Merryn opened the door a little. Maxwell again. Somehow, he always managed to show up. How did he keep finding them? There were no mages in his party, at least none that looked like one.

Footsteps from behind.

"They will kill you; why don't you com-" Parcival placed his hands on hers.

"Then what? They'll burn this town to ashes looking for me."

She took her hands out of his. Did he really care, or was there another reason? She wrapped her pouch's ties around her fingers tightly.

She rubbed her arm. How am I to follow Olenus' teachings if-? There wasn't any other choice.

Parcival's palms smacked the tabletop. 

"Takes only one hit from those spears of theirs, and you will be afflicted with the poison, paralyzed, waiting for a slow death when your heart explodes hours later."

She flinched.

"He won't be able to touch me, much less injure me. You forget who you're dealing with, human," she huffed. She glared at him. Insulting is what it was. Losing to a human?

"Do you know nothing of the Elven?"

The hairs on her arms bristled, and she fought down a darkness, a darkness all her own. Can't let it win. It's bad enough the god had piggybacked, but to have to deal with what the dark spirits had placed?

"I admit my studies are lacking when it comes to your people, but only because they refuse to share much of their history and culture."

A pained expression crossed his face; it was at odds with his words.

"If you like, I could tell you a little, sometime?"

It was strange caring about this; everything inside was a warped mess. Have been hanging around with the man too long. Is this the weakness mother tried to explain? She scowled.

"Would you? I mean, it would be most interesting to learn about your history; so little is known."

His face took on that look only young kids had and in his eyes, a spark kindled for just a minute. A smile played on her lips. His mood was Infectious. Hea.

If you get too soft people will die. Remember, he's out there.

It was something she wanted to bring back often. Everything they'd told her about humans just didn't fit, to how he this one acted. She bit the inside of her cheek. It brought back some measure of control. 

Reality sucked rotten hog hanks as Maxwell's voice lanced from outside. There were no joys not for me.

"I want no mistakes, this time, understand? Capture them both and burn the town to the ground!"

It was hard to see through the tiny carved window.

The Nekhawk circled the church above, swooping down. It landed on Maxwell's shoulder. Its tentacles curled upwards as it preened a wing. Not that thing again.

Maxwell faced his men. They all nodded. They spread out, each standing by a house with an unlit torch in hand.

"Let me go out there. A woman should not do this. This is absurd!"

He held both her arms with both of his hands. 

"You're not going out there."

"Let go, now." They never said not to knock them unconscious.

"You shouldn't have to do this ..." He breathed in several short, shallow breaths.

She suppressed a smile. He really didn't know? The naivety was refreshing.

The vines on her back warmed then turned hot. They worked in deeper. She backed up slowly to the wall. Dizzy again. Sounds took longer to understand.

The vines under the skin of her neck moved up; they tapped repeatedly at the back of her skull. She clawed at the vines and shrieked.

Resisting makes it harder. Like it or not, this is happening. The side effects are unfortunate. 

Everything had a haze to it as if a bad dream she couldn't quite shake off.

"You need to recover more. Go lay down. I'll take care of this." He held out his hand.

She moved to him. A pinched expression strained his face.

Before she could ask him who he was, a voice in her mind interrupted her.

This voice. She held her head in her hands. A vague memory surfaced. An image of an energy field. A yellow stone? Ah, a crystal, it turned dark then went away. The ache that came with it didn't.

She rubbed her forehead and breathed a ragged breath. "You may be right."

"Your face is flushed." He came over and reached out.

She bent away. Now wasn't the time for this. Need a clear head.

"You don't have to go out there."

Out? should I?

Destroy? Peace, what was this? Let me wake up! The warmth cooled, and her scalp prickled. She shook her head as a rush pricked over her scalp. A thought in the back if her mind, it fluttered out of grasp. Listen to the man or a creepy voice. Both options sucked.

"Let me help." The man stood in front, his eyebrows raised.

This one sucked less. Did he have the other? 1011Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmg29Jq7NSO

But you just said not to. Who are you?

Another rush. A broken image of a dry wasteland, its sky dark, broken by lighting. This was home?

Who are you?

A friend. His thoughts were syrupy and thick in nature.

Rings of smoke tickled her nose. A cat man sat reserved puffing his pipe. His ears turned back.

In the Undergod's name! She backed up as he grew closer. Would it eat her?

"You're looking ill."

The strange blue-eyed man was suddenly close to her face! She scrambled; her back pressed to a wall. He looked at her, then at Han. His brows rose and then crinkled.

"Remember when you found her in the rafters?"

The cat-man breathed in a deep, fearsome breath; his teeth poked out.

"The infection seems to have an adverse effect on her. It would be wise to get her to stay in here."

He pushed the chair next to the table, picked up a necklace with beads on it, and put it around his neck.

She edged towards the door as they talked. Where's Dad? Where the hell is this? Have to get back home; a pulling from within towards the sea and beyond called.

"Don't go out there!" the cat-man said.

You're crazy; make up your mind! Could the others hear this voice? No, of course not, they'd say something.

Nobody tells me to shut up. You ... it trailed off, quiet.

"Where is the disgusting Elven? Send her out now, or I'll burn this town!"

Hoofbeats resound outside.

Through the window slit many men passed.

She edged closer to the door, gripped the steel door handle, and took in a deep breath.

Several doors slammed outside as the panicked people ran into their homes.

"You have no right to threaten our town, you filthy bugbear!" the old woman yelled and shook her hands at Maxwell.

"Hold your tongue, woman, or I'll cut it off."

The blue-eyed man came out of the church then stood in front of the old woman.

"You will not."

Grabbing the handle, she yanked it open and went down the steps.

"Leave her alone," Marryn said in a tight, baneful voice.

Defying me? For what, a wrinkled raisin of a woman?

Do you ever stop talking, spirit?

The old woman ran into her house and slammed the door. The already empty streets grew even quieter, if that was even possible.

The blue-eyed man came over.

"No, get out of here."

She pointed at the road. "Go."

"I will not. You know exactly why."

He straightened then pushed her behind, sword drawn.

"Go back inside. I don't need your help." Fourteen harpy hells, this man was vexing. 

Maxwell. I know him. As for the others the names were fuzzy. Negative energy came off him, comparative to a squall ready to blow through anything in his path. Clenched teeth and face taunt, he pulled the spear off his back ,dashing with it.

She shoved the blue-eyed man out of the way.

With little time to think, much less react, she swerved out of the way. She stumbled and caught her balance.

The armored man wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword.

The cat man grabbed his hand and shook his head. He motioned the other man to move back over to the church.

The headache faded; all came to focus. One minute it seemed she was in the church talking with Parcival, and then in another, facing Maxwell. What was going on here? The vines relaxed, and her clarity returned.

She turned her head pleading with her eyes, don't.

Parcival's arm fell to his side, and his fists clenched. "This is all wrong." He went down the church steps, hesitated, and followed Han.

He spun around then lunged forward a few steps. His brows had knit together with his lips drawn. He gripped the sword's scabbard so tightly the leather grip squeaked. So protective, why?

Han shook his head. "Let it be. He's a king's guard."

"The law? You mean his law." Parcival spat onto the ground.

"Are you trying to get us all killed?" Han yanked on his arm.

Maxwell turned towards them. "I'll deal with you later."

Then focused on her, she let go of a breath she was holding. He ran towards her and lunged. The blade of the spear clanged against her blades.

She avoided the same fate to her neck, by craning away a fraction faster. Have to get out of here. Am way over matched. What to do? There's so little time. The way back to the road was open. Could just vanish now; that last loss of spiritual energy was the worst to happen this week. 

She backed up into what she assumed was a lamp post. I want to go home, back to the temple.

I really, really, really hate you.

She pushed up against the lamp post, standing tall. It helped shore up some courage or at least bravo.

She hissed at Maxwell and lunged at him. Gah, just go away.

"Your corpse on a funeral pyre would look pretty, and such a fitting entrance to the Underworld."

She shrunk back and tried to edge away. The answer left a keen pang in her stomach.

He spun the spear in the air and aimed at her head again. Great, just great! Her pulse quickened, and her breathing faster. That was way too close.

Maxwell held it with both hands, now, as he attempted to land a massive blow to her skull.

She gripped the post with both hands, twisted in mid-air and swung around, and let go. Both blades crossed in front of her.

"I don't want to fight. Leave me alone, now!"

"You say one thing and act in another. All is irrelevant. You'll pay for what you did. If you want to make it easy for me then, go ahead."

He jumped back, his arms out for balance, and then lunged forward with the spear. She ran around a large flower pot, jumping onto the eaves of a house. His spear hit behind her; several roof pottery tiles shattered.

As he came closer, she kicked at him. It didn't phase him. He closed the distance and twirled the spear above his head. It whirred in the air. She cried out and backed away into a wall.

Don't want your kind of help.

She ran at Maxwell with her blades crisscrossed and aimed for his neck. I won't lose to a human.

Go away.

She clenched and unclenched a dagger handle, while tracking Maxwell's movements. There had to be some way to stop him.

"So close, yet once again, you missed the mark!"

He backed and parried. His muscles bulged as he pushed down on the blades.

She fought against letting loose the hungry ancient heart contained within, threatening to boil over and consume the last gossamer thread left of control.

No wonder they locked you away. She squeezed her fist as the blood call gnawed under the surface. Shut up!

His spear clashed amid the blades. He pushed down, sending a spray of sparks erupting into the air.

The day grew hotter and pushed down on her, almost as much as Maxwell.

He looked down at her. "Why do you fight me? Accept your death with grace! I was not the one who slaughtered thousands of people that day! Or, are you just uncaring?"

"That isn't-"

His words heavier than any spear.

Be quiet! 

Maxwell pushed her down to her knees.

How can he grin right now? Her arms burned with the effort of moving the spear tip away from her neck.

The armored man dashed forward, then pointed his sword at Maxwell's head.

Maxwell looked at him, his eyes but slits. A darkness formed over Parcival. He dropped his sword onto the grass. He slumped down on the ground and collapsed.

"Get back." Sweat dripped down her forehead and off her nose.

Parcival's face peaked, and his lips whitened. He clamped his mouth shut. His eyes glazed, and he drew in a breath through his teeth. His legs twitched violently, and his eyes rolled back into his head, showing the white undersides.

"He's innocent; let him go," she said.

Maxwell grounded his teeth, snarling. "Go home, fledgling."

Han grabbed Parcival by the arm and dragged him away.

He focused on her, once again; he struck the spear down hard near her heart. It took all her concentration to hold the god at bay. 

With each breath, she drew in the spear, inching ever closer to her heart. She let go, freeing one hand, while keeping the spear away from her neck with the other. Her other hand slipped out a throwing dagger she hid under her back armor. She slashed at his hands and cut a deep gash on the top of it.

Blood ran down his arm in a stream; the smell of it filled the air with a sharp metallic smell.

She ran at him, again and tried to stab his bare chest.

He pushed away from the dagger with the sword hilt. "What are you smiling about? Stop it, I say!" he said.

An instant later, he stepped back. Smiling? Since when is a grimace a smile? Idiot.

Maxwell's head jerked back, and he sucked in a breath. Before she could move away, he backed up, then twirled around and landed a lucky strike that clobbered her shoulder.

She tried to get way as he hammered down on her with the blunt end of the spear. It was all she could do to protect her head with her arms.

"Stop this!" A shuffling of feet.

"You want more pain, Paladin?"

Moving was was painfull, she staggered and fell.

Han closed his eyes and turned around.

"I hate her more, than I fear you," Maxwell said. "I don't fear you much, cub."

Parcival ran at him.

Han slammed into his knees, knocking him down.

"He will kill you; ignore the taunts."

Maxwell smiled at this then bent down. His eyes narrowed to a thin bright line that flashed across the edges. He whispered a spell and held his hand close to her face.

The pain was immediate; it wracked through her body. She pushed her nails onto the top of her arm and tried not scream. Only the weak screamed.

Standing above her, his deranged smile broke into a fissure from the corners of his lips and pulled up his cheeks. He held his spear in both hands, thrusting it for the moral strike. She glared, unflinching.

Parcival dashed into Maxwell and struck his leg, slashing a deep cut through the cloth robe. They went rolling onto the ground.

Maxwell stood first then punched Parcival in the nose, stunning him. Tears came out of Parcival's eyes, and he cupped his nose, moaning.

Limping, Maxwell slowly backed away then jumped onto his horse as he signaled to the others to follow him.

Casting his gaze at her. "We will finish this later."

Then to Parcival. "You think I'm the evil one? Ask her. Ask her what she's done."

Dust filled the air as he and his men faded from view.

"What in heaven's name is going on with you?" Parcival asked.

Don't care.

With that, the vines pulled back into her body.

" ..... " She closed her eyes. If it thinks I'll cry it's mistaken. 

Han arched an eyebrow at her. His ears perked up. "Hum."

Han stepped over to Parcival, putting his hand on his nose, then closed his eyes and whispered a prayer. His hands glowed white.

She watched the plume of dust. What if next time-there was little point thinking about it. Do the job and get it done; little else mattered. Her chest tightened again.

She went over to him. "Thank you."

He nodded. Before he could say anything, she quickly hugged him and let go.

"I need some time alone. I'll meet up with you both later," she said.

"I'll be at the Library they have here. It's not the largest I've seen, but it should be adequate," Parcival said.

She looked over to Han.

"And you?"

"After this day, I think a good stout drink is in order."

He lit his pipe, turned about towards the town's only inn.

I better not. Her mind spun with everything that had gone on lately. 

She mulled around town, touching fabrics and munched an apple.

Behind a broken fountain, a hiss.

She inspected it. Nothing was there. Need sleep. A good long sleep fixed most things.

Her arms and legs had a mild tremor to them. She rubbed them while walking.