Ankh: Dunpeal [Generation Iii]

By Bonnie J. Snowden

In a world where Vampires rule, humans are treated as animals to be kept and fed upon. But when one Dunpeal (half human, half vampire), kept secluded from the world and ignorant of its politics, begins her Quest to find her estranged parents, her Quest shakes the very foundation of the monarchy. Joined by a guard from a nearby town that protects her from the sunlight, they discover that ignorance is a danger in this world, but sometimes the pursuit of a truth is just as deadly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 4, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450076999

Bonnie J. Snowden

A Theatre technician by trade, Bonnie spends most of her time listening to the rain, reading books and making bald men blue.

Book preview

Ankh:Dunpeal

[Generation III]

_______________

BONNIE J. SNOWDEN

Copyright © 2010 by Bonnie J. Snowden.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

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My thanks to my Vegas Vampire friends: you have spawned a monster.

To my family: you gave me an overactive imagination and let movies and books fuel it.

Thanks to Andrew: for helping me get this story started.

And a massive I-owe-you to Bart: for keeping me sane and always assuring me this story was worth publishing… even when it wasn’t.

1

Shadows fell gently over the valleys of Lac’aroon. Darkness filled with silence hung on the mountains. Little moved in the valley; nothing lived there anymore. Even the animals were wary of its lush grounds. Ever since the world changed and the new race had come to power, this area was off limits. It was the sacred meeting place of the ruling entity, The Queen. The moon rose in its luminous path that made the shadows of the eleven travelers long and eerie. One rode on horseback while the other ten walked silently, flanking the animal and its ward. Somewhere to the south another traveler also came, but this one traveled alone. The lone traveler was hampered by a heavy load she carried, but if all was to go to plan, all twelve travelers would converge together at the mouth of the sacred cave when the moon reached its zenith.

Rowika was late by minutes only, but still it displeased The Queen. She entered silently to see that the entire court was already assembled. The Queen sat on the granite seat chiseled roughly from its original form. Her face was inexpressive and perfect, marred only by the two lines of charcoal running from her right temple to her left jaw line. She resonated displeasure. Rowika observed a new member to The Queen’s left, the only man in the cave. He had four thin lines across his face. The other nine women looked similar, slight, pale, and powerful; but Rowika knew them by name. All nine had either two or three thin lines of charcoal. Rank, as in all court situations, was very important here and always needed to be obvious to everyone. Rowika stopped at the mouth of the cave, leaning heavily on a gnarled stick for support. Her cape flapped in the breeze.

Moments echoed in the disagreeable silence of the dark cave. You are late.

My apologies, great Queen. I bring you a gift.

The eyes of The Queen were unrelenting. They bore into Rowika’s mind. Old business first, Magic One. What news do you bring from the shepherds?

Rowika was not surprised that her offer of gifts was brushed aside. She straightened under her cloak. The shepherds report excellent herds for Her Majesty and request that she come round to sample the goods at her pleasure. Shorda took control of three more flocks in Amptol, and Raya gained control of another two in Lok Lormik. Iko seems to be showing Sympathatic signs in Kor… but Telya has already volunteered to watch her next years of progress personally. Rowika gestured to the dark-skinned woman at The Queen’s right who bore a great bow on her back. The herds are showing some signs of displeasure at their new ownership, but the remainder of the shepherds assured me they could handle everything. I still believe that with a little time and efforts on both sides, the herds could be used as a source of knowledge and support as well as revenue and nourishment if, my lady, you would only see how much good—

But The Queen cut off the passionate speech Rowika was about to deliver. She knew already what Rowika was about to say and was unmoved by the plights of the sheep.

Now what is this gift you offer to me?

Rowika discarded her cloak. It fell to the rock floor with a whispered drop. In a moment the cave atmosphere changed. The silence went from icy irritation to flaming indignation and terror. Rowika stood before the graceful forms of the eleven, belly swollen, clearly with child. She showed no fear or anxiety to the court, but the attitudes of the rest were apparent. Several women roared with anger, one turned pale and unsheathed her sword, the man hissed and looked to his Queen for help, and The Queen stared, silent and angry. Tell me, Magic One, who is the coconspirator of this offspring you bear?

Rowika remained silently defiant before the court. But she knew her silence was deadly.

The Queen’s eyes narrowed slightly. Treason, is it? Tell me what this is you are bringing to my counsel or I will have you killed immediately as a traitor.

I have brought you this gift, oh Queen, that can set the world in peace for you if you let her. I do not fear you. You cannot kill an innocent Queen. It is law, even if she is… a dunpeal.

The Queen stood, revolted. Her eyes focused only on Rowika. The laws can be changed for the beastly offspring of blood-traitors!

You wrote them… with your own blood, I remember?

The Queen sneered. Blood oaths were not easy to break, even for queens and gods. And who will take up your mantle when you die, because rest assured, you will not leave here alive. If you fail to name the heir to your title, I shall just have to wait until I meet someone that displays all the correct allegiances and talents that you so lamentably lack. The choice is yours. You have only seconds to make your decision though… Beside her, the man had already drawn his axe. It glittered greedily in the moonlight, his eyes to match. With bone-chilling metallic sounds and precision, each lady drew her weapon as well. In less than a heartbeat, four blades, three bows, a spear, an axe, and a set of sais were leveled at Rowika. Death had truly descended on her, taking the form of The Queen’s agents, and Rowika could feel it breathe in the form of the wind howling into the cave system.

Rowika sighed.

How dare you sigh in my presence? To utter such a human trait in the presence of the second-generation Queen is treason enough! Rowika, Magic One, how could you commit such heresy? We revel in human flesh, but we do not procreate with them! This Court is pure! The hour of your death has finally come and there will be no more mistakes! You will die here with that thing you carry.

The Queen’s eyes flashed the fire that burned in her spirit. Rowika had never noticed how much fire lived in her Queen. If The Queen was fire, then Rowika was earth—stable, sensible, compassionate earth. Knowing what to do next, she locked eyes with her Queen. You demand I name my successor, very well, I name my daughter.

The successor must be alive to be named. I will not accept a successor that is not yet born. Choose again, Rowika, a member that breathes in this very cave if you can!

In a flash it was done. The Queen realized and hailed her male subservient to strike, but it was too late. Rowika had already grabbed a small knife from her belt, and with a quick slash, birthed her daughter in torrents of blood and iron. Rowika fell to her knees and whispered over the child the most powerful magic she knew and had ever used. The use of magic filled the cave with sudden light and gathered around the still mass a golden bubble. The Court was forced to cover its eyes in the brilliance of the display. Rowika seized the opportunity of confusion and muttered a few words to her daughter. The bubble disappeared, leaving the child screaming on her mother’s bloody, crumpled form. A small black birthmark appeared on the neck of the infant, the sign of her magic.

Rowika sputtered, Blood oaths and laws… Queen Mira… meet my daughter. With that, Rowika lost consciousness.

The Queen stood in silent fury. The child screamed from the floor of her royal court, a dunpeal child. Horror filled her from head to foot and flashed in her eyes. Her manservant had already begun to advance on the infant and unconscious mother when a desperate idea flashed into the mind of the most wise and ingenious Queen. "Roth, wrap that thing and bring it to me, I have not yet had the pleasure of bestowing a gift on our new member. As for her mother, throw that dead hag into the forest. I hardly think she will open her eyes to a new day again. She always was a brutal disgrace."

The other women in the cave nodded in silent agreement. Rowika had never fit in. She tried too hard to make peace with warring neighbors, cavorting with humans and now rearing the child of one. She was a brutal disgrace and deserved to feed the animals she cared for more than her kin.

Roth wrapped the screaming child in a strip of black silk from his shirt and held it like a basket at arm’s length, the child teetering in its loop. He handed the bundle to The Queen before he dragged the body out of the mouth of the cave and, with all his inhuman strength, flung it into the trees. He vaguely saw a cloud of rotting leaves rear up where the body fell and grimaced at the idea of a clan member going as wrong as to be thrown away like a fallen stone. He turned back to the cave to see what his mistress had in mind for the little heir of Magic.

The Queen was holding the child in the same dangerous manner Roth had. The infant teetered back and forth, almost falling from the silk in her screams and sobs. But the voice of The Queen was louder.

Offspring of my second, I wish only to give you a gift. It is the curse of our blood that we do not stay long in the rays of the sun. It is for this reason that we so prefer the heavenly moonlight to do our deeds of government, economy, and pleasure. The diminutive power of the moonlight lets us gather the vitamins we need from sun without its heat. But you, small abomination, I grant the gift of complete darkness. For what we cannot endure of the sun by day, you will suffer its wrath ten times as severe. Sunlight will be your downfall, moonlight will cause you pain, and even starlight will make you suffer. You see, little one, I cannot kill you outright by law and decree, but my gift shall be your downfall and when you are dead and crying with your mother in your shared wormy grave, I shall find a new magical successor who will help me rule the world in a way your mother could never understand. I will stand as the undivided Queen for eternity, and your death will make it so. Die well, dunpeal abomination, in pain and hunger and boils. After her decree, she threw the screaming infant to Roth, who nearly dropped her before remembering to be repulsed by her existence. The Queen charged him to place her with her mother.

Roth left for his mission with disdain. Being the only fourth generation meant that he was the errand boy to The Queen, a prestigious job, but one that left him out of most affairs of government. The Queen had begun speaking with her court, a new lordly tone in her voice as he left. He was not even noticed to be gone. Looking around where Rowika landed, suddenly it seemed important that he noticed where he had thrown her body.

It wasn’t hard to find her. She had bled more, leaving dark black ooze on the ground. The sight excited him slightly, but reminding himself of his mission, he laid the baby next to its mother, but it kept screaming. He became suddenly aware of the silence of the forest. The hideous noise would reach the cave and disturb The Queen. Hastily he decided to force the mother as much as he could around the baby. The extra volume stifled the screams to a degree. Before he left, he looked once more at the symbol at the child’s neck. He grinned. It was shaped like a crude cross with a loop on its top, an ancient symbol. It meant longevity. Satisfied, he blew the child a mocking kiss and began to climb back to the cave.

Silence enfolded both mother and daughter. Suddenly Rowika shook. She struggled to bring herself back out of the coma she had induced after her benediction. As her consciousness began to return, she looked about in the darkness. They were alone. It was then that she noticed the great sores that were growing from the child’s arms where the moon wafted through the thick thatching of the leaves. The wind howled, bringing a great chill and the promise of rain. Rowika decided to give the infant the only other thing she could give her in her fatal condition.

It took the rest of her strength, but Rowika pushed her hands flat to the ground and propped her torso upright. Once her arms were straight, she pushed her knees into the soil and made a table with her body. Like this she shielded the child from the elements. Her head was down close to the baby. Blood was flowing freely from her ripped stomach, down her arms and onto the infant’s screaming face.

My body will be your shelter and my blood will be your nourishment, and tomorrow, another will find you here and rear you as his own… but know that I will always love you. You have a great destiny to fulfill. With that, her body turned into a rough stone bench, blood running down its legs steadily from a great unending source. The baby screamed until it could scream no more, cried until it could cry no more, drank little from the bloodied earth, and fell asleep exhausted.

2

15 years later in HOLTA

The sun burned brightly in the west. Kevlik moved his horse a little farther into the shadows so the golden rays wouldn’t penetrate his eyes. His coal gray steed Ceres whinnied softly, hungry or anxious, sometimes even Kevlik couldn’t tell. His shift would keep him out patrolling the gates of Holta until the sun broke the line of trees and then another respective hour after that. Two lines of troops would replace him for the night shift. He wasn’t particularly anxious to be relieved. Actually, Kevlik found he rather liked his position. As a Lordly Knight of Holta, he was accustomed to the very best cuts of meat, the best tailors, the very best of entertainment, and the highest rank in society that any human could attain. In fact, he had always felt very lucky and proud… and all it cost him was his own blood.

That particular night, the gates were quiet. Only a few well-known, respected tradesmen and two silent travelers headed toward Amptol had passed the gates. A woman with a very large rickety cart had come through and tried with all her aging womanly wiles to persuade him to leave his post, but he knew better. A comrade of his had fallen for such a trick and it had cost him his life. No women with fine curves, no matter how fine or how curvaceous (and there were some with little left to wonder that enticed) could prompt him to leave his post. The Shepherdess of Holta, Roxannavich, was a brutal and passionate sort of ruler. She was also jealous. When Kevlik had turned thirteen four years ago, she had singled him out for this very career and also for her personal consort. Kevlik shifted uncomfortably as he remembered that the two went hand in hand. Almost unconsciously, he raised his hand in the amber light and touched the bruised portion of his neck. He had a month to recoup and watch the gates… and then back to the mansion.

He enjoyed the sounds and smells of the outdoors. If he had not been made a Lordly Knight, he guessed he might have actually made a rather good hunter or military man. He always did have a longing for adventure, especially after he became consort to Roxannavich. Kevlik fancied himself strong and brave but also kind and fair: all in all, he was nothing less than perfect, except for that air of perfection that often leads to thoughts of self-importance and pride. So he might have been a little full of himself, was that such a life-threatening offense?

It was probably only a few heartbeats away from his relief when Kevlik saw a stranger walk in from the woods. Everything was darkening in the ghostly setting evening. All he noticed at first was that the trees seemed to move more than usual, no, swagger. And not all the trees, just the ones from the left of the trail. But those weren’t trees, he considered. It had more form than that, and trees don’t advance and grow larger upon approach; trees don’t actually approach at all. It was after this expert line of thinking that Kevlik finally agreed to himself that the advancing figure must be a person, and not a tall person at that; they appeared to be arriving on foot. Most people Kevlik saw at this gate, facing the woods and the western sun, rode horses. She did not. It was a she. Head to toe, black cloak and dress, boots and gloves, scarf and hair, crossbow: all black. Kevlik couldn’t even make out her face, but her form gave her away entirely. No man could have that many curves and grace. She had arrived at his elbow even before his final analysis was reached.

Halt, miss, you must declare your intentions in our town before I can let you enter. He felt powerful on Ceres; he towered over the strange girl with the sun at his back that he realized he must look godly to her, haloed by the sun. Like the son God himself.

I seek my lineage. Nothing more.

He gazed at her. She hadn’t even looked up at him to speak. He felt fairly disappointed by her response and moved in front of her to block her entry to the town. She would have to look up at him, see how wonderful he looked, how beautiful in the fading sun, fall in love with him and ask him to escort her to her room. He would be relieved momentarily anyhow, and his curiosity for what was behind that black mask grew with every passing moment. Besides, he actually needed more answers than that to let her through anyhow.

Tell me where you come from that you seek shelter here. How long do you plan to stay? If you need a bed, I might have one to offer. Okay, he thought, it was a bad line considering she had no face at present, but he still felt compelled to say it, as if some magic pulled it from his lips.

I have been here before, with Bosch from the forest. My stay will be determined singularly on the amount of information that is here to gather about my lineage and the time it takes to retrieve it. As for bedding, I would hardly allow you near my bed: safety first.

She curtly began to walk by. Astonished, he rushed to stop her. Insolent girl of the forest! But I think I remember this Bosch of yours. He was a villain. He was identified three months ago here in town as a sought-after thief and smuggler, trying to swindle our vegetable vendors and dyers while selling a great deal of fine hides, probably stolen from some other unsuspecting town or traveler. He had with him a girl in brown rabbit fur, head to toe— He choked. It wasn’t possible. That girl had been only around thirteen, head to toe in furs and poorly draped patchwork leathers. But this girl was all silk and soft leathers, fabrics that were tailored to cling to every perfect curve, boots that rose beyond the hem of the uneven skirt into areas his imagination could only glimpse, and gloves that disappeared into her shoulder. If you say you seek your lineage, then I take it Bosch was not a relative?

Clearly.

Very unhelpful. Tell me then, girl, who is it that you do seek here in Holta? What are their names and then perhaps I can escort you to them. Fail to tell me and I will escort you to the prison instead for insolence. It seemed a bit harsh, even in his own mind, but what was said was said and when you were in authority it did not do to second-guess your own demands.

I seek my parents. Before he abandoned me, Bosch left a note telling me simply to find them. This is the only place I know to start looking. I do not know their names.

She had not moved an inch, nor had she turned to look at him yet. Kevlik could hear the troops approaching to relieve his shift. He picked at a scar on his chin that he had had since childhood. How do you plan to find them if you do not know them?

I will know them.

Very unhelpful again. Exasperated and wishing above all things to discharge the girl before the troops arrived—after all, it would make him look incompetent if he couldn’t even question one little girl on foot—he tried one last tactic: the direct tactic. Sure he had been off duty in the mansion for the past three months, but he didn’t want the other men thinking he had been softened in his job. Girl, tell me your name as an order of the Lordly Knight of Holta!

I was never given a birth name. Bosch once told me I was found with the symbol of longevity on my neck and on the bench he found me under. He thought it was the gods’ way of telling him to care for me, repeating that symbol, and he always obeyed the gods. He called it an ankh. Therefore, I am Ankh, the Dunpeal.

Suddenly Kevlik found he felt very grateful that the troops were several feet away, heavily armed and gaining quickly. He tried to contain his sudden shock and surprise by steadying Ceres who had begun to fidget with the sudden slack in the reins. Kevlik made sure he kept his ground between this Dunpeal Ankh and the gates, listening to the sounds of the approaching soldiers. She still hadn’t moved an inch. You say you are a dunpeal?

That is what I said.

Then tell me quickly, Dunpeal Ankh, which side do you support? Are you a shepherdess? His hands were sweaty.

I support only what will help me find my lineage. I do not know what you mean by shepherdess.

Her voice was low and calm, almost melodic. He felt captivated by her presence, but the troops that filed in a long line behind him brought him back to his senses. She was dangerous. More so than any other dunpeal he had met, and this he knew only by the mere presence of her. She hadn’t claimed a side, nor did she confirm or deny her role as a shepherdess. There was only one thing to do with a dunpeal who didn’t claim sides.

Kevlik felt more powerful with the men behind him even though they had not yet spoken a word or drawn any weapons. A small army against one woman. He felt himself straighten in the saddle. Dunpeal Ankh, I say again, claim your loyalties. He knew that every soldier listened intently and could even hear a few reach for their weapons behind him. If you do not claim a side, you will be taken to see the Major who will lock you up until you do claim a side. Do you understand?

She did not move or say a word. Kevlik twitched uneasily. He had started to feel stupid, yelling at a girl in front of his men. His mind yelled at him, She is dangerous, take her in! Bring these armed men to protect you while you go. Do you understand? Why do you not answer?

I understand nothing of what you say about sides and loyalties, so I said nothing.

Kevlik did not appreciate her brand of logic. He examined her for a long moment, motioned for half of the guards to remove their weapons and follow him and motioned for the rest to stay and guard the gate. Carefully, he shifted his weight, swung his leg over the saddle, and landed on the ground with a graceful sort of crunch of gravel. He threw the reins of Ceres to the closest guard accompanying him and walked slowly to Ankh. She was not tall; but looking at her now, he noticed there was a thin, nearly transparent black silk scarf carefully wrapped around her head, leaving only a shadowed slit where her eyes might be.

I need your crossbow and any other weapons. She didn’t move. By the power I have in this town, I am taking you to see the Major, he will decide what is best to do with you, but you cannot approach the Major so armed.

He could feel heat, was it the wind? Give me your weapons or I shall have to frisk you. The heat increased. Sunshine? No, he decided she was just angry and it resonated. Still, she had not moved.

Look—he advanced on her, speaking low and soft—I want to help you here, give me your weapons and I’ll take you to see the Major and then I’ll do everything I can to help you find your family, I just want to help. He loved little lies; they had gotten him so far in life already. But this had a response he had not anticipated. The heat vanished as she turned her head quickly and stared at him through the gauze. He stood perfectly still, a bear in a trap. Either seconds went by or hours, it made no difference to Kevlik while Ankh kept his eyes locked.

You?

He swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t look away. Yes. He barely even mouthed the words before she looked away and whatever spell was gone. In barely a second, she held her crossbow like an offering to him. Kevlik turned to place the weapon on the horse. He shook his head; what the hell had happened? He was a Lordly Knight for gods’ sake; he needed to get a grip. Having secured the exquisite crossbow on Ceres, he turned back to collect Ankh. Instead he found her holding a crude pack of throwing knives, a dagger in a leather pouch, a collection of wooden bolts for the bow, and a long, thin sword. He had no idea where those had all been hidden. Kevlik looked over at his fellow guards, all of whose mouths hung open. It was fair to suspect that not all of those items had been located in ladylike places. In fact, he more than suspected that some had been on those boots that went all the way up to nowhere. Suddenly, Kevlik cursed himself for not frisking her when he had the chance.

Having stowed Ankh’s small arsenal on Ceres, Kevlik took her by the arm and led her into the darkened town. She hadn’t protested the contact, nor had she looked at him again. His mind was full of questions, but he doubted she would answer anything and most unclaimed dunpeal needed persuasion to finally claim their side. The Major filled his role very well in these circumstances.

They walked silently down the narrow side streets of Holta. The main street was quite large, lavishly decorated, swathed with banners and flags, gardens, and trees and even the occasional fountain. The town was quite big by most standards, but when one brought an unclaimed dunpeal to processing, the less people that saw the better, hence the side streets. Two guards marched in front, pikes in hand, clearing any stragglers on the street. Behind was the remainder of Kevlik’s chosen guard. The two behind had bows, another two had swords, hands on hilts. The streets were nearly deserted anyhow. But from the smaller brick and stone buildings, he could see the occasional inquisitive mother or sleepless, curious child. Kevlik served and protected these people in particular, he reminded himself, so he tightened his grip on Ankh’s smallish arm. She did not protest.

As they neared the Major’s stone lodging, Kevlik began to feel sorry he was going to turn her over. She, he thought, could have made a great diversion for his month long sabbatical from the mansion. He wanted to say something more to her, something kind or seductive, but she was cold and silent. All he could do was sigh and regret the tortures that awaited her and then they were at the weathered wooden door.

Kevlik knocked twice. The wind had started to move quickly down the barren road. Sporadic lights were all along the windy lane, but more windows were dark than lit. In the distance, atop the only hill in the town, the light of the mansion shone like a beacon, and soft music wafted from its halls like a siren’s song beckoning travelers to their fate. He shivered, not knowing if it was because of the mansion and what lay inside it, or the wind that was whipping through the dusty roads. Then again, it might be the enigmatic girl he stood next to with no real name, history, or loyalties. He decided to knock again.

A gentle padding on the floor behind the door signaled the owner’s approach and then the door opened unceremoniously. Kevlik.

Kevlik had always regarded the Major as a father figure. He was not tall and not handsome, nor particularly strong, but there was something about the way he stared right through your soul with his blue eyes and then made you laugh that made Kevlik love him. But this was business. Kevlik stiffened his spine and puffed out his chest. Major, I bring to your door an unclaimed dunpeal.

His bushy eyebrows went up. Really, well then, Kevlik, I suppose you’d like to bring her in to be evaluated. But I think it might prove worthwhile for the investigation if the subject had a face?

Ankh did not move into the hall although the Major had stepped aside to make room, nor had she removed the silk from her face. She simply peered inside.

Ankh, did you not hear the Major? Remove your scarf and enter for questioning. That is an order. He regretted it as soon as he said it.

Getting examined in this room at present is not possible without my coverings. My examination must be in a candlelit room with all the shades drawn completely shut.

Kevlik’s mouth hung agog. Just who in the hell do you think you are giving orders to the military of this town! I could just as easily have you beaten and killed at the mansion, you dirty ungrateful little bi—

But his words were cut off by a wave of the Major’s hand. As you request, madam. Kingson and Regi, come with me. He directed the two soldiers to close out all the moonlight and showed them where he kept his stash of emergency candles. Soon the room was a light glow, warmer and more comfortable than any interrogation room had any right to be, even if it was a man’s study. Kevlik had kept his arm on the strange girl the whole time, thinking she would run; but she just stood there, cold and impassive, waiting.

After about five minutes, Regi and Kingson flanked the door and ushered Ankh and Kevlik in. They guided Ankh to a small chair that did not appear to have ever been classified as comfortable. She sat on the very edge, her posture perfect, obviously undisturbed by the lack of comfort. But it wasn’t until the doors were closed, a pair of guards inside the room, another outside the door that she began to remove her mask. The sight beneath made Kevlik gasp.

Her face was perfectly white. It was the palest he had ever seen, as if the sun had never caressed her skin all the years she had lived. There were slight pink scars that dotted the exposed skin, like too many insect bites gone to scab. Her hair was a deep dark brown, almost black (which lay to waste Kevlik’s theory she was an albino), and lay down to her shoulders in a rudimentary self-cut way. Her lips were pale pink, large, and at the moment, tightly together. Her jaw line was tight and perfect. But her eyes were a real enigma. They were a color Kevlik had never seen before: something between amber and pink. They stared straight forward; they never shifted nor roved. She was a statue, like a goddess.

Are you well, Dunpeal? What shall I call you?

Bosch called me Ankh, for I was found with the symbol of longevity.

The Major processed this for a moment. He tented his fingers and put them under his slight mustache, against his thin lips. And you are here why?

This man brought me here.

The Major smiled while Kevlik sighed at the sheer simplicity of these answers. This could take all night long at this rate. Major, I found this woman walking in from the woods while I was at post and when I questioned her for her loyalties she refused to answer. So I asked her if she was a shepherdess and again she refused to answer. She… she mocked me too. It felt awkward for Kevlik to admit any of it, but the sooner he got out of here, he figured, the better. He focused to see if any of this meant anything to the Major, but he had still not moved, his fingers still tented and his eyes only on Ankh.

You are in this town, why?

I came here because it was the only place to start my search. He waited for her to continue, and finally after a stretch of silence, she did. Bosch’s last words to me were that I search for my lineage after he was gone. The next day, he disappeared. I came here.

The Major shook his graying head. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but a thief and smuggler named Bosch was captured by the guards of Kor a week ago. From what I was told, he had been missing for around fifteen years and wanted for countless acts of murder and thievery. But whatever drove him back from hiding, he was caught arrested and sentenced. I am sorry to tell you that your Bosch is dead.

She had might as well been made of granite. Kevlik had sunk into the chair that sat perpendicular to the two. He could clearly see both their faces although he much preferred to stare only at Ankh’s pale face. But he was shocked to find no sorrow or remorse for her companion. She sat as still as ever. He wanted to reach out and shake her, but he felt that too would have been fruitless.

He was actually no more relation to me than my guardian and protector. I respected and honored him in return for his constant tending. On our last visit to this town, he was recognized by an aged Lordly Knight and it was not long after that that he abandoned me.

The Major smiled. You do seem to be getting along all right on your own though.

He left me with provisions and instructions. That is all I needed. I shall find my family now, as he instructed.

"And where will you look? I do not know any