Like Chicks in a Coop

The Never Ending Quest - Episode 15704

Andrea, already exhausted from the past days' terrors gladly accepted the farmer's offer. The man introduced himself as Geoff and his wife –a spindly woman if there ever was one- as Beatrice. The food that was already on the table was split four ways, though Beatrice made sure that Andrea received the largest portion. There was little talk during the meal; the two peasants were unaccustomed to nobility, Andrea was filled only with thoughts of her father, and Astra concentrated on discerning if there was any foul play about. After the simple meal they were shown the couple's bedroom.

"We'll sleep in the kitchen," said the man. "Forgive the poverty of our station, m'Lady."

Andrea pitied him. "Think nothing of it, kind man. You will be repaid for your kindness, this I swear."

They then went to prepare for sleep. Astra was still unconvinced that they were safe, Andrea could not bring herself to believe that the treachery reached this far southeast of the keep. "If it will make you feel any better," said Andrea to Astra. "I shall pray to my gods and ask for their protections." Then Andrea left the room and asked Beatrice for some salt, leaves, and a little dirt. Though the farm woman thought this was odd, she complied. Once alone Andrea began to recite prayers to the goddess Berlin and the Siblings Rham and Rhom. As she prayed she made a warding circle about the bed and the cot brought in for Astra. She carefully used the dirt to shape the symbols and glyphs. "There," she said once finished. "Exactly as my nursemaid taught me." She turned to Astra. "I do not know what gods live in your lands, but here the Siblings hold much power, and I am most found of the goddess of might. The salt, so my nursemaid told me, was to keep out the ancient spirits; the herb to keep my soul fresh; the dirt is from whence we come."

"You are a sorceress, then?" asked Astra.

"Oh no!" cried Andrea aghast at the thought, her head furrowing and her eyes widening. "Witches are a dangerous lot. This is no magic... it is natural art and prayer. Personally, I think my maid Fritha was a healer's apprentice and that this ritual was the only way she fooled a stubborn little girl into taking her medicine. You see, I suffer from poor lungs... asthma is what the healers call it."


Late that night there was whispering in the kitchen, and then the quiet creak of a door. Soon thereafter there was the soft steps of many people, the door, and then slow deliberate steps toward the bedroom. Andrea was fast asleep but Astra was wide awake; she never truly fell asleep, and the sounds of whispering were too loud for her not to overhear. Her claymore was in her hand, and a dozen strategies rallied within her mind. She turned to awaken Andrea, to prepare her for what surely was to come, and that's when the door was flung open. At the door stood two men, there were others behind them. Some held lanterns, all had weapons.

Astra yelled, Andrea awakened, the men rushed in. Blade hit flesh, blood began to pour. Legs kicked, arms shoved, more men rushed in. The claymore rose and fell and rose again, a young girl's screams rose above all. Screams and yells reverberated within that isolated farmhouse, and words from many languages: Common, Allarian, Aqualarian, multiple dialects from the south, from the east, and then a strange tongue that no one in that place had ever heard. It was screamed, it was shrieked, it's pitch higher than the soldiers and mercenaries, more piercing than the foreign- born warrior, it was almost unearthly. Then what lanterns were still lit became black, a blue light seemed to come from nowhere; the men hesitated, Astra stalled, and Andrea fell to the ground in a heap. The blue disappeared and Astra made to grab Andrea but there were too many and in the split of a second she made a most serious decision: she made her bloody escape without the Lady of Croix!


In the morning Astra found herself in the forest again, her body caked in blood –the blood of others as well as her own. Her mind was a'whirl; alone in a foreign land, and the Dragon seemed to reach out everywhere that she turned.

Andrea awoke to find herself in a bedroom. Her mind, dazed and confused, she tried to sit up but found herself too weak. She called out to Astra but she did not come, she called out to her servants but they did not come, she simply called out and then the door opened and a woman walked into her quarters. She was tall, with a sleek neck. Her robes were black yet beautiful. "Good morning, my dear," said the woman. "It is so good to have you back home."

Lucien sat in his chair and cursed. He had been doing a lot of that in the last two days. Even with the capture of the Lady Andrea having just lost six men getting her didn't make him any happier. "They say the woman who defended the girl was a bat out of hell," he said to the little man with red robes sitting across the room. "They say her sword was a part of her body and that even her voice could cut flesh! They say she is a witch, a few that she has a phantom as her companion. What kind of a beast are we dealing with?" "Hmmm..." murmured the little man from across the room. "It seems our 'angel' may be a devil in disguise."

Geoff and Beatrice looked glumly at all that was left of their home. The bedroom was a shambles; the wood of the walls was chopped, the bed and stand broken to bits. Their kitchen and entryroom was no better off. They had done their duty to King and country; they had helped capture the woman they were told was posing as the Lady Andrea, but now their life was turned upsidedown. The soldiers had left, all but three. The three would help keep order, so it was said. But nothing was said of chopping wood, sewing linen, boiling stew, or catching rabbits. Geoff and Beatrice sighed, and did what they had done all their lives; pick up the pieces and continue.

  1. Meanwhile the men of the Order of Dragonsbane question, in much more detail, the failed Dragon Hunter...
  2. A certain ranger, not knowing the capture of Andrea, finally reaches the death skulls of Mt. Cicatrice...
  3. Knowing too much of the troubles in the south and not knowing enough of the west, King Emery tries to enjoy a romantic dinner with his childless wife...

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4/22/2001 11:09:59 AM

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