Path: usenet.ee.pdx.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!reuter.cse.ogi.edu!uwm.edu!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!EU.net!uunet!not-for-mail From: guido@rbg.informatik.th-darmstadt.de (Guido Roessling) Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives Subject: STORY: Qelrik part 50 Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc Date: 2 Nov 1994 13:21:59 -0500 Organization: UUNET Technologies Inc, Falls Church, VA, USA Lines: 209 Sender: smm@uunet.uu.net Approved: smm@uunet.uu.net Message-ID: <398lc7$ckr@rodan.UU.NET> NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net Revenge ================================================================ She dressed by the light of the single candle sputtering in its tin holder. Plain black blouse, black breeches, black boots, plain grey kid gloves. It was cool, so she decided to wear a short black wool jacket, cut full in the sleeves to allow easy movement. Her apricot hair she tied back at her neck with a black silk cord. Carefully, she pulled off gloves and removed her signet ring and ruby ring, and placed them on the small dressing table next to her bed. Fishing under her bed, she pulled out the canvas sheath which protected her two swords, and carefully pulled out the smaller of the two. She found a plain black belt and fastened the sword at her right hip. Carefully, she unfastened the peace chain which secured the sword in its scabbard. Replacing her gloves, she curled her left hand around the sword's hilt, feeling the surge of joy which coursed through her as she did so. It was not from herself; the sword knew her intentions, and was more than happy to participate. She had to be careful. It tended to get too eager, forcing her to act before she was ready. That done, she made sure her baselard was in place, and knelt at the corner of the floor to pray. As she did so, she fingered a small brass coin Pasithea had given her upon parting. A temple coin. When her prayers were done, she closed her left hand over the coin, closed her right hand over her left, bowed her head and concentrated on travel. Fox had been nine the first time she'd gone to the Otherplace, quite by accident. She had been fourteen before she knew the Otherplace had a name, that other people and beings went there, and that she could use it to travel. From the Otherplace, which Fox continued to call it by habit, she scanned for the marker that would match the resonance of the place to the coin. Found it. Fox felt the yank of her body as it was pulled across the Otherplace, across the town, into the small courtyard of a small stone temple. She looked around the quiet courtyard, bathed in moonlight. To her right, a long, low building -- probably sleeping quarters -- was dark and still. At the temple entrance, a large brass bell stood quiet in a black frame of twisted ivy and grapevines. Fox crossed the distance to the bell in two long steps, grabbed the rope and pulled the bell's clapper as far as she could. The echo of the brass-on-brass was positively magnificent, and she retreated to the shadows of a grape arbor, waiting for a reaction. A reaction she got. About seventeen men, hastily dressed in robes, flooded out of the stone dormitory. Three men in neater robes, probably on vigil, strode briskly out of the temple and stood, looking around. "Who rang the Summons Bell?" one of the old men on the temple steps demanded. All the men were talking at once. Fox stepped out of the shadow and folded her arms across her broad chest. "I did," she said quietly. Somehow, those quiet words shot straight through the chaos, and all fell silent. "Young woman," one of the priests demanded, "what is the meaning of this? No woman is allowed in the Center Court. If you have need of the Temple of the Emerald, you may approach the front entrance." "I have no need for the Temple of the Emerald," Fox said contemptuously. "No need whatsoever. I demand by the codes of honor that the one of your number who tried to kill me two nights ago face me like a man, not like a cowering guttersnipe who stabs in the dark." "Honor! You dare let the word 'honor' leave your lips?" a man said from the back of the seventeen, pushing through to stand in front. His eyes were blazing, perceptible even in the relative dark. He pointed one finger at her accusingly. "This . . . monster in woman's form is a vampire!" There was an audible gasp, and Fox laughed, masking her anxiety. This was perhaps not one of the most intelligent things she had ever done, but her lord had often talked her about her rashness. "A vampire, you say? I am not a vampire." "You are one of Nocticula's children. Our Order stands against all who stand in league with evil." "You speak of evil, you who wait in shadow to stab in the dark." "This," he shouted, finger still pointing at her, "is the demon-woman of whom I spoke two nights ago. The follower of the Darkest of the Dark, the one who would give untold misery to hundreds to feed her own selfish desire to cheat Death!" "But you would not face me like a man," Fox continued stubbornly. She knew the Emerald Knights, another religious order, a bitter enemy of the followers of Nocticula. They were more priests than knights, but when necessary, they took up the sword against their enemies. She also knew they had strict codes of honor, and was hoping to shame him in front of his brethren. One of the priests looked at the man, white brows furrowed. "Is this true?" Fox noticed out of the corner of her eye that a few of them had retreated into the dormitory. Probably to get weapons, she figured. The man looked squarely at the priest. "I had a chance to try to dispatch this unnatural creature, and I took it. Such is the fate of those who follow the path of evil." "I demand a duel," Fox said. "You may demand nothing," the priest countered. "You are unwelcome here." "I will fight her," the man said. "Man to . . . whatever she is. Swear to your Dark Lord you will use no magic, only the skill of your arm." Fox smiled. "I swear by the name of the Blessed Nocticula that I shall use none of my magical talents to defeat you." "Cocky, aren't we?" the man sneered, as a young man appeared at his elbow, a sheathed sword in his hand. "Vow, all my brothers, that you shall not interfere with this fight until it is done, for better or for worse. After that, you may do as you will with my blessing. I wish to complete what I did not finish." Fox smiled grimly, and stepped forward, unsheathing her small black blade. In her right hand, she drew her baselard. "You should all know," Fox said, as she stepped into a guard, "that the blade which your fellow tried unsuccessfully to kill me with was poisoned. Do you call that honor?" A rippled murmur fell across the crowd, and for a moment, her opponent looked embarrassed. "She lies," he lied. "Oh, I don't lie. As the town healer, who helped me that night, or any of the patrons of the Cloven Shield that evening. I tell the truth." "If true, that is our concern, not yours," one of the priests snapped. "I beg to differ, but it concerned me greatly." By this time, the man drew his longsword, a gleaming steel blade with a velvet-lined basket hilt, and stood in front of Fox. "When you are ready," he sneered. It was a pitifully short fight. Fox crouched slightly, putting her weight to the back foot as she waited for her opponent to advance. Angered at her accusations, the man swung wild. She easily deflected the blade with her baselard, and sank the small black sword deep into his gut, holding it there as she felt the sword screaming in her hand. She never heard the screams the sword made when it drank blood -- she had been told only those who felt her blade ever heard the sword. But she could feel the vibrations of ecstacy pouring through her blade. His blue eyes widened horribly, and he dropped his blade in the dust as he reached up wildly to claw at his ears. She watched the change in his eyes as his mind was emptied, then yanked the sword free, stepping back to look contemtuously at her opponent. The man stared blankly at the black ceiling of sky, and started to giggle. Fox felt Mindseeker's joy, warm in her hand. One of the priests flew forward, dropped to his knees beside the man and looked up wildly at Fox. "By all that's holy," he whispered, "what have you done to him?" "I have done nothing," she replied with a smile. As the Brothers of the Emerald shouted in rage and charged toward her, weapons drawn, Fox turned to the grape arbor and cast her mind back to the inn. As her body was snapped into the Otherworld, she saw a sword descending which would have cleaved her skull in two if she had been there to experience it. * * * * * * * "I know you are still hungry, but your hunger will have to wait." Fox had no need to clean the sword; Mindseeker always soaked up the blood into itself, feeding the part of it that was nourished by blood. She knew the sword would not force its will on her tonight; whenever it got the chance to feed on someone's mind and destroy sanity, it was usually sated for at least a little while. When Mindseeker became insistent, though, Fox could usually not resist the compulsion to kill. She slid her sword back into her scabbard, and replaced it in the cloth bag under her bed, next to her other sword. Truth be told, she liked the other sword better, mostly because it didn't try to force its will on her. It was a well-made sword, nothing more. She sat on her bed and dissolved the aura which had blurred her face and features. If an Emerald Knight passed her on the street tomorrow, they would not remember what she looked like. True, they might remember the circumstances of her disagreement with them and track her down this way, but she had managed to cover her tracks, for now. This done, she removed her clothes, hung them over a chair, and went to sleep. *************************************************************************** This story is a collaboration of seven people: one German, two Canadians and four Americans. Comments about particular characters should be forwarded to their character's "owners": Finn Ambrose - Sheryl Ann Galchutt* - fi48@sol.acs.unt.edu Gernodt - Guido Roessling - dida@pu.informatik.th-darmstadt.de Dahlarin - Brent Hughes - bhughes@student.business.uwo.ca Kyle - J.E. Mason - ** no current mail address ** Fox - Barbara French - bcfrench@mailbox.syr.edu Will appear in future chapters: Gladrial - Jennifer Immel - bhughes@julian.uwo.ca Sir Percy - Bret Rudnick - rudnick@cfatrw.harvard.edu If you have WWW access, you can also read the chapters there. The site is http://rbhp62.rbg.informatik.th-darmstadt.de/~guido/qelrik.html ************************************************************************** ************************************************************************** Legal stuff about Qelrik All characters contained in this story are the sole and exclusive property of their authors. They are the copyrighted property of the authors, and may not be used for any reason without the express written permission of the authors. Qelrik is (c) 1993, 1994 Guido Resszling, Brent G. Hughes, John E. Mason, Barbara C. French, Jennifer Immel, and Bret Ryan Rudnick. Gernodt T'Slorung -- Guido Roessling Dahlarin -- Brent G. Hughes Growler --