Into Darkness: Emergence Book 1

By T. K. Marchesi

Some would say that Andi was a thief and a con artist. Some who were a little more generous would say she was a spirited young storyteller who didn't possess a firm understanding of the law. Regardless of how they chose to see her, many expected that she would soon find herself in the terminal sort of trouble. However, nobody predicted Rhone.

When Andi stole from the cloaked stranger with the golden ring, she had no idea that she would be whisked away into a world she hadn't known existed. Now far from home and faced with prejudice, political intrigue, and family secrets, her very survival depends on her ability to adapt. As she learns how to exist in this new environment and how to trust those who call her a friend, she must answer one question: Is there anything worth more than survival?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887313016

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1: Plasiss di Sansair

Chapter 2: Voltarinus Arikin

Chapter 3: Or Rasti' Bretst

Chapter 4: Inett Drajekin

Chapter 5: Cressades Nerado Haret

Chapter 6: Trest Naesis

Chapter 7: Finett Treblar

Chapter 8: Negestriss Het Coverress

Chapter 9: Ad Prell Inett Ochii

Chapter 10: Renessed Sennett Zetst

Chapter 11: Or Krejek

Chapter 12: Neirmo Ousta

Chapter 13: Di Lyri Dregen

Chapter 14: Harrale Tor Negadess

Chapter 15: Brensonhague

Chapter 16: Mirathell Tor Praenci

Chapter 17: Tivinor Harrale

Chapter 18: Tolerk D'Tarion

Chapter 19: Jaen tas Ater Ciraco

Chapter 20: Kasta Desraed Pas

Chapter 21: Krieg Het Arin, Zeti Het Riiah

Chapter 22: Despatir Lauraldo

Epilogue

About the Author

cover.jpg

Into Darkness

Emergence Book 1

T. K. Marchesi

Copyright © 2023 T. K. Marchesi

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2023

ISBN 979-8-88731-300-9 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88982-759-7 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88731-301-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To those who have supported me in this and other ventures

To everyone out there with a storyteller's heart

Never give up on your dreams.

With sweat and courage, there is no limit on what you can achieve.

Chapter 1

Plasiss di Sansair

Games with a Stranger

It was almost sunset, and there was an hour before the gates would be closed for the night. The desert heat was starting to fade out, the breeze picking up and alleviating the stifling atmosphere in among the city's dusty streets and narrow alleyways. Flecks of sand on the air stung slightly as they whipped against exposed skin. The sky shone like firelight on gold, darkening to deep purples and blues on the far horizon. The day's last travelers would be stumbling through the gates about now. These travelers were usually pretty good marks for thieves, the majority of them being road-weary folks looking for a safe place to spend an evening and perhaps a little of their coin. The second group was a bit less innocent. These were the con artists and highway robbers who preyed on travelers, coming back in from their daily stomping grounds for the same reasons their prey did, the comforts of a safe bed and hot food within tall stone walls.

The normal rhythms of the night were starting up. Men returning home after a hard day's labor. Wives finishing preparations for evening meals. Children anxiously awaiting the first sight of their fathers on the sandy roads outside and scrambling over each other to get home before the light disappeared from the sky and their mothers came looking for them. Inns and taverns were beginning to overflow with light and noise. Music of every sort would soon be playing, drifting through the streets accompanied by voices and the smells of a hundred kitchens. Dogs were beginning to roam the streets in search of meals of their own, lean and half-wild creatures much like the people they lived alongside. As the last rim of the sun vanished behind the wall, deep shadows fell over the city, and Andi heard the echoing yowl of a desert cat, large felines with short, sand-colored fur, stumpy tails, and tall, tufted ears. The fierce, solitary creatures usually avoided the city, but during periods of drought, they were drawn in by droves. There had been dozens of them throughout the city for the last few months. Andi could hear their yowling screams from the loft she lived in most nights.

On this night, she was not back in the loft. She was waiting near the gates, looking for a potential mark. Most thieves love the hour before the closing of the gates because the pickings are good, but Andi wasn't one of them. She preferred wealthier targets. Poorer people tended to be honest folk who work twice as hard as they should and get paid half as much as they deserve. The rich, however, were lazy and self-centered people who never worked a day in their lives or else came by their riches in a less-than-honest way.

That might be a hypocritical statement coming from a thief and a liar, but she lived in a barn loft, she would argue with anybody who said so. She never pretended to be anything more than she was. She didn't put on a mask and parade around like she was better than all the smaller folks. She believed that the poor were the strength of a country, the backbone, the muscle. Yet those in the upper 5 percent or so who were born into money, or worse, stole it from those who couldn't afford it, looked down their noses at the poor, and sniffed at the dirty, callused hands of those who worked so that they could lie on a couch and get fat. Rich people were no better than thieves like Andi. She had no problem stealing from someone who had just stolen it from someone else.

Andi frowned irritably and shifted in her position in her alley, stone wall rasping against the bare skin of her arm. She watched a crew of muddy field-workers coming through the gate, carrying tools over their shoulders and laughing as they talked together. Before the crew could pass entirely through the gate, one of the soldiers guarding the way stepped out in front of them. The group came to an uncertain halt. Andi was too far away to hear what was said, but it was easy to read the rapidly escalating tension.

The soldier shoved the man he was arguing with in the chest contemptuously. A scrawny kid with a smear of something across his jaw moved forward as though intending to deck the soldier, but the man who had been pushed reached out a restraining hand. The soldier sneered at the whole lot of them for a moment more before stepping aside and allowing them to continue into the city. She recognized the soldier as he turned to watch the group pass. He was a dark-skinned young man who had been in the employ of a wealthy merchant's caravan passing through the area a year or so ago. He had remained in the city after the caravan experienced a rather severe and unexpected run of bad luck and found themselves in the unfortunate position of being unable to continue their journey due to sudden lack of funds. They had swiftly dissolved, each trying as best they could to recoup their losses.

Visiting rich people made the best targets. Andi liked stealing from them. When she had been younger, most of them had been rather unfriendly to a little urchin girl and would later realize their purses had been emptied along with those of their servants. Her ploys had grown in variety and sophistication since then. It was vastly entertaining. Lately, however, she hadn't been doing as well. The droughts in the area, in addition to new taxation laws, meant that this year's fairs had been canceled and trade routes had shifted. Most trade had been going through Illieth, a port city some eighty miles southwest of the Hedrin, the city where Andi lived. This meant that pickings had become increasingly skimpy of late. A few more months and the early winter storms would make sea trade all but impossible and would hopefully restore the flow of trade to the city, but until then, times would be hard, and she wouldn't be the only one scraping the bottom of her reserves.

That is what had led her to be at the gate at sunset, even though chances were slim that any appealing targets would be found. Andi was brooding on these bleak thoughts when a halfway decent-looking mark swaggered through the gates. He was so obviously a criminal she had to wonder why the guards let him in. When he walked past her alleyway, she heard a jingling in his left pocket, tinkling quietly every time his foot contacted the ground. It wasn't a money jingle, more like some other kind of metal. Her best guess was a thick necklace, or maybe a pocket watch. Either way, she perked up metaphorical ears, and hunting hunger began its slow burn in her blood. Andi put on her best glazed, absent expression, and stumbled out of the alley, giggling.

Exus—hic—me. She gasped as she collided with him and giggled some more. Her eyes moved slowly up the full, somewhat unimpressive length of his body before trying to focus on his face. Hello. I can't tell if you're handsome devil or an ugly one, not that it matters as long as you drink enough. Hic. What about you? You thirsty tonight? she asked, slurring her words a bit and lacing her fingers in his belt to pull him firmly against her.

His expression of contempt changed to one of pride and what he obviously thought was cleverness.

Parched. Care to join me? he asked cockily. She grinned back at him wickedly.

Sure thing, honey, long as you're buyin'. I've already—hic—had a few and done spent the money for my bed on the lot, to boot.

The drunken sway gave him an excuse to grab her. For the smallest of moments, the desire to smack him reared up inside her, but she swatted it down, and no hint of it ever showed on her face. Instead, she adopted a tipsy, sultry expression. His fingers closed over her upper arms, and he guided her through the lower city alleyways, weaving easily through the town. He walked like a rooster and grinned with one corner of his scruffy mouth. She chuckled silently to herself. He was going to have a wild night.

The tavern that the man led her to was so loud it could be heard two streets away. The light was as hard-looking as the faces inside. Everything was oily and rank-smelling, and the people all looked so much like criminals it made her check that her blades were still where they were supposed to be. She wore a large dirk in her boot and a smaller dagger on the back of her belt, hidden under the hem of her overshirt. Several drunken men climbed up on the tables and started to dance a jig. They soon fell off again. In a corner, two men began fighting, shouting, and beating on each other with fists and their mugs. Deftly, and before the rowdiness could spread, they were both knocked unconscious by a man with the tavern's crest badly stitched on his sleeve. The bruiser grabbed each of the others by the scruff of their necks and dragged them out the back door into the alley behind the building.

The arrogant man escorting Andi roughly pulled her to a table in a darker corner of the room. A scantily clad barmaid came over to the table, and he ordered her to fetch two bottles of rum. He said it so harshly it sent her scurrying to fetch the drinks. She returned a moment later and timidly placed the bottles and two glasses on the table. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor the whole time as she moved about the room, and Andi realized the girl, for girl she was, was at least four years younger than herself.

The rooster she was with leered disgustingly at the poor thing as she deposited the items on their table. Before she could get away, he slapped her rear and cackled. His laughter got louder when she let out a squeak of fear and turned first white then red. She left so fast she practically vanished. The man poured Andi a rather skimpy glass of the liquor then downed a great swig of the rum straight from the bottle. When he wasn't looking, she poured out portions of the drink on to the floor. The floor was already so dirty the alcohol was an improvement. When, after a few more deep drafts from the bottle, he turned to look at her lustily, she gazed back the same way and licked her lips. Before long, the first bottle had been drained, and the rooster began the second.

Andi didn't approve of drinking. It fuddled up one's senses and made a complicated, dangerous job even harder. Drinking makes you stupid, and only stupid people are willing to be more stupid. That, and people who drink smell bad. However, she'd had plenty of experience with people who did, and so had a pretty good idea how drunk people behave. She was probably laying it on a little thick, but the man she was conning was pretty thick himself and didn't catch on.

As it turned out, the man was also very fond of hard liquor. He'd gotten through enough rum to put a rhinoceros under the table when he motioned for her to come sit next to him. She complied, stumbling once when her foot snagged on air and let out a yelp of surprise as he grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap. His mouth pressed against her neck, and he sucked hard on it. She moaned quietly in false pleasure. His technique was rough and ill-mannered, but passable, as his type went. After a moment of this, she turned to face him, straddling his lap and encouraged him to greater lengths. Men at other tables jeered and cackled. One even cheered them on. His mouth tasted like rum and something else that was equally unpleasant, but a good con is corrected down to the details, so she behaved like any jacked-up doxy would.

After he got good and excited, which took a subjective eternity, the two of them slipped out of the tavern through the back. They stepped over the men from earlier, still out cold, and he pulled her close to him again. He thought he was going to get lucky. One of them was. Out in the alley, it wasn't hard to smash a liquor bottle on the back of his skull.

He was still bleeding pretty good when Andi left him. From his pockets, she got seven silvers and one of the finest things she had even stolen, a gold bracelet with little emeralds formed into curling vines with flowers blooming along its length. It was beautiful and would fetch an even prettier price when the caravans again began coming to Hedrin.

She tucked the bracelet and coins into a hidden leather pouch on the inside of her leg beneath her skirt and was heading back to her loft when she turned on to a shadowed, nearly deserted street and spotted someone coming up the way toward her. They were wearing a dark cloak with the hood pulled up over their head so that no part of them was visible, a very odd sight indeed now that the light had fully vanished from the sky. The opportunity was too good to miss, and the unusual figure had roused her curiosity. She skulked back into a patch of deeper shadows and watched as the figure approached. From the outline of the cloak, she could see that the stranger was wiry and lean, tall even for a man, which she thought he was for that reason. His walk, however, confused the issue. His stride was light and graceful, like a dancing girl's.

Interest and excitement made her breath begin to quicken. Acting on impulse, she stole out of the alley behind him and shadowed the figure to an inn on the opposite side of town from the one she had just vacated. This one was a lot less crowded and boisterous and had the quiet air of a tea house in that everyone spoke quietly and gentle music played in the background. The place was dimly lit by lamps placed along the walls, casting a warm, dancing glow through the room.

The cloaked figure walked up to a black-haired man with a short, somewhat scraggly beard behind the bar. A smile lit the innkeeper's face, and he leaned on the counter to speak to the stranger, gesturing around him with a hand. After a few seconds, some money changed hands, and the cloaked figure took a room key that the innkeeper proffered to him. When he took the key, Andi's eyes were caught by a flash of gold on the man's hand.

The ring was large and appeared to be made of solid gold. Something within her dropped into a predatory crouch, so familiar after long years of habit she scarcely noticed the shift, and the game had begun. Andi watched as the hooded man walked to a dark corner of the room and seated himself at a table. A few minutes later, a serving girl brought him a drink. Minutes passed, the man unaware that he was being stalked. He did nothing interesting, just drank and surveyed the room. His back was to her, but she felt sure that he would soon catch her watching him. She made another internal shift, taking a half breath, just as one might do when shooting a bow. When it was complete, she strode confidently up to his table and slid into the seat across from him.

Andi made a bit of a show of making herself comfortable, making it very clear she intended to stay for a while. She glanced at the cloaked man, trying to see his face but was unable to make out much. There was a lamp blazing away directly behind his head, casting his face into deep shadow, allowing only the vague impression of a face to be visible. Try as she might, she couldn't get her eyes to adjust well enough to make out more than that.

That caused a little flicker of uncertainty in a deep, hidden part of herself. The choice might have been a coincidence, but something told her it wasn't. She got another look at the ring on his hand as well. It appeared to be a seal of some kind, though it looked very old and did not resemble any of the seals in this part of the world. Rather than the standard shield design, it was a stylized animal head of a sort she had never seen. The creature had a large mass of hair that went all the way around its heavy head and fanned out into the shape of a sun.

The ring was also solid gold, just as she had suspected. Her well-trained eye also noted the purity of the metal and the fine craftsmanship, not exactly a practical choice as the purity of the gold made it soft and easily dented and scratched. It was therefore a choice that only a very rich man would make. This particular ring showed years' worth of use marring its beautiful surface.

I suppose you want me to buy you a drink, he said matter-of-factly, interrupting her evaluation. His voice was of average depth and was a bit husky. He had a slight accent that Andi couldn't place, and there was a tiny hint of amusement in his tone.

She raised an eyebrow at him. Most usually do, she said, leaving her tone as blank as possible. Vaguely friendly, but otherwise unreadable. His mind would fill in the missing inflection to suit his worldview. It was the safest approach until she got a read on him.

He cocked his head slightly to one side. Well, I've always been one for tradition, he said in an inscrutable voice. It was irritating. He could have meant any number of things by that statement, yet he said it without any hint of inflection. He made a fairly discrete hand motion, and a minute later, a serving girl came by. He gestured toward Andi, who gave him a small smile, then looked up at the girl.

I'll take the same as him, she said, and the girl went to collect the drink. The man's silence seemed to imply a raised eyebrow, and Andi decided to oblige him. I've found that a person's choice of drink tells me a lot about them, she explained, retaining the neutral tone and expression.

His mouth twitched up a little at the corners. Such as? He rubbed a knuckle at the spot between his nose and upper lip.

She gave him a sly smile. Whether they're worth my time, she told him cryptically.

She could only see a small part of his face yet got the impression of an appraising look. He didn't speak again for several minutes. The girl brought another mug and filled both of them from a ceramic flagon. Andi raised her mug to him and took a sip. The taste was not what she was expecting. There was not a trace of bitter alcohol to it. Instead, the drink was mild and vaguely sweet. She looked at him from across the rim of the mug and saw his mouth twitch up again from within the shadows.

What's the verdict? he asked. He sounded a little curious and a little amused.

She couldn't tell how genuine the emotions were and felt another flicker of frustration but also felt herself coming more awake. The game was becoming more interesting.

You have my interest. We'll see what happens, she told him. She looked at the mug again, swirling its contents slowly before taking another pull. I've never had this before. What is it?

Its taste reminded her of a tea with hints of orange and vanilla, served with a bit of cream, but this comparison was not exactly right. It was sweeter and not warmed, but it was not a juice either. There was also an entirely unfamiliar note that she had no name for.

The hooded man laughed quietly, a warm sound. You wouldn't have. Cyrus, the innkeeper, doesn't make it often. It's a recipe he won from a traveler a while back, and the key ingredient comes from another country, so he can't serve it often. He reserves it for guests who know to ask and those he wishes to impress.

She raised an eyebrow. And which are you? She tried to see through to his face, but the lamp continued to defeat her. It gave her a clue as to the kind of man she was dealing with.

Both. And neither, he said cryptically, and she was absolutely sure he was enjoying himself.

She gave him a mildly disappointed look. So are you traveling on business? she asked him.

He paused for a moment, clearly deciding the best way to answer.

Yes, he said at last. His answer was terribly helpful.

She arched an eyebrow, frowning slightly.

What kind? she asked casually, taking another sip of the strange drink.

His lip twitched in amusement.

Negotiations, he remarked, sounding almost as though he had made an enormously funny joke. She tilted her head toward him, smiling.

What kind of negotiations? she asked in a low, conspiratorial voice.

You have a lot of questions, he remarked.

She was getting too nosey. However, this man was an enigma. He had an exotic air, though she couldn't figure out where it came from. There was just something different about him. She knew he was dangerous, but that didn't impress her anymore. She'd known many dangerous men.

What can I say? She spread her hands. My curiosity sometimes gets the better of me. Particularly when someone is intentionally evasive.

It could be a dangerous habit. Not everyone is as nice as I am. You might learn something you wish hadn't. Said in another tone, that would have been a threat. From him, it was just a word of caution.

She laughed a little in genuine amusement. Not at this rate. It's been a long time since I learned anything interesting. But it's sweet of you to be concerned, she said with a bright smile. As she spoke, she reached out and put her hand over his where it lay on the table. He left it there for a moment then pulled his hand back, moving it into his lap.

What do you consider interesting? he asked.

Andi gave him an apologetic look and took her hand back.

Oh, a great many things. There is a great deal to know, and you don't know what you don't know until you know it, she said seriously.

After a moment he smiled, a genuine, toothy smile. She could see the glimmer of white teeth even in the shadows of the cloak. She grinned back, and hers was genuine too, as under the table, a small piece of gold disappeared into her keeping.

After leaving the inn, she wound her way through quiet streets toward the edge of town. The buildings were all crammed together in the southernmost section of the city. The section was the poorest, most squalid part. As a visitor worked their way north, the ramshackle lean-tos vanished, buildings became larger and more spread out, and the surrounding became increasingly beautiful.

Andi was headed for the very northernmost part. Even though she knew better, she brought out the ring and spun it between her fingers as she walked. When she went past lanterns that had been left burning, the small flames reflected off the gold in a way that fascinated the eyes. Where had this little ring come from? What secrets had it heard? What house was represented by its seal? Strange, how this little piece of metal and the mysteries that surrounded it captured and held hostage her mind. There seemed to be a kind of magic worked into the very metal it was forged from. Who was the man under the hood?

Andi turned these thoughts over and over again in her mind as she made her way to the manor house. Eventually the large, beautifully ornate building emerged from the darkness. She didn't enter the grand house, however. She slipped around behind it and walked across the grounds to a large, decrepit-seeming old stable. The wood it was built from looked as though a strong wind would reduce it to a pile of splinters. Then again, looks could be deceiving. She herself was living proof.

The small side door swung open without a sound when she gave it a push despite the fact that the hinges appeared to be encased in a thick layer of rust. A rickety old ladder held together with knots of stained rope led up to a loft above the stables that had previously served as a servant's quarters long ago, likely for a stable boy. Now it was Andi's home. This room was the only part of the whole manor that bore no sign of age.

This was largely due to the fact that everything in it was new. She had spent a small, possibly stolen, fortune and several months repairing and refurnishing the place. The room did not have much furniture, as she had needed to build most of that herself. There was a mattress in one corner that had been made from the one that had already been here. It was little more than a cloth bag, stuffed with unbrushed wool. The fabric of the old one had all but disintegrated, so she had been forced to make an entirely new cover.

She had also ended up replacing most of the floorboards and wall panels as they had moldered and rotted away to the point of being dangerous. A short desk and a small, rather wobbly table lined two of the walls, leaving the center of the small room completely clear. The table had one leg that was shorter than the other three, it's having been snapped off on Andi's first attempt to haul it up the ladder before she realized trying to carry it up over her shoulder was a bad idea. She still had the scar on her arm where the splintered end of the leg had gotten her.

After she'd gotten it up there using rope and a makeshift pulley and reattached the leg, she'd placed four gold marks (each worth twice a soldier's daily wage) under the leg so the table would balance again. It now held a selection of small trinkets. Most of them were souvenirs of her thieving escapades, particularly pretty or memorable items she hadn't needed to sell. The only ones displayed were the less valuable ones. The ones of greater value or significance were stashed in a hidden compartment in the wall.

The desk bore an old lantern, parchment, pens, and ink. The window was covered with heavy fabric curtains so that when she lit the lantern late at night, no light could escape. On the desk were financial reports not just of Hedrin but many surrounding cities and lords, including the current going rate of many items. There were other papers in the stacks that contained profiles on important people, most significantly information on weaknesses in character that would allow them to be easily conned or blackmailed. Most of those profiles had been compiled by Andi herself, though a few had been bribed or purchased off servants or guards working for the individuals in question.

Andi didn't even glance at either desk. Instead, she went over to the wall compartment and carefully opened it, slipping a knife into the crack in the wood to press down the latch and release the panel. She deposited the money and the bracelet among the other items, but retained the ring, turning it over and over in her fingers. She stretched out her hand to place it in the compartment but changed her mind.

Instead, she pulled an ornate pearl necklace from the pile inside and stripped it of pearls and medallion with a careless flick of the hand. She strung the gold ring on the thin strip of leather and hung it around her own neck, ensuring that the knot was tight before dropping the ring out of sight down the front of her tunic. Finally, gratefully, she collapsed onto her familiarly lumpy bed and curled up into a ball in its center, asleep almost before she hit the blankets.

She didn't know how long she slept, only that it wasn't nearly long enough. As her mind returned to the realms of the living, she had to search back in her memory, looking for what had awakened her. Then the sound came again. The creak of loose wood floors below. She waited for several long moments, listening intently. There was another quieter creak. Whoever was downstairs would be making great efforts to be silent after the first two. She got quietly to her feet and prowled over to the opening in the floor to peer down. There was a hooded figure, ghosting over to the ladder below. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she backed away from the opening on silent, bare feet. Quickly Andi slid her feet into her boots and grabbed her two daggers from where they lay on the mattress. She slipped the larger into place in her left boot, the other disappearing into the sheath at the small of her back.

With catlike care, she moved to the window and pulled aside the curtains, throwing one leg over the edge of the windowsill, and turned to glance back at the room, making certain she had not left anything valuable in the open. She was suddenly eye to shadowed eye with the cloaked man. Her heart stopped cold in her chest, freezing like a rabbit unexpectedly facing the light of a torch. He had moved into the room as silently as the shadow he resembled.

The ring, he said, holding out his hand and confirming her suspicions about his identity.

Rather than answer, she dropped from the window.

In her alarm, she had forgotten one very important thing. While this window was a good twenty feet off the ground, she could ordinarily have made the drop safely, first hanging by her fingertips to take six feet or so off the drop then rolling when she hit the bottom to absorb the force of the fall. However, she had utterly failed to remember the half buried, rusty, old pig trough that was directly below this window. A sharp piece of thin metal ripped through the boot, skin, and muscle of her left calf. She only partially managed to suppress her cry of agony, turning it from an earsplitting howl to a moaning whimper.

Looking up, she saw a hooded head disappear back through the window to be replaced by a pair of booted feet. There was a sharp silvery tingle as the blood-song of fear and battle began to sing along her limbs. It dulled the pain enough for her to wrench herself to her feet and begin to run.

She dashed off through the long grass in the direction of the wall. The property the manor was built on was large, particularly considering it was within the city wall, but it was only about a quarter mile to the enormous wall that ringed the city, and there were no other buildings between her and escape. She limped and every other step burned like white hot fire, but the fear of her pursuer spurred her on. When she reached the wall, she didn't pause or even look back but launched herself up, jumping almost exclusively off her uninjured leg. It wasn't anything to write home about, but it carried her high enough to get her fingertips up over a narrow stone ledge, and she strained to lift herself up on it.

It was slow going, taking her nearly an entire minute to climb the thirty feet to the walls top. She paused just below the crenulations along the top of the wall, listening to ensure that no patrolman was waiting on the other side. Pain was making her vision waver, and blood was running down over the leather of her boot. Smears of it had been left over the stone of the wall below, and she took the opportunity to breathe. She leaned her head against the stone, still listening, and concluded after another minute or two that the patrol of the wall wasn't nearby. Rather than climb fully over the wall and risk being sighted by anyone with a line of sight to her, she slipped through the crenelle between two of the tall stone merlins and crawled, belly to the stone, across the top of the wall, pouring herself over the other side and dangling by her fingertips as she righted herself to climb down.

There was no cry of alarm, and Andi let out a breath of relief, hastily scrambling down the other side and making for a copse of scrubby trees not far from the walls. The trees grew up along the river that provided life for all the cities and towns in this part of the country and was the only decent cover she was likely to find quickly. It took nearly twenty minutes for her to make it to the first of the trees, and she was beginning to stagger on unsteady legs, gasping with pain more than exertion. She limped on for a few more minutes, until she was suddenly hurled to the ground as her foot caught on a low branch or root. The pain in her leg exploded as she hit the ground, and all was darkness.

*****

When Andi next opened her eyes, the light and temperature indicated it was midmorning. She took a deep breath, enjoying the crispness of the air. The memory of the night before reemerged at the same time as the sudden, blinding agony from her left leg. She cried out and whipped around, instantly regretting the movement as the fire intensified, her hand going for the dagger at the small of her back. The sheath was empty. Her boots were also gone. What held her attention though was the cloaked man kneeling over her, holding a jagged chunk of metal in his hand. He had apparently just pulled it from the bloody gash in her leg.

Rather illogically, the first words out of her mouth were, Where are my knives?

He turned to face her, and she could see him smile cheerfully in the shadows of his hood.

In safekeeping for the moment.

She was instantly irritated. Give them back.

Not until I'm sure they won't end up in my back. I don't fancy bleeding today.

As that was precisely what she wanted them for, she decided he wasn't likely to cooperate anytime soon. She started looking around for them and was rather suddenly distracted as a cold, wet cloth was pressed to the injury. It began to sting, and she tried to jerk away from the contact, but his hand held it firmly in place.

Ouch! That hurts! Andi snapped at him.

He grinned again, and that only added to her irritation. It's going to hurt, sweetheart. You gave yourself a rather deep cut here on this leg. We have to get the dirt out, or it's liable to go septic.

He continued to sponge at the injury for a long time, and she reluctantly allowed him to do so. She didn't want to look at it, knowing full well it would turn her stomach. She turned her attention to their surroundings. They were sitting in a section of the scrub near the river, and perhaps fifteen feet to their right, the ground suddenly dropped away in a sharp decline down to the river. A tree had toppled down the slope as the water eroded the dirt around its root system, leaving only a few large roots attached to the bank and keeping it from sliding down into the water. A dozen smaller roots stuck up over the edge of the drop off like desperately grasping fingers.

Tied to one of these roots was a smallish, dun-colored horse with a black mane braided with silver beads. A saddle was draped over another large root, and large saddlebags rested against it. A little cook fire was going, a camp pan sitting beside it, waiting for the coals to be ready. Strips of fabric were draped over the edge of a little bucket, steam still curling off them. Bandaging, she realized.

She spotted the piece of metal the man had extracted from her muscle and studied it more closely. It was jagged and about the length and width of her thumb. She cringed to think what damage it must have been doing inside her body while she ran. She was, however, relieved to see there appeared to be no rust on it. Rust poisoning was all too common and was a truly terrible way to die.

With that reassurance in place and still needing to distract herself from the burning sensation, she tried to make out the man's face under the hood, easier now in the morning light. He was clean shaven, with an angular jaw and a straight nose. Dark eyes shone above high cheekbones, though the shadows made it hard to see them clearly.

So why did you come to my house in the middle of the night and chase me into the forest? she asked, trying to sound both innocent and peeved at the same time. It was not an easy task.

He didn't look at Andi, still intent on his task, but she could feel him smiling.

You know very well why I came to your house last night, so let's skip that foolishness. As for why I followed you into the woods, I almost didn't, but I knew you had been hurt, and it was the only decent thing to do. That, and I didn't find what I was looking for, he said with a shrug. Now it's my turn to ask the questions. He looked at her for consent, and she nodded for him to continue.

Are you going to have more questions?

She was surprised. She had expected him to demand to know where the ring was and was startled enough by this unexpected topic he had to ask her twice.

Yes, I have more questions, she told him in a bemused tone.

Will you answer any question I ask you in exchange for your own answers?

That explained it. He was invoking the local custom used for the trading of information. Given the general dishonesty practiced and expected by the people of the region, it soon became apparent the in order for any sort of business to be conducted, there had to be a system put in place to allow some sort of trust in dealing. Thus had been born the custom of exchanging truths of equal risk or worth. To lie during such a ritual could be worth as much as life and livelihood if you were caught. In this part of the world, the custom was held more sacred than any actual religious belief. If he enacted the ritual, she would not dare to lie to him as long as it was in play. However, she certainly would not be telling him the truth. There was a difference.

I won't lie to you about any of your questions.

That's good to hear, but I'm afraid that was not an answer to the question I asked. Will you answer me? Completely? No more wriggling to escape the question?

Andi grimaced. He was smart. That would make the game she was playing harder.

Fine. You win that one. She finally agreed, her grudging tone pulling quiet laughter from him, but she already had a plan to steal part of his victory. Under one condition. You will not ask me the exact location of the ring.

Drajek Arin. You enjoy being difficult, don't you? All right. I won't ask. Your turn.

The first words were in a language she didn't recognize, and his accent became far more pronounced for a moment before fading away again. She quirked a brow at him.

You've gone to an awful lot of trouble to recover this ring of yours. Why? You could have just gone home and had another forged. What's so significant about this ring? The question lacked delicacy and the normal polite circumlocution, but she had a feeling that this man would appreciate directness. A twitch of his lip told her that her guess had been correct.

That particular ring was made for me the day I was born. To go home without it would shame me deeply.

She nodded slowly. Fair enough. Your turn.

Why did you steal it?

She debated answering that one, considering protesting innocence. She discarded the idea. Not only was he bargaining in good faith but lying at this stage wouldn't do her any good anyway. He already knew the truth.

There are a couple of reasons, I guess, she admitted with a sigh. First was habit. You happened along after a run of bad luck, professionally speaking, and you fit my normal target profile.

What do you mean? What's your normal victim like? he asked curiously. He was still cleaning out her leg, applying some sort of strong-smelling salve to it.

Target, she corrected him primly, trying not to wince as it stung and burned. The gold is very pure, so you must be fairly wealthy. That's my usual sort. Though, honestly, you don't behave like a rich man.

How so?

You were kind, for starters. And not in the normal way either.

Normal way? he asked, pausing and looking up from his work for a moment.

Her gaze went flinty as she met his eyes. A rich man is only kind when he wants something. A crude gesture made her meaning abundantly clear. He looked both sick and irritated. She didn't know what to make of that.

I see was all he said. You said there was another reason?

You and your ring present quite the mystery. You have an accent I can't place. You neatly avoid sharing your name or letting anyone see much of your face. Your ring bears a seal I've never seen before, and I know every single one in the country and many others beside. In any case, the style of the crest and the make of the ring are strange to me as well. All of that snared my interest. She shrugged as if to say, So this is all your own fault in the long run.

All right. I guess I can understand that. It's your turn to ask, he said, snaring the fabric out of the bucket and wringing it out before wrapping it around her calf.

What family does that seal belong to? she asked, fishing for his family name and rank.

Mine, he said shortly, tugging at the strips of bandage and tying them off securely.

Andi frowned at him. He ignored the look and stood, walking around the fire. He moved the pan onto the embers and rummaged through a few bags, bringing out a collection of food items.

So you are a nobleman then? she asked, letting her irritation show just a little.

You could say that.

This vagueness had been intentionally designed to aggravate her, she decided. He was enjoying himself. She glared at his back in stony silence until he at last relented.

All right. At home, my family is considered somewhat important, but my name and rank don't mean anything here, so why bother with it?

I just want to understand, that's all. Why do you wear that cloak all the time?

What happened to my question? he asked indignantly. She smirked at him in petty satisfaction.

You asked it, remember? You wanted to know why I was bothering about your rank. I answered you. Now it's my turn.

He looked disbelieving. Then a reluctant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. You play dirty. I wear the cloak to avoid drawing attention to myself.

I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your plan isn't working. That habit actually draws attention.

Not as much as I'd get without it.

Oh, are you that handsome then? She could tell from his body language that he was grinning, even though he was facing away from her.

Perhaps I am. I'd never thought about that before. In actuality, it is that for some reason, your people find my appearance alarming.

He left it hanging there, and no amount of prodding or prompting would get him to elaborate. She was burning with curiosity but had no idea how to get a look at him without his realizing.

My turn to ask one, he said in a voice that dared her to cheat him out of it again. Have I satisfied your interest in the ring?

About the ring, yes, she grumbled. He nodded. The meal he was preparing was nearly finished and smelled delightful. What happens to me when…if I give it back? she asked.

He didn't let her see his smirk this time. "When I get it back, I'll escort you home and then be one my way."

It was her turn to be indignant. Escort me home? she cried. I am perfectly capable of getting myself home, thank you very much, so I won't be accepting your noble offer.

You're forgetting your leg, sweetheart. What kind of man would I be if I didn't ensure you made it home after so grievous an injury? he said patronizingly.

She wanted to hit him. She settled for glaring intensely at him for his comment. Before she could argue with him, he handed her a plate of the most wonderful-smelling food in the world. Hesitating for only a moment, she gave him a look that plainly told him they would finish this argument later then turned her attention to the fried eggs, mushrooms, and sausages. It was so good she completely forgot to be difficult.

I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves. My name is Andi. What's yours? she asked when she slowed down to savor the last few bites.

Your name is Andy? he asked, looking somewhat confused. Isn't that a… That's an unusual name, he said, finally remembering his manners.

She frowned at him. Technically, it's Andrea. She made her tone dangerous on purpose.

After a properly wary beat, he nodded.

Oh, I see. My name is Rhone.

"And you thought my name was strange. Do you have a last name, Mr. Rhone?

Do you?

Not anymore.

What was it?

Why do you want to know? she asked in frustration.

You present something of a mystery, he parroted.

Get used to disappointment, she said in a tone that made it clear she was done discussing it.

He decided not to push the issue further. He also conveniently didn't bring up the fact that he hadn't told her his own yet. She didn't notice. She had become very intent on the last bite of her breakfast. The story behind her comments was not a happy one. She did her best not to think about it very often.

When it was scrapped clean, she handed her plate back to Rhone and felt the ring move inside her tunic. The mystery of the ring had been solved, even if it had brought with it more intriguing ones. He really didn't fit the profile she used to justify her actions, even if he was a nobleman. Would a break from tradition really hurt anything? After all, his honor seemed to be at stake. If she gave it back, he might leave without answering any more questions, which would be irritating. However, if she gave it back, they'd be even. He had fed her breakfast after all, and a pretty fantastic breakfast at that.

This is a bad idea, she said, even as she pulled the leather cord from around her neck.

She couldn't see them, but she sensed his eyes brighten as he leaned forward to take the small piece of metal she held out to him. Even as it left her hand, she had an idea. Andi acted before it had even finished forming, never pausing to think about the consequences. Her hand flicked up, his hood fell back, and she saw his face for the first time.

Chapter 2

Voltarinus Arikin

Voluntary Kidnap

As the light illuminated him, Andi felt her heart stop again, just as it had done at the window last night. A wave of cold ran down her spine, raising goose bumps on every inch of her skin. It was a moment before she figured out why. As she did, the blood drained from her face. Her eyes were fixed on his ears. His pointed ears. She shoved herself backward through the dirt with her good leg and hands. He wasn't human.

Demon, she hissed under her breath, eyes wide.

She couldn't stop herself from gaping at him, fear plain on her face. He wasn't looking, however. He had frozen, still as a statue when she had removed his hood. She wasn't sure he even breathed. At her words, he closed his eyes and sank slowly back, an almost pained look on his face. After a long moment, he spoke.

No. An elf. Demons are an entirely different thing.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest. She was in mortal danger. Elves would kill a human just for the entertainment value. Granted, five minutes ago, she would have told anyone who asked that they didn't exist, that they were a myth made up to scare children. Now there was one sitting in front of her, not meeting her eyes, so what was she supposed to think?

Let's get this over with, the elf said in a resigned, tired voice.

What? she asked with a squeak of fright. Then she realized how pathetically weak that sounded. She sat up straighter and tried to wipe the panic from her face and voice. It was probably a poor attempt but was the best she could manage. Get what over with?

You're going to accuse me of being a murder and heaven only knows what other horrors. Then you will insist I'm not real, which I really feel like I would already know if it was the case, by the way. Then you will beg and plead for me to go away and leave you alone.

I will not beg, she declared with as much indignant pride as she possessed, which was considerable.

That's good to hear. I hate begging. It's hard to watch.

She didn't know how to respond to that.

Let me ask you something, he said in a very reasonable tone of voice. If I was going to get off on torturing you to death, why would I have followed you out here, cleaned up your leg, and then made you breakfast? Have I done anything to make you believe I would want to kill you? Would I have stopped to have this most enjoyable conversation? It becomes much more difficult to kill a person after you get to know them, and it's an abhorrent idea to begin with.

Andi was totally perplexed by this point. This entire situation was completely impossible. Elves did not exist. She could not be talking to one. If they did exist, they would not bother to talk to her. They would not be so polite, so reasonable. There must be rust in her blood after all, and she was clearly dying. Soon this insane, absurd hallucination would be over, and she could be on her way to hell. To confirm her suspicions of insanity, this idea was quite comforting.

I'm losing my mind, she said, almost cheerfully. He looked at her in confusion, and she felt the need to explain, to be polite. This situation is impossible, so I must be either dreaming or hallucinating. Hallucination seems like the more likely explanation, to my way of thinking, because people almost never realize that anything is amiss when they are dreaming. I have therefore decided that the rust poisoning has resulted in temporary insanity. Strange, but I've never heard that included in the symptoms lists. Perhaps no one ever noticed. In any case, all of this means that you can't possibly be an elf, that none of today has been real, I don't think so anyway, and that I will soon be dying, at which point, everything shall return to the reality I'm prepared to deal with. So everything is all right after all.

He was looking at her as though she really was insane. She was grateful that he agreed with her. Since she now believed she understood the situation, she felt completely relaxed and sat back to analyze the rather remarkable images that her subconscious had created. It really was rather pleasant. The scrubby trees were beautiful. The air smelled clean and earthy. The sun was warm without being hot or cruel. She was most interested in the elf her mind had made. She would have thought she'd make him ugly and unpleasant. Not so, it would seem.

Looking closer, she realized he was actually rather handsome, if a little strange-looking. The pointed ears were not too terribly different from her own. The points made them only very slightly longer, and they were far more graceful than the legends made them sound. In fact, she thought they might be an improvement. A more elegant and attractive alteration on her more common human ears. His skin was very fair. Even if he didn't need to conceal his differences from prying eyes, he would need the hood to protect his skin from the harsh sun in these southern lands. He had strong, angular features. You could tell he came from a noble family just by studying his face. He looked like one of the young kings portrayed in the statues of talented artisans.

His dark, chocolate-brown hair was about as long as her little finger in most places and was sticking up oddly after spending so much time under the hood. It almost made her smile; so great was the contrast between his face and his hair. Then she noticed something rather strange. He had two long, thin braids at his temples, pulled back and hooked together at the base of his neck. At her curious look, he reached back and pulled the string that tied them together. They swung forward, settling into what was obviously their natural place on either side of his face, and fell past his collarbone, tied off in wire made of real silver.

Is that the fashion among the elvish men? she asked before remembering that elves didn't exist.

He answered her anyway, smiling a little. Not quite. It's a status symbol. I will explain the intricacies of it to you sometime, he said.

She nodded and continued her inspection of the cross-legged man sitting before her. It was then that she noticed his eyes. They were a rich brown, very dark, just like hers. Unlike hers, however, they were not homely. They were beautiful. Instead of detracting from his overall appeal, they greatly increased it. As his head shifted positions slightly, things seemed to move in their warm depths. Mysterious golden things. Those eyes were more alive than any others had ever been. She could not pull her gaze away from them, and she didn't really want to anyway. At that moment, she realized that this was not a creation of her own mind. However, that realization no longer scared her. She had a sense, one that she was never able to explain in the years that followed, that she was safe and that all was well.

She really should have known better. Before nightfall, Andi discovered the awful truth. He was kidnapping her.

What happened to escorting me home? she demanded with a false show of distress. She wasn't truly concerned. Surprised, maybe, but not overly worried. He couldn't keep her there if she wasn't of a mind to stay. However, there might still be an opportunity for a profit in the situation, so she decided to play along for the moment.

That was the plan before you pulled that little stunt with the hood. Surely you can understand why I can't let you go back and tell everyone what you saw?

She shook her head vigorously, jaw set in defiance.

You know very well I wouldn't say a word. They'd think I was insane. Hell, I agree with them.

His eyes hardened, and he turned his back on her with a sense of finality, throwing the saddle over his horse's back.

"Now, look. I'm not going to listen to any more arguments. You are going to come with me back to my homeland where you will be taken off my hands, and the…someone else can decide what is to be done with you, as is only proper."

She wondered over the slight hesitation, but now wasn't the time for such things; time for that later. She folded her arms over her chest and sat down in the dirt,