New worlds are always dangerous. Whether those worlds are the lands outside the lush garden bowl of Shelzar, or the hidden depths of our own minds; a new world is threatening. It is not just our perceptive fears which make this so; new worlds are really out to kill us. It is the way of nature; nature is viscous and wants you dead.
The lessons of the Wizard Penbrook droned on in Elaine's mind as she sits on the steps above Naill watching Mac Anu and the beggar messenger continue to argue things out with their hands. Moments ago they believed that who ever was after her had arrived, but now, again, they are stagnate. Stuck. Trapped.
Penbrook would drone on for hours saying these lessons and others like them. She believed then that he was old and saw the world as many old people see the world. As a cold and dark place, full of fears and evils. She listened, but didn't want to see the world that way. Yet here she is, in a new world, full of fear and her own nature wants her dead.
She would sit in the hard wooden chairs, watching Penbrook draw on a large square piece of black slate, runes and phrases, telling her about the true nature of the elves. It wasn't a pretty picture. She petted Herbert, his white rabbit while it slept in her lap, and listened to Penbrook describe a people she found wondrous and beautiful as vicious, vengeful, cruel and at the core of their being, deceitful. That this nature ran through everything they did, created, sang or spoke.
"You jump to judgment too quickly dear." Penbrook said suddenly, his voice sharp, no longer droning. "You let the world lull you, and fear guide you. You will not survive long that way."
"But you just said that everything they say, all of their poems, songs, and even the letters of their language have double meanings, that only they understand fully. That they can say one thing to you, while saying something completely different to their own kind. What do you call that?"
"I call it the language of the elves." Penbrook answered, "But you seem to believe that this is deceit."
"Saying one thing to one person while giving hidden messages to others is deceit."
"I never said hidden." Penbrook said, lifting and eyebrow, "I said, not understood by others. There is a world of difference there."
"Deceit is deceit." Elaine quipped, in a tone that reminded her of her mother suddenly.
"That's true," Penbrook admitted turning back to the black slate, "and ignorance is ignorance, and you have a bad case of it my dear. In fact you have the worse kind; good ol' country ignorance. Knowledge and quips passed down through the ages from mother to daughter and father to son. Knowledge based on fear, prejudice and the ignorant observation of a surface world."
He suddenly turned on her, "Are you evil Elaine?" His eyes were no longer those of a kind man, but a man of terrible power. A man who could summon a maelstrom, and shatter a void. "You have the magic in you. You are part elf. You happily live with a man of the dark arts, alone and unmarried to him. What does your country knowledge say about any one of these things?"
He terrified her, but what terrified her more were the faces of the people in her village flashing into her mind. The people who said they loved her all of her life. Even the faces of the men at the tavern. These faces were no longer happy to see her. Twisted expressions of disgust, a repulsion. For any one of the things Penbrook had said, they held distain, and three of them were stoning offenses.
"Yes, there it is." Penbrook suddenly said, and became the kind old man she had known the last few weeks.
"There what is?" she whispered, holding back tears. 
"The guiding light of your life. Fear." Turning back to the black slate he drew a rune. "You didn't process what I said, you feared it. You didn't listen, or think, or delve down under the meaning or purpose. You cast aside everything you thought about me, yourself, and wrapped around you a cloak of fear and ignorance." He finished drawing the rune, and pointed at it, "Do you know what this one is?"
She looked at the twisted elf rune on the board, and shook her head, still holding back her tears.
"What does it make you feel?"
She looked at it again. Herbert sat up, looking at the rune on the board as well, and then up to her. "Confusion." she said. "Lost." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked at it again. "It looks like something is missing. Like it isn't complete."
Penbrook smiled. "You have a gift in language Elaine. In another time, in another village you might have been brought up with reverence and sought after by those much older than you are for advice and council. This may still be so. Yes, I see that in your near future."
"It is the rune for fear, and your assessment is very astute. If we take this part away, it is the rune for confusion. If we move this part down to here, it is the rune for great loss and heart ache. And if we add this rune to it..." He drew a very simple V down through the rune, and the affect was amazing. What was confusion, terror, and terrible loss, was suddenly calm and beautiful. "We have the rune for the 'door of heaven'.
She picked up Herbert, set him gently on the table beside her, and stood up, drawn in by the beauty of the transformed rune. Amazed that such a simple alteration could change it so drastically. The rune had an amazing power. "What was it you added? What rune was this? She said, pointing at it, feeling her heart open.
Penbrook set his piece of chalk down, "Enlightenment." He walked to the window and looked out at the night sky. "A very simple rune, and one that changes everything in the language of the elves. Powerful. Subtle. You will find that those two things are often found very close together Elaine."
He turned back to her, "You need a new guiding light."
Elaine watched the hands of Mac Anu flicker out words and emotions, more than a little amazed at the speed and accuracy of his movements. She began to pick up some of the more obvious meanings, and some of the curse words. You can't grow up in a tavern your whole life and not learn some of those. Apparently these were also universal.
Naill looked up at her from the bottom step, "It won't be much longer. We'll be leaving soon." She looked back at the conversation, "Do your pants and jacket fit okay? They don't bind you anywhere do they? We will be moving fast."
They didn't bind. They fit perfectly. She shook her head, uncertain of her voice. She was afraid. She was trapped in the rune of fear looking for the door of heaven, and not finding it. Lost.
It suddenly hit her, like a bolt of light. The door of heaven was not in the rune of fear. Something had to be added to it for that alteration. The only thing fear had was terror, loss, and heartache, no matter how you altered it, or redrew the rune, there was only darkness and confusion. Mentally she drew out the rune, testing this thought. Removing lines, moving parts of it around.
Fear, Terror, Blame, Loss, Heartache, War, ... Death.
She stopped.
Fear held nothing for her, no answers. She brushed away the rune from her mind and drew in silver light the simple V shaped rune for enlightenment. She watched the rune glow. By itself it was beautiful, but not as beautiful as it made other runes. She drew the rune for Elaine, her own name. Being a true elf name it was an old rune, and stood for many things. Rapture, poetry, song, the orange light through fall leaves, all of these sprang from the rune Elaine.
She then transposed the rune of Enlightenment across the rune of Elaine, like Penbrook did with the rune for Fear. Her mind glowed, silver light cast across her inner view as she looked at the new rune. It was unfamiliar, she didn't know what it was now, but it was more than Rapture, more than Song. It was beautiful, but it was also dark in some areas, as if hard to see, difficult to focus on. Not really hidden, but some how translucent. But there was an answer here.
She felt the magic build inside her. Her first reaction was fear, threatening to grab hold of the magic and twist it. She focused on her name, with the enlightenment rune transposing it to something more than she was, more than she could be with fear. The fear vanished, and power swept into her unhindered, unchecked. She let it fill her, focusing on the rune, watching it change, and meld with other, more familiar concepts. Concepts Penbrook droned on about for hours, which she suddenly understood, or at least understood why he droned on for hours about them, knowing he was torturing her with their weight and unfamiliarity.
She needed a doorway. Some way out of a trap. She needed her power ready, and unthreatening to her or those around her. She had an answer here, in this rune, what ever it was. A way of controlling the magic in her, a way of using it to its best purpose rather than it being a threat, or something to be feared.
She opened her eyes, and looked over at Mac Anu, watching his hands move through the air. Taking a strand of magic from her rune, she cast it gently onto his hands like a silver thread, and watched as the hands wove runes in the air, traced out by her silver thread. Runes she understood.
There was power here. True power. Subtle power. The power of understanding. She smiled. Funny how those two things are often so close together. In her mind she saw Penbrook smile.
**************************************
Ashi comes in low with her dagger vibrating through the air like a song of power. The iron wire strands of her muscles moving with violent precision. Her balance perfect. Her focus a razor edge cutting through all distractions, taking in every aspect of her opponent; His breath, his pulse, the subtle changes in his eyes, mapping out possible counters and counter-attacks, adjusting the fibers of her body to counter each of them as she continued inside his defenses like a striking viper.
Heilan's palm brushes up the blade of her dagger like a gentle breeze, caresses her arm as if to bring a lover into his embrace, and slams the ridge of his hand into her throat sending her through the air to land solidly on her back.
She stares at the gilded ceiling of Edrin's outer chamber, feeling the absence of her dagger. It was beginning to be a familiar feeling. She knew where it was. It was once again in the hand of her new master. She hears a slight giggle to her right and glances over to see Sorlaya laying on a silk blue couch, with the house boy Sean sitting beside her, his hand covering his mouth in embarrassment, but his eyes still glowing with glee.
"I can't take him either." Sorlaya admits with a shrug. Her smile conspiratory. "Perhaps we should take him together, take him down a notch or two."
She looks at Heilan, twirling her dagger, a part of her soul, in his hand. She can't ask for it, he has to offer it back to her.
"There's nothing wrong with your skills. In fact you are beautiful." He says tossing the knife at her, intending to put it into the floor beside her leg. She catches it out of the air without thought, feeling the joy of completeness once again as the handle meets her palm.
"I don't even come close to you, and each of your counters are death blows." She says, putting the dagger into its sheath by her heart and getting off the floor. "You aren't even armed."
Heilan nods his head and pours a small glass of wine, offering it to her. She walks over and takes it, looking up at his eyes. He certainly is formidable. This close to him she can see through several layers of his consciousness, and the deeper she delves, the more power she meets, though there is a darkness below it all, a heartache. In all aspects however, he truly is her master.
"It isn't because of your skills." He repeats. "Your technique is marvelous and your cunning is obviously a natural gift which you have honed as sharp as your blade." He pours himself a glass. "It is your intent."
She looks at him over he rim of her wine glass, her eyes wide. "My intent?"
"You have only one." He says, sitting down in a heavily padded chair beside the window, a light breeze touching his hair for a moment, brushing a few strands across his eyes. "In that way you and Sorlaya are very much a like. Despite your ability, and your cunning, since I know your focus and your intent, the multitude of possibilities that you could be attempting in your attack, are cleaved away, to a very small set of one or two. While you are preparing for a myriad of counters from me, with amazing speed and skill, I have only two to prepare for, and in the same amount of time, can prepare a myriad of responses."
She processes this, trying to grasp the full extent of this insight.
"Add that to your expectation," he continues, "and the result is ... well, you know the result."
"My expectation?" she asks.
'You expect me to try to win." He says flatly, and looks out to the harbor, and the moonlight on the rigging ropes of the merchant vessels.
Of course I expect you to try to win, she thinks bitterly, feeling the bite of condensention, something she didn't believe he was capable of. What else is there? And you do win, every time. Ten bouts, all of them ending in single death blows resulting in me sprawled out on the ground, disarmed, every time. "I don't understand." she admits and sits on the floor near his chair, contemplating the wine in her glass.
"Your expectation is that I am fighting to win the bout. But I can't." He says, sitting forward and looking in her eyes. "You are too good. There is no way I can win against you."
"But you.."
"Yes, I did win each of them," he interrupted her, "but only because you gave them to me". He leans back, smiling, "Play them back in your mind. Each of them.
She does as she is told. It isn't difficult. They were all very short.
"Am I fighting for my life?" he asks her. "Am I fighting to win?"
She looks at him, but doesn't see a condescending elf, he is open and offering her an insight. A gift. She decides to receive it as such, and plays them again, watching what his movements are, every step, every counter.
No... he wasn't.
"You are fighting for a draw." She whispers, wonder spilling across her face.
"Exactly." He is smiling at her, his eyes open, deep, personal, causing her to blush and look away. "You are too good to fight with the intent to kill or win. I'm not that good. The best I can hope for is a draw, but because you believe completely that I am fighting to win, my counters are unexpected, and take you by surprise. You never see them coming."
The chamber door opens and a wide dwarf steps out of Edrin's bed room, followed by Edrin himself. Though she is human she sees him for what he is, royalty. She has seen many powerful men and women. Every week the richest and most powerful citizens of Shelzar had her as their guest. She has seen them all, knows them all. None of them are like him, except perhaps High Minister Fratreli. Yes, he is forged from the same steel as this Prince of Elves. Her master's master. She suddenly feels a warm pride blossom inside her, but clamps down on it as soon as she recognizes it for what it is. Heilan's only goal is the recovery of the girl. He has no need of her after that, and as soon as he has her, he will leave. Leave Shelzar, and leave her.
Alone.
Ashi thinks about that, she has never been alone before. She was raised in the pits, and the stables. Always there were others, and always there was a master. While not truly a slave, she was bound to these masters. They trained her, healed her, and saw to her needs, giving in return a life of complete focus to the art she loved more than anything else in this world. A life without worry or distraction by any of the petty troubles the rest of the population of this city had to deal with every moment of their lives. All that was expected of her, was the only thing she expected of herself. To win. And win she did.
Yet, in all those years, none of her masters offered to her the gifts she had already received from this master in the two days she has been with him. The gift of being seen. The gift of true insight. The gift of complete acceptance.
"Don't let him kid you Ashi." Edrin says suddenly, breaking into her thoughts, "I can't take him either."
He smiles. She returns the smile and lowers her eyes. The master of my master.
"Have you found her?" Edrin asks Heilan.
"Yes." He says. "She is in a house in the north area of the city. A small group of people, perhaps two or three are watching over her. A woman lives there with three children. They will be attempting to get out of the city tonight."
Edrin nods his head, as if expecting nothing less. He looks over at Sorlaya, an unspoken question in his eyes.
"I don't think they know exactly where she is yet. But they are getting close. Perhaps too close. I was tempted to slow them down, but your orders were to let them advance." She says, coming to a sitting position, like a cat moves from relaxing in a sun spot on the floor, to a hunting posture after prey.
Edrin nods his head again, and Ashi notices something in his eyes. Pain. Then she spots the small spots of blood staining the dark cloth of his jacket under his right arm. The dwarf has noticed them too, but he doesn't make any move towards the prince. Why? Isn't he the doctor?
"The Hag Sisters are cunning," Edrin is saying, "they will only know they are getting too close if we tell them so. Let them come. If their creatures become a threat, take them out."
Sorlaya reaches out and takes her white wood bow with its silver string, and her sheath of arrows. "It could be too late by that time. These creatures are fast and powerful."
"I know all about these creatures." Edrin says, touching his side slightly and wincing. "You have an advantage though. They want her alive."
"That's an edge Prince." Sorlaya says as she steps into the open window and scans the night, and the city. "Not an advantage."
Edrin looks at her, his eyes solid gems. "Your advantage is I don't want them to have her."
Sorlaya looks back at him, her eyes openly searching his face, and finding the confirmation she is looking for, as well as the resolution. "As you command." she says, and leaps from the window into the darkness.
Ashi is stunned. Did the prince just order Sorlaya to kill the girl? What have they been doing these last few days? Is that the real purpose of her master's actions? She doesn't want to believe this.
"Heilan." He says, the same coldness in his eyes as he looks over her, to her master. "Get her out of the city. And away from danger." His eyes drop down to Ashi, seeming to see straight through her, reading her heart. "Her life is your own."
He says this to both of them. There is no doubt in her heart that he means exactly what he has said. With Heilan she says, "As you command."
