exactly are we going?"

Yuri laughed, "nowhere in particular, but there is a lovely little forest two hours ride from here, at an easy walk, that I've been meaning to explore, however I've never had the chance – and Conrart never really seemed inclined to going. Which is rather odd – he's always up for an adventure."

"Don't think too much about it," Elden told him mildly "we all have our quarks, and I am sure Conrart has his reasons." He paused before adding, "and you had best mount up my lord, it seems we will be leaving shortly."

The boy smiled up at him before heading off in the direction of the beautiful black gelding being held by one of the stable hands.

Kerowyn smiled and swung gracefully up into Sayvil's saddle, her movements perfectly synchronized with Elden's in a beautifully natural choreography. She watched King Yuri mounted his horse with considerably less grace then Conrart had years ago when she'd first evaluated his skill as a horseman. She suppressed a laugh, and wondered who had been the king's teacher and how bad he'd been before he'd been taught.

There was something to be said for natural horsemanship verses learned skill, however it was obvious that the young kings current skill was all taught. Idly she wondered if the boy had fallen off on his first several attempts.

They set off a few minutes later riding on the outskirts of the mob congregated around the young king, and Kerowyn couldn't help noticing the man riding nearest the boy. If memory served his name wasGwilherm. He was a handsome well built man who looked to be in his mid twenties, his raven hair was pulled back into a short tail that only just brushed the base of his neck, and his almond shaped green eyes set into a perfectly chiseled face lent him the appearance of a hero from a tale. But there was something about those eyes.

: Watch him Chosen,: Sayvil informed her mildly, :there is something about that one that sends a shiver down my spine.:

Kero nodded minutely. : I see what our daemonling meant when he said we would be amazed by how innocent the King of the Mazoku is. The boy seems –quite – naïve. :

As they'd been speaking Kero noticed Sayvil weaving her way easily through the assembled nobles, until she kept an easy pace with Ao Yuri's mount, a moment later Ratha drew up beside them, and she nodded calmly to Elden.

Yuri offered them a small smile and a few minutes of idle conversation before Lord Wolfram butted in with his paranoid shouts of "Cheater!" Yuri grinned sheepishlyin apology and turned his attention to the blond haired young pretty the young prince was convinced his 'fiancé' was going to cheat on him with anything in a skirt.

Beside her Elden laughed, : I don't think, Lord Wolfram need worry.: he told her flippantly in mindspeach. : you are old enough to be their mother, after all.:

: You are sleeping alone tonight.:Kerowyn retorted mildly offended by Elden's comment, Wolfram was after all at least was not old enough to be his mother!

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After a good three and a half hours of riding they'd come to a small sheltered forest glen. It was lovely but the topography was a little weird. King Yuri apparently had decided to stop and spend some time here. His daughter, Princess Greta (who looked scarcely a year his junior) had already dismounted and was exploring the odd layout.

Elden couldn't help noticing the way the 'old growth' grew around the younger plants in a perfect circle; it was downrightunnatural and reminded him of 'White Foal Pass' or the 'Forest of Sorrows' in Valdemar. Places were the land had been altered by Heraldic magic. He shuddered and placed his open palm on the scared trunk of one tree. The scarring started a good two feet over his head and continued up a good six feet. Idly Elden wondered just what could have caused the deep claw-like gouges.

Ratha turned without prompting and began to follow the gouges in the old growth; he glanced over at Sayvil and Kero who were just behind them. "What could have caused a circle of destruction 60 yards wide, here?" He asked quietly once they'd ridden the circle's circumference.

"These people are all elementals;although their power varies based on the individual, I suspect the most likely cause to be a youngling of substantial power, who lost control of their gifts." Kero replied mildly.

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: That, or a traumatized baby Herald.:echoed softly down her bond to Sayvil so softly the Herald- Captain wasn't sure she'd even heard it.

Kerowyn sighed as she, Elden and their Companions turned and headed back towards the small glen. They came out of the relatively young secondary growth forest a few minutes later. She glanced around the glen at the mass of nobles milling around, only a few had ventured out of the shade provided by the trees.

Yuri, Greta, Lord von Voltaire, Queen Cecilia and four young lords Kerowyn had had little interaction with, but disliked none the less, weredown by a small river. Lord Odalis Gwilherm and his friends Lord Izo Lodewijk, Lord Eckhart Bhaltair, and Lord Waldo Baudewijn lingered a good 5yards away from the royal family. The four men were giving each other odd looks – like they were sharing a private joke.

Kerowyn shifted her position in Sayvil's saddle, as she surveyed the young lords. The four were what she'd come to see as 'typical' specimens of the Mazoku male. In the few months she'd been is Shin Makoku she'd come to see that the men came in three varietiesthe 'pretty boy', the 'muscle bound' and an oddly beautiful mixture of the two.

Lord Odalis Gwilherm for example, was a slightly shorter, more muscular, black-haired andgreen-eyed version of Yozak; while his friend Lodewijk, had a face that was slightly thinner than usual, with beautiful blue-gray eyes. He had the 'common soldier' build, and his crimson hair was full and thick, and styled so that his thick collar length bangs framed his face while the rest of it was slicked back and gathered into a short tail with a strip of purple, velvet ribbon that perfectly accented his long coat. Bhaltair was notable for his toned build, nape-length, windswept dirty blond hair, and silvery-blue eyesthat harmonized perfectly with his two tailed blue on blue embroidered coat. His not so purely ornamental carved mahogany knob cane bore a silver cap, and he walked with a distinct limp. The last of them, Bouldewijn, favored the other extreme, being effeminate enough to make Lord Wolfram look masculine. He was tall, being mostly leg, and wore his silver hair longer than any of his friends, so that it fell to mid back, a single lock falling forward to obscure his piercing green eyes.

There was something unsettling about those too innocent eyes.

Beyond that he carried an air of cold professionalism, which his friends lacked. His red, silk lined velvet, double tailed jacket bore black cuffs trimmed in silver. It marked him as being at least somewhat important.

Kerowyn cleared her throat once she'd reached the four snickering men. They looked up at her and she felt something she hadn't felt for a very long time.

She felt like a lamb at market.

She hadn't felt like that since she'd first held the gees-blade Need and her grandmother's best-friend and shield sister,Tarma, had started training her to use the sword.

She didn't like or appreciate the feeling.

Kero smiled, forcing down her discomfort and tucked her toes a bit closer to Sayvil's flanks – silently seeking comfort from the presence of her beloved Companion. "Would you mind sharing the joke?"

The four men turned and glanced up at her. For a moment they said nothing before Gwilherm offered her a small almost charming smile and replied, "we had a lot of fun here one Beltaine night, a long time ago by how human's recon time. It's interesting to see how much the land has changed since the last time we were here."

Bhaltair shifted his weight and leaned a bit more heavily on his cane. "A lot has changed since that Beltane," he added with an air of lament, "last time I was here, this was purely ornamental." He gestured almost sadly at the beautiful cane.

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Mel laughed and pulled his russet cloak a bit closer to his slender shoulders, tomorrow was midwinter, and he was enjoying his time away from his studies. He still had daily meetings with Bard Brendan as the man worked at getting him ready to join the rest of the bardic students when they returned from the winter holiday. In honor of the mid winter festivities he and his friends had decided to spend the day out on the town as soon as he'd escaped his reading lessons.

So now the four of them were wondering through the streets of Haven, having a grand time going to the different shops. They were planning to stop by one of the many taverns later that night for dinner. Jedrik's Companion Terrence had chosen to stay in the comfort of Companion's field and the special stable that had been made for the Companions.

Mel smiled as they came upon a stall that sold silk scarves. There was nothing there that they could actually afford so they probably wouldn't be staying long. Still they were beautiful and he wished he could afford one to give to his mother.

One day he would, as soon as he got his scarlets, he would buy his mother one of those scarves.

For now though they would have to move on. They all still needed to pick up their last minute gifts, and it was getting late. He'd already found something for Jedric, it wasn't much just a small copper trinket shaped like a horse. Honestly he wasn't sure what to do for midwinter gifts, this was the first time he'd had friends to share it with. He'd always gotten something small for his mother, however beyond that he had no experience. To make matters worse, he had very little in the way of money.

They made their way through several shops – occasionally purchasing something, occasionally just browsing. He'd found a nice lute strap for Markus, and was trying desperately to find something to give Elizabethwhen a voice he'd hoped never to hear again rang out across the shop.

"Father," he whispered, just as the man backhanded him with enough force to send him to the ground.

Instinctively he curled up into a tight ball and tried to protect his head and shoulders. Andrew probably wouldn't kill him, simply out of a well founded fear of the law. However the man's words rang in his ears as he lay curled on the floor trying to placidly accept his beating without making a sound. He was too afraid to even make sense of his friend's frantic shouts.

"They wouldn't do nothing to me for killing ya boy. They wouldn't care 'bout me killing worthless scum off the street like you." Andrew snarled in-between kicks.

Abruptly the blows stopped and Mel felt a presence looming over him.

"What the hell!" Andrew's voice was thick with a near mad rage. "Get out of the way boy!"

"Stop it Now!" Jedric's voice cut through his fear and the ringing in his ears. "In the name of the Queen and by the authority of her Heralds I order you to stop!"

The Boy spoke with all the authority of his office, and Mel opened his eyes just in time to see his father send Jedric – who was all of 13 – flying a few feet across the store, where the other boy crashed into a display case. He moaned but didn't get up.

Andrew glared down at him for a moment before he spoke "stay there boy, I'll deal with you after I punish your impudent li'l friend 'ere." That said the man turned and advanced on Jedric.

Elizabeth, shaking like mad, quickly stepped between her bestfriend and Mel's advancing father. Mel moaned and glanced around in time to see Marcus slip out of the shopand run off down the street. He had no idea where the shop keeper was, or even the other patrons. All he knew was that Andrew wouldn't hold back against Elizabeth, in fact Andrew would likely take a perverse pleasure in 'teaching her respect.'

It took every ounce of his strength to climb to his feet. He staggered forward, and put himself firmly between his father and his friends. He had to protect them. The next few minutes passed as a haze of frantic voices, a rain of blows and a general miasma of pain.

Then there was a sound like bells striking wood.

And suddenly Steffen was there, trumpeting his rage at the top of his voice, hooves flailing as he forced Andrew back. Mel crawled to his hands and knees and took in the scene. A white clad herald was currently binding Andrew's wrists behind his back. Across the room Terrence was standing guard over his Chosen. Minutes later Marcus came rushing back into the shop with – the guard.

Graceful as a dancer Steffen turned around, lowered his head, looked at him out of sky blue eyes, and Mel fell. Fell into a sea of love and devotion as Steffen changed his life one more time.

This time by choosing him.