The Heir of Jeragoth

Bertrand never returned. Ophelia brought her supper to her room, but Alana merely picked at it. As the night wore on, she felt worse and worse. Well into the small hours of the morning, sleep eluded her. She finally decided to make her way to the Sanctuary of the Noble Gods, where she had a good cry on Anya’s shoulder. When at last she left the sanctuary, she felt much better.

Now, as she stood at the entrance of the temple, she paused. Something wasn’t right. The magical torches that normally lit the hallway were out. They hadn’t been when she entered. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something move. “Who’s there?” she called out. A familiar figure stepped out of the shadows into the light shining from the doorway of the Sanctuary. Alana started slightly and felt a small shiver of apprehension. Remembering Iliard’s words in Narsacalius, she took a step back and said. “Francis, you startled me. What are you doing here so late?”

Francis Gellmy took another step into the light so Alana could see him. “I’ve found you at last,” he said in a low voice. His eyes were wild with a feverish excitement. “After twenty years, I finally found you. All my work has come to fruition. I will be honored above all others.”

Alana stared wide-eyed at Gellmy. “What are you talking about?” Then she gasped as a dark figure appeared behind him, its red eyes glowing, its soot black skin gleaming dully. It stood a full two feet over Gellmy and had a broad, muscular chest and fingers that ended in three inch talons. It was exactly like the creature she had seen in Narsacalius with the Anti-Paladin. Frightened, she pointed at it, “What is that?”

“Nice try,” he said with a smirk, his eyes never leaving hers. He pulled open his shirt to reveal a glowing red-orange symbol on his chest, “But I am an agent of the Warder Meterius. I cannot be so easily distracted.”

Alana took a step back from him and hissed, “Arnitath.”

Inside the Sanctuary, Aniyatomei looked at Asaeria, who had just appeared, and said, “Do only what you must and no more.” Asaeria said nothing as she stared over Alana’s shoulder at Gellmy and the demon. Two seraphim appeared, drew their swords, and walked past their goddess to the sanctuary doorway.

“Yes, Arnitath,” Gellmy answered with a sneer. “Your pallid gods will be of no use to you now. Soon you will know the power of the true god as you lay spread out on his altar. I may even be allowed to be the first to sink myself into your virgin body.”

Alana’s stomach churned with fear and disgust. How had an agent of Arnitath gotten into the castle? She didn’t know, but she was certain, given what her Uncle Iliard had just told her, that Gellmy was serious about taking her to the altar of Arnitath. She had to find a way to stop him. He couldn’t carry her out of the castle without being seen, so he must have a way to teleport. As she continued to back away from him, she reached for her dagger, but it wasn’t there. She hadn’t thought she would need it in her own home. She struggled to fight the panic that rose within her. She had to keep him from touching her. If he touched her, he would be able to teleport away with her and that would be her end.

She was ready when he lunged. She stepped quickly to her left and jumped out of reach of his outstretched arms. Gellmy wasn’t prepared for the speed at which she moved and grasped at thin air. He couldn’t stop his forward momentum so he fell and slid into the doorway of the Sanctuary and crashed into a solid but invisible wall with such force it momentarily stunned him. It was then that Alana saw the seraphim standing in there. To her great joy she saw Asaeria standing some distance behind them. “Help me!” she called out to her.

“I am sorry child. You must do this on your own. I may only keep the demon at bay.”

Taelerion appeared next to his sister and at the same moment, the unlit torch above Alana’s head fell to the floor at her feet. Asaeria and Aniyatomei glared at him, but he just stared at them in wide-eyed innocence.

Asaeria said, “It seems that my brother still has no appreciation for the law.”

Alana wasted no time. She picked up the torch and turned to face Gellmy, who was getting to his feet. She swung the heavy torch down hard onto his back and knocked him back onto the floor. Alana stepped back, facing Gellmy and the doorway. He leapt to his feet in a rage and drew a dagger with his right hand. Now it was a fight to the death. She couldn’t run—he would surely use the dagger to bring her down. For all she knew, the dagger could be poisoned or have the ability to immobilize her without killing her. “Think,” she murmured to herself. She had to kill him or at least render him unconscious. How was she going to do that and avoid letting him touch her or being cut by his dagger? Out of the corner of her eye Alana saw the demon creep around her toward Gellmy. The pair of seraphim in the doorway advanced toward it, their eyes blazing with white light. The demon hissed and beat a hasty retreat.

Gellmy seemed to sense Alana’s indecision. “Give up. You cannot win. There is no one to save you now. Your precious uncle has been banished. You are alone.”

Alana looked over at him and, for the briefest of moments, allowed her thoughts to travel down the path he desired. She was alone. There was no one here now who cared for her. Her father was too busy with the barony and her brother. From all indications, her own mother hated her. But then she brought herself up short. She looked beyond Gellmy and saw the seraphim standing in the doorway and behind them the four Noble gods, all of whom were now visible to her. They watched over her; she knew that as surely as she knew her own name. She was not alone.

Alana tightened her grip on the torch. She didn’t answer Gellmy—she didn’t want to be drawn into a war of words that would distract her. She kept her eyes on him and waited for him to make the first move. Uncle Iliard had taught her patience in battle. The surest way to lose was to be hasty or allow anger to get the best of you. She couldn’t afford to do either.

She moved a little to her right to try to get more in the shadows. This galvanized Gellmy into action. He ran towards her and slashed at her with his dagger. Alana blocked his strike with the torch and danced out of his way. Her years of trick riding came in handy. She could move in ways that most people couldn’t. She had to get behind him and try to bring the torch down on the back of his head. It was the best way to stop him.

Gellmy was enraged now. He thought he had an easy prey. She was just a girl. No matter how much she had adventured with her uncle, she was still just a girl. But, so far, she had proven herself an astute warrior. She never took her eyes off him. For his whole life he had relied upon fooling the unobservant. This girl wasn’t fooled for a moment. Now it was time for him to switch strategies. He would simply have to overpower her. He outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. All he had to do was knock her down and she was his. But he had to distract her first.

Alana saw the dagger coming at her, aimed straight for her heart. She dodged to her right and felt the dagger slice into her left arm before it fell to the floor. Gellmy ran at her low, grabbed her legs and sent both of them sprawling. Alana’s head and shoulders were inside the Sanctuary, inside the insubstantial robes of the seraphim. She felt the familiar pull in the center of her chest that meant she was about to teleport. Terror rose in her and she screamed, “No!” as she struggled to push herself away from her captor. An ethereal hand reached down and grasped hers and a deep voice said, “Hold on.” The seraph to her left had gone down on one knee beside her and taken her hand. Alana held onto his hand with all of her strength. The seraph on her right joined the first and took hold of her other hand. Alana felt the pull of the teleportation spell wane.

Gellmy wondered what was taking so long. The ring always teleported him instantaneously. Now nothing was happening. The little bitch had already kneed him in the face once. He was going to make sure he paid her back double when he got her to the Temple of Arnitath. He moved to tighten his grip on her legs but someone grabbed the hair on the top of his head and pulled hard backwards. An instant later, a dagger was being drawn slowly and painfully across his throat and he heard a soft voice say, “Let her go or I will finish it.” When Gellmy hesitated, the blade bit deeper into his flesh. When he cried out in pain, the same soft voice asked, “Do you think I jest?”

When Alana felt Gellmy’s weight pulled off her, she drew her legs into the Sanctuary. She barely heard Cranerock say to her, “Your father is coming.” She sat up, wrapped her arms around her legs and said nothing.

Taelerion gazed at his sister with amusement, “What was that about an appreciation for the law?”

Asaeria glared back at him, “I was merely maintaining a balance,” she answered haughtily.

“Is that what you call it?” he said with a chuckle. What I’d like to know is,” Taelerion went on, “who deflected the dagger?” Asaeria, Taelerion and Aniyatomei all stared at Diasamon.

The healer god shrugged and said, looking straight at Aniyatomei, “At least I did not summon the Assassin.”

#

“She hasn’t moved or spoken since I got here,” Cranerock said to Bertrand.

Bertrand looked at his daughter, who still sat on the floor of the Sanctuary with her arms wrapped around her legs. He glared down at Gellmy, who was now securely tied and minus his ring of teleportation—and the finger it had occupied. “Take him to the dungeons. I want to talk to him personally.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Cranerock said. He knelt down next to Gellmy and whispered, “I think the baron is unhappy with you. I’m hoping he’ll leave you to me after he’s done with you.” Gellmy could only whimper. Two of the guards who had come with Bertrand picked up Gellmy by his arms and dragged him down the hallway.

When Bertrand knelt down next to Alana, his eyes went wide. “Holy gods, you’re bleeding! I’m going to kill that son of bitch with my bare hands! Cranerock, get Saranya, right now!”

Cranerock gestured to the guard standing next to him and said softly, “You’d best run.” The guard nodded and sped away.

“It’s still out there,” Alana said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s still out there?” Bertrand asked, puzzled. “Do you mean Gellmy?”

“The demon,” she answered more firmly, “The demon is still there. He brought it with him.”

“Demon?” Bertrand said sharply. “What do you mean? Who brought a demon?”

“Francis. He brought it. He’s an agent of Arnitath.” She pointed to the center of her chest, “He’s got a quest mark.” Her voice lowered again. “He was trying to take me to the temple as a sacrifice.” She looked up at the seraphim, who still stood in the doorway. “They protected me. They saved me.”

“Who saved you?”

“The warriors of Asaeria.” She answered, her voice trembling. “They held on to me when he tried to teleport me”

Bertrand was torn between confusion and rage. He couldn’t see the demon or the seraphim, but he did know what a quest mark looked like. “Cranerock!” he shouted. “Bring him back here!”

Cranerock had the two guards drag Gellmy back towards the Sanctuary. Bertrand stepped out into the alcove, grabbed Gellmy’s shirt and tore it open. The quest mark was no longer glowing, and the blood from the cut on his neck had run down onto his chest and obscured the mark even more. Bertrand growled in frustration.

“Saranya is on her way,” Cranerock said.

While he waited for Saranya to arrive, Bertrand went back to sit with Alana. “It’ll be all right. Saranya will be here soon to heal you.” He carefully put an arm around her shoulders. Alana leaned into his body and slowly began to release her legs. Bertrand could feel her trembling.

“Papa, why?” she asked softly. “Why did he want me? He kept saying he finally found me. I don’t know what he was talking about. I’ve known him all my life. I’ve always been here.”

Bertrand’s arm tightened around her, and he murmured, “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

“My lord, Saranya is here,” a guard called out.

Bertrand started to get up, then looked back at Alana and asked, “Are you going to be all right for a little longer?”

Alana nodded and looked up at the seraphim. “They’ll watch over me.”

Bertrand looked at the empty doorway and frowned. He was going to have to talk to Saranya about this. There was a scuffle and he heard Saranya shout out something and saw a flash of light in the alcove. A horrendous shriek echoed through the Sanctuary. Bertrand ran to the doorway and saw Saranya standing over a cowering Gellmy. She turned to Bertrand, her eyes ablaze with fury. “What is this vassal of Arnitath doing here? I just banished his quest guardian!”

“Show me his quest mark,” Bertrand said.

Saranya had the guards hoist Gellmy up onto his feet. She took her holy symbol from around her neck and pressed it against Gellmy’s chest. Gellmy screamed in agony as the eagle of Asaeria burned his skin. Saranya pulled away the amulet to reveal the quest mark of Arnitath glowing red-orange in the middle of Gellmy’s chest. Bertrand turned on Cranerock and shouted, “You said he was just a spy for Galiblent!”

Cranerock’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly—the only real sign of his discomfort—and he said quietly, “That is what I and Lord Iliard determined when we first investigated him. The Priest of Arnitath must have put him under a concealment spell. His aura is very different now.”

“Aura?! Taelerion’s beard What kind of cow dung is that?! By all that’s holy he…Alana was almost…” Bertrand stopped, unable to speak of the atrocities that would have been committed on his daughter’s body.

Saranya put a steadying hand on his arm, “As much as it pains me Bert, I must agree with Cranerock. Francis Gellmy has been in your employ for years. If he had not been concealed, Iliard would have detected him at once. It also seems he was very careful to stay well away from me and my fellow Priests, else we might have discovered his true nature much sooner. My question is, why is he here? He has been here for many years without incident. Why now does he show himself? What has happened that has caused him to shed his disguise? And why did he try to take Alana specifically when there are so many other virginal young women in this castle who are far more accessible?”

Bertrand looked hard at Cranerock, “I suggest you find out. Bring Lyria in too.”

Cranerock nodded his head, “Yes, my Lord.”

Bertrand turned to Saranya. “Alana is wounded.”

“I’ll tend to her right away,” Saranya said and went into the sanctuary.

As Cranerock started to direct the guards toward the dungeons, Bertrand said, “Wait.” When he had the attention of Cranerock and the guards he continued, “This goes no further. No one, I mean no one else in this castle is to know about this. Cranerock and I will come up with a reasonable explanation for Gellmy’s…disappearance.” He looked at the guards and asked, “Have I made myself clear?”

The three men said, “Yes, my Lord.”

“Good. Now take him away before I kill him right here.”

Inside the sanctuary, Saranya knelt down beside Alana and gently touched her wounded arm. “Does it hurt much?” she asked.

Alana slowly turned to her head to look at the Priestess. “What?”

Saranya recognized shock when she saw it. She put her arm under Alana’s and helped her up. “Let’s go over to a bench so I can heal you properly.” The Priestess brought her over the bench in front of Asaeria’s statue and sat her down. “All right,” she said briskly, “let’s see how bad it is.” She carefully pulled up Alana’s sleeve to expose the wound left by Gellmy’s knife. The cut wasn’t too deep and it was clean. She put one hand on Alana’s arm and the other on her head and murmured a soft prayer.

To Alana it sounded like the sweetest music. The foul stain of the demon’s presence was washed away by the refreshing cleansing of Saranya’s healing. She shuddered and let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said softly. “And thank you for banishing the demon.”

“Oh, you heard that?” Saranya asked.

“I saw it,” Alana replied.

Saranya looked at her in surprise. “Saw it? You mean the demon?” Alana nodded. “How?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Bertrand said as he joined them.

Alana flinched slightly at the tone of his voice. Saranya stood up and said quietly, “Bert, let me talk to her.”

Bertrand looked down at his daughter. She looked so despondent that his heart contracted with pain. He wished he could do more for her. “Maybe it’ll help,” he murmured. “She said she saw seraphim too,” he added.

Saranya sat back down next Alana. “Is that true? Did you see the seraphim?”

“Yes,” Alana replied. “They saved me. They stopped Gellmy from teleporting away with me.”

“How long have you been able to see the minions of the gods?” the Priestess asked.

Again Alana shrugged. “I don’t know. As long as I can remember really. As long as I’ve been talking to Anya anyway.”

Saranya frowned. “Anya?” The Priestess threw a questioning look at Bertrand, who shrugged.

Alana pointed to the shrine of the Mother Goddess. “Aniyatomei. When I was a little girl I used to come here a lot and talk to her. She would listen to me and sometimes hold me when I was sad.” Alana looked down at her hands and said softly, “She’s the only real mother I’ve ever had.”

Bertrand cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Saranya put up her hand, but kept her attention focused on Alana. In a very deliberate voice she asked, “Alana, are you saying that you can see and speak to Aniyatomei?”

Alana nodded without looking up. “She told me a long time ago that I could always come here when I was sad. That’s why I was here tonight.”

“Have you ever seen or spoken to any of the other gods?” the Priestess asked.

“I’ve spoken to Asaeria and Taelerion a few times. I’ve only ever seen Diasamon. He never talks to me.” She smiled wanly, “Taelerion said it was because he was too high and mighty. Asaeria said he was waiting until I got older.” Alana swallowed hard and said hoarsely, “That almost didn’t happen.” She blinked rapidly and clenched her fists in her lap, trying to keep herself from breaking down.

Saranya put her hand on Alana’s shoulder. “There is no shame in tears, Alana. What happened to you tonight would be terrifying for anyone.”

Alana shook her head. “I want to be a warrior like Uncle Iliard. I cannot cry every time something bad happens to me. I have to be strong.” Neither Alana nor Saranya noticed the look of pain in Bertrand’s eyes.

Saranya said, “I have seen seasoned warriors—like your uncle—break down after a particularly brutal battle. Strength is shown in what you do with the gifts you have. It comes from the heart. Tears are not a sign weakness.”

Alana nodded silently and bit her bottom lip. She bowed her head and closed her eyes as tears slid slowly down her cheeks. Bertrand put his hand on Alana’s shoulder and said, “I think that’s enough questions for tonight. She needs sleep.”

Saranya stood up, “Yes, of course.”

Alana looked up and said, “Wait Saranya, I want to ask you something.”

“Of course, Alana, what is it?”

“Do other people see what I see?”

Saranya glanced over at Bertrand before she answered. “Well, although most people cannot see the minions of the gods unless they are third order Priests, it is not unheard of for non-Priests to see seraphim and demons. It is just very rare.”

“But, what about the other…I can see the gods.”

Saranya hesitated. “I must be honest with you. I have never known or heard of anyone who can see and speak to more than one god. Usually a High Priest or Priestess can speak directly to their god—on rare occasions—but to be able to see and speak to all of them…”

“But that’s just it,” Alana said with a frown, “If I can see and speak to them,” she waved her hand to indicate the entire Sanctuary, “Then doesn’t it mean that I would be able to see and speak to…” her voice lowered and shook slightly, “the other two?”

Saranya shook her head. “I do not know. I wish I could say for certain. It must frighten you. I know it would me. But it is possible you would not see the others,” she added thoughtfully, “because you have only seen the Noble gods here in this sanctuary. It is doubtful you would go to a temple of Arnitath or Igea.”

Alana shuddered. “Not willingly. But,” she went on quietly, “I saw the demon outside this temple.”

Saranya sighed softly. “Yes you did.” She closed her eyes and brought her hands together in prayer. Out of the corner of her eye, Alana saw a seraph appear. She walked over to the Priestess and touched her shoulder. Saranya looked up at the warrior angel and bowed her head respectfully. The seraph held up her hand, palm outward. Shining white on the palm of her hand was the symbol of Asaeria. Saranya’s eyes widened and she glanced at Alana. She placed her hands together once again and bowed deeply. When the Priestess straightened up, the seraph placed her palm on the center of Saranya’s chest. She then took her place beside Saranya.

Saranya turned and smiled at Alana. “It seems my goddess believes you to be very important.” She reached around her neck and took off her holy symbol—the image of an eagle in flight bearing a sword in its talons, cut out in silver. “I am to give you this.” She put the chain around Alana’s neck. “Asaeria’s protection is yours for the asking.”

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what’s going on,” Bertrand asked irritably.

“I have been tasked by my goddess to assist in Alana’s protection,” Saranya replied.

“You mean you just got quested right here in this room?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” she answered solemnly. “Alana must be very special indeed.”

Bertrand let out an explosive breath. “I think we’ve had enough ‘specialness’ for one day.” He put his hand on Alana’s shoulder. “I’m going to take you back to your rooms. Gormin will set up a watch outside. No one will get in.”

“Is Uncle Iliard coming back?” Alana asked hopefully.

“No,” Bertrand answered curtly. “He has other things to do right now.”

Alana just stood up silently. She had no energy to argue with her father now. “Good night Saranya,” she said quietly, “Thank you.”

“Good night Alana. I am glad I was able to help.”

Bertrand put his arm around Alana’s shoulders and said, “Let’s get you some sleep.”

Alana nodded silently. A feeling of lassitude hit her hard and without warning. The walk back to her room seemed endless. She felt like she could barely pick up her feet. When they finally got to her rooms, there were already two guards standing outside the door. Her father walked with her into her bedroom. She stopped at the foot of her bed and said, “I’ll be all right. I’m very tired, I just want to sleep.”

“All right, if you’re sure, I’ll go and let you sleep,” he said a bit reluctantly.

“I’m sure,” she answered firmly. “I’ll be fine.”

Bertrand sighed, “I’m sorry this happened. It shouldn’t have.” He pulled her into a hug.

For a moment, Alana felt like a little girl again, wrapped up in her father’s leathers. She almost wished that she could go back to that time, but she knew that she never could. Her life would never be the same after tonight. “It’s all right,” she answered after a while, “You didn’t know. Even Uncle Iliard didn’t know. You all thought he was just a spy for Baron Galiblent.”

Bertrand pulled away from her and took a good look at her. “You heard that, did you?” He sighed heavily. “I wish I could keep all the asinine politics away from you, but I guess I can’t.”

Alana shrugged, “I am as much a part of it as you and Bert. I doubt I’ll ever get away from it.”

“Huh,” Bertrand murmured unhappily. “I guess you’d better get some sleep.”

Alana hugged him again briefly and said, “I will. Good night, Papa.”

Bertrand pulled her back and held her tightly. “Good night,” he murmured gruffly.

After her father was gone, Alana sat on the edge of her bed deep in thought. Even after all that had happened, she still wanted to be a warrior. But how was that to happen now? She was certain her father would have guards following her around all the time. It seemed like Uncle Iliard wasn’t allowed back in the castle. He had already said that he might not be able to take her adventuring anymore but if he couldn’t come to the castle, how could he see that she got the training she so desperately wanted?

She let out a growl of frustration. Why had her father banished Uncle Illy? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had protected her. He would have been the one to find her if Gellmy had taken her. She reached over to her nightstand and picked up the blue vase. Uncle Iliard told her to put it in her window if she ever needed him. She didn’t know if what she felt was need, but she wanted to see him very badly.

She went over to her window and opened it. She put the blue vase on the outer window ledge like Uncle Iliard had told her and closed the window. She turned around and gasped. The light in her room had gone out and standing just a few feet away from her was the god Arnitath. Alana froze with fear as she stared at her worst nightmare come true.

“You think you have escaped me,” the demon god hissed at her. “You are mistaken. You are mine. You will serve me in life and in death.”

Alana grasped at the holy symbol that hung around her neck and somehow found the courage to speak. “Never. In life or in death.”

Arnitath’s eyes glowed red with fury as he took a step closer to her. Alana had a brief, horrifying vision of herself chained, naked and spread-eagled on a bloody altar, and felt the cold edge of the knife touch her skin. Even as panic filled her, another, more familiar figure appeared. “You overstep your bounds, brother,” Asaeria said sternly. “This child is under my protection. Never forget that. Be gone.” Arnitath made a noise that sounded like something between a hiss and a snarl and disappeared.

Alana began to tremble. “He was going to kill me right here,” she said.

“He wanted you to think that, but that is not possible, Asaeria said reassuringly, “We are not permitted to walk this plane. What you see is merely a dim reflection of our true nature. Our touch is merely a projection of our thoughts. My brother wishes you harm, but he himself cannot truly harm you unless you surrender yourself to him.”

Alana shook her head vehemently. “I will never do that.”

“Well said, child, but you may find that it becomes more difficult as you become more powerful. Always remember this night. No good will ever come from giving yourself over to him.” The goddess put her hand gently on Alana’s cheek. “Now sleep, child. Sleep in peace. No dreams will haunt you tonight.” Alana nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep. Somehow she got herself undressed and into bed where she fell asleep immediately, unaware of the two white-robed seraphim who stood on either side her bed.

#

When Alana came out of her bedroom in the morning, the castle guard, Kira, was standing inside the anteroom. “Good morning my Lady,” she said brightly.

“Good morning, Kira,” Alana replied quietly. “I suppose you’re my bodyguard?”

“I’d rather call it escort for the day,” Kira responded with a smile.

Alana couldn’t help but smile back. “I wonder how long Father will think I need…an escort.”

“Probably only until Lord Master Wizard Faraday puts the teleportation wards on the castle,” Kira answered.

“Teleportation wards?” Alana responded. “I thought we already had wards.”

“Only alerts,” Kira said. “These wards will stop any teleportation in and out of the castle. I’ve heard that your father is bringing in the Grandmaster Sorcerer himself to protect against other kinds of teleportation.”

Alana just looked at Kira silently and then asked, “No one will able to teleport into the castle?”

Kira shook her head. “No.”

“Oh,” Alana replied, biting her bottom lip. After a moment of awkward silence she went on, “I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Kira asked.

“For…not obeying my mother yesterday. I hope you didn’t get into trouble.”

Kira shook her head. “No. The Baron thanked me. I didn’t do anything but what was right.”

“Well, you’re a good person,” Alana replied.

“Huh, you should meet my sister.” Kira replied wryly. “She’s a Paladin of Asaeria. Now, she’s a good person.”

Alana laughed. “You don’t have to be a Paladin to be a good person. Uncle Iliard isn’t a Paladin, but he’s a very good person.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Kira said. After a short pause she continued, “You know, it’s a really nice day. It’s a good day for a ride out to the north wall.”

Alana frowned, ready to deny her desire to ride. Then her eyes widened in comprehension, “Really?” she asked excitedly, “But it’s not even sunset.”

Kira shrugged and answered, “I guess he decided to make an exception.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said as she ran back into her bedroom to change into her riding gear.

A short time later the pair were riding through the small grove of trees that grew around the castle. Even before they got to the outer edge of the grove, Alana saw her uncle standing in the shadows. She launched herself off her horse and ran straight into Iliard’s open arms. Iliard held her tightly for a very long time. “Thank Asaeria you’re all right,” he finally said, pulling away from her just a bit and looking at her face. “Tell me what happened.”

Alana told him everything that had happened from the time she walked out of the Sanctuary until she went to bed, leaving nothing out. When she was finished, Iliard just stared at her silently. “I should have killed him years ago,” he murmured fiercely. “I knew there was something wrong about him. I should have listened to my instincts.” He sighed and went on, “But I am proud of the way you handled yourself.”

Alana shook her head. “If it hadn’t been for the warriors of Asaeria, he would have taken me. I would have been killed before anyone found me. I was lucky.”

Iliard held her tightly again and, for the briefest of moments, Alana thought he was trembling. But the moment passed and she thought she must have imagined it. “It will not happen again, I can promise you that,” he murmured. He let go of her and took a step back. “Luck had little to do with your escape. You are being watched over by the gods for some special purpose. You must always remember that. Your life was spared so that you can go on to do great things. Live that way, Alana.”

Alana nodded silently, surprised by Iliard’s outburst. After a few moments she asked, “Do you know what Francis meant when he said he finally found me? It still doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Iliard shook his head and said, “I cannot answer that right now. I need to know more. One day, I hope I can tell you why he said that.”

“So do I,” she replied.

Kira cleared her throat. “We should get back now, my lady, before people start wondering where you are.”

Alana sighed. “All right.” Looking at Iliard she asked, “When will I be able to see you again?”

“I don’t know, small one. Your father will be watching over you much more now,” Iliard said. “We’ll have to take it as it comes. Don’t overuse the blue vase.”

“I won’t,” Alana answered sadly. She put her arms around Iliard and said, “I’m going to miss you.”

“And I will miss you,” he replied

Alana drew away from him and mounted her horse. Before she had even turned Dancer’s head around, her Uncle Iliard was gone.

As she and Kira rode back toward the castle she said, “Why do I have the feeling that things are going to get worse instead of better?”