The Best Laid Plans... (part 2)

From the Memoirs of Princess Astra of Aqualaria

Fred's idea was a good one, but even the Caves of Vantoris were three or four days away. We decided that Fred and I should take the swiftest of the horses and push on as fast as we could. There were enough in our party that Belinda and Carola should come to no harm without us. I suppose I could have let Fred go to find Malachi on his own, but I felt that I owed it to him to give him all the help that I could. Also, if the worst came to the worst and it became clear that we would not find Malachi in time, I was prepared to kill Fred as he slept to prevent his becoming an evil dragon. I knew that if it should be necessary, it would be by far the hardest thing I had ever had to do.

We told the rest of our group to make for the Aqualarian capital, and if all went well we would rejoin them later on in their journey. I kissed my sisters goodbye, and then Fred and I spurred our mounts into a canter. We made good progress that day. Fred's condition did not noticeably deteriorate, and by the time we made camp for the night we were feeling rather more cheerful.

That night..

...a horrendous sound echoes throughout the area, scaring the bejesus out of everyone. Frightened eyes look down at their bodies, and begin to see themselves fade away...and then flicker out to elsewhere!

Malachi's golden eye's are wide open as she something....severed. It feels like her link to her Hoard, but....that' impossible! If that had happened, she'd be dying right now......

She puts that question off for later to face the more immediate concern. Somehow, she's now aboveground, in the sunlight, facing several human beings (one who has the smell of being...one his way to becoming one of the People). The assortment is rather varied. There is an elegantly dressed (pale) man looking around and blinking, acting more surprised to be here than what the rogue dragonness thinks should be the case (as strange as circumstances are). For some reason, there is a slight stench of the grave on him and he keeps checking his teeth. If she didn't know better she'd swear that this man was one of the undead (like a vampire). Since he's not burning in the sunlight, that looked unlikely. There was a red haired warrior woman as well as two diminutive blonde twins.

They finally seem to notice her and the reactions seem to vary, again. The one with the smell of the People and the red haired warrior woman seems to recognize (and welcome) her. The others seem rather....frightened and afraid, per typical. Rogue good dragons are vanishingly rare, she sighs to herself....

"My name is Malachi Dronocis...and you have nothing to fear from me," she says in a soft, gentle voice.

(Author's Note: this next part is taken in part from episode 14786 by WolfRun)

Captain Locke stared at the enchantress Oyael with frustration. He didn't like mages; nobody did. But now that one was actually needed, her power had proved useless. He had expected that once they had arrived here that Oyael would reveal Denom for what he truly was; a dark spirit, an evil doppleganger, or a pawn of wicked magic. But once they had been brought to Duke Hindsight rather than calling Denom out and ending this bizarre affair immediately, Oyael had instead called for the Lady Rowena. Duke Dred's daughter obediently answered the summons and was questioned, alone, behind the doors of the private chamber. Only after this did she call for Denom. < p> Denom proved to be both less than forthcoming and more than just a sinister liar practicing a macabre charade. But regardless of his performance Locke had assumed that Oyael's magic would expose him for what he truly was. Apparently it had not.

Oyael and Duke Hindsight then interviewed everyone else in the party. Each man was taken into the private chamber separately and questioned, like Lady Rowena, alone. First went his fellow members of the Guard D'Honaire, followed by the merchant man Pall, and then the Chanticleer, and finally himself. He did not think that they would discover anything he had not already learned himself. He knew that their only hope of learning the truth lay in Oyael's mastery of magic. But apparently her mastery was not much to brag about. She had learned nothing, or if she had she was keeping it to herself. The damn witch.

"You will take Denom to Duke Dred, Captain Locke," Duke Hindsight stated. "Those are your orders."

"But that's what he wants," cried Locke. "Whatever trick he is up to will be played upon my Duke, and I cannot allow that."

"You have your orders," repeated Hindsight. "Obey them." And with that Locke was dismissed.

*******

The guests' rooms in Duke Hindsight's palace are found on the second floor. And that was where Fred and Rowena could be found as Pall and the Chanticleer shared each other's company in the tavern. But Fred and Rowena were not allowed to share comfort with each other. Guards had been posted outside of Fred's room to make sure that he did not leave it. Guards had been posted outside of Rowena's room to make sure that she did not try to enter Fred's. It was clear that she believed he was her dead brother, but no one else believed that. And if the man named Denom had enscorcled her mind it would be best that the two be kept apart until they reached Suffex.

Fred looked out of his window at the dark grey sky. Evening was coming on and the autumn air was cold and wet. The guards who patrolled the outer walls of the palace and the city below wore thick sheepskins beneath their armor and as the days rolled on toward Winter's Night they would find it more and more difficult to stave off the cold that seeped into their bones. Fred had spent enough hours himself on patrol and knew how miserable it could get. But here in this warm room, brightly lit, he felt more miserable than he had ever in his life.

He had expected that once he reached Allaria he would be welcomed with open arms. He had been wrong. But at least they were now going to take him to his father. Surely his father would recognize his own son. And then all would be put to rights and Fred could let go of the terrible burden on his mind, the burden that weighed his soul.

He had seen so much, but what was it that he had seen? Dragons locked in war with each other, dead Races that were not so dead after all, evil spirits that tempted men's souls and offered strange messages from dark realms, madmen caught in the grip of unseen forces that glowed green in the night. What did all of this mean? And what of the White Lady and the Queen of Clubs? Had he been cursed? Certainly his arcane sword was proof enough of that. By the gods how he hated magic. He had thought that once he escaped from the shadow of the Goth he would be free of its taint. But it had followed him even here. Yes, he had been cursed and its reach included making him a prisoner among his own people, a man feared and hated.

******

Somewhere within a now defunct's dragon's cave, several small bodies that appeared to have been dead shiver, shimmer, and then disappear. They reappear within the womb that they were conceived in and a literally black skinned woman stirs uneasily in her fevered dreams. The amber dragon jewel pulses balefully, having finally gotten tired waiting for it's current holder to give an order. No matter, it could still do several things by virtue of needing to be whole.

The fetal units had a portion of the Crystallic inside them, and the jewel was not going to let itself be diminished. Soon, it would draw it's other portions to itself....and be whole once more.

****

Duke Hindsight lay back in a large, comfy chair and shook his head. He was not comfortable with the course of action they had decided to pursue. Oyael was lying on a couch, her eyes closed, a crystal goblet in her outstretched hand. It was half empty.

"I still don't understand," she muttered. "What is he? My magic clearly showed that he is Lord Frederigo D'Honaire. Or at least a part of him is. But other parts of him aren't even human, and he has a woman's pancreas for the love of Ganthet. What's he doing with a woman's pancreas?!"

"Well why don't we just ask him?" Hindsight suggested not for the first time.

"No!" Oyael shot back and sat up. "The White Hand has made their decision and you yourself have agreed that it is a wise one. They know everything we do. They will take it from here. Duke Dred is in no danger, regardless of what that captain may fear."

"Perhaps we should have told Locke that your Order will be waiting for them," Hindsight said.

"And that should come as a surprise to him? I'm sure Denom is expecting it,"Oyael replied. "Of course, he has no way of knowing just how many of them there will be, or what they are all capable of doing."

Hindsight shuddered slightly. "You and your magic... I'm just glad that the only sorcerer in my domain is you. The gods protect me if ever my home was overrun by spellcasters and witches!"

Oyael chuckled. "I'm sure you'll miss me when I move on. And who knows who I'll be replaced with. You might just wish I never left. But for now you are as stuck with me as I am with you. Now why don't you leave me be. I have much to think about and I prefer to do my contemplating within the comfort of a hot, steamy bath. As for you, go find that pretty wife of yours. I'm sure you two have something in common. Sometimes frankly I think you spend too much time with me and Lady Tabitha might be getting jealous."

Duke Hindsight laughed and with a nod of his head left the room.

The journey to Suffex was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a strange group of people. Their names were: Jarlath D'Honaire, Annafrid D'Honaire, Astra 9 D'Honaire, Andrea 2, Joan D'Honaire, and thvery displaced blonde woman named only Thelma!

Fred, catching the sight of Astra 9, feels his jaw drop in shock!

Then the *&$!!!#$ hit the proverbial fan...

A slight drizzle had begun to fall since before dawn and the entourage of Captain Flynt Locke was just about to set off down the Longspeer. The Duke and Duchess Halifax of the Duchy Hindsight had already made their farewells and so the gates of the Iris Estate were the scene of horses, carts, soldiers and guardsmen, a chanticleer and a merchant from the south, the Lady Rowena of Suffex, the man

Denom who claimed to be Lord Frederigo of Suffex, and the Captain of the Guard D'Honaire. Then, even as this troupe began to pull away from the guarded walls of the duchy manor, there appeared six forms, and not all were human.

Time seemed to contract as a multitude of actions and reactions occurred simultaneously.

Fred, who had taken the alias Denom, stared in shock at the tall red-head next to the man; she appeared to be Astra of Aqualaria, fully healed from both death and the effects of the crystallic! "But you're dead..." he whispered.

The Guard Halifax raised their swords while the bowmen on the parapets cocked their arrows.

Captain Locke drew his sword yelling, "Be gone you foul creatures!" while the remainder of the Guard D'Honaire likewise unsheathed their weapons.

The man, three of the women and the fox-creature stared in disbelief as the sight about them. The nude woman who had materialized also, too grew large eyes and exclaimed, "Would somebody mind telling me where on&#8212;" she didn't have a chance to finish her thought.

Imagine, if you will, being presented with a most shocking sight. Imagine seeing the land about you empty one moment and then full of people the next. Imagine that the only time you had ever heard of such a thing was in the nursery where bedtime tales were full of such things, and also in basic training camp where captains and masters-at-arms told of the working of evil mages. Imagine seeing a woman fully nude and knowing that no proper woman would dally about so, and being just materialized from the wisps of the sky, the most prudent conclusion is that she was a she-thing, a demoness, a succubus. Imagine seeing a monster the size of a man but wearing the form of a she-fox. Imagine all these things and it is not difficult to understand what happened next.

Many of the horses reared, the merchant and the Lady Rowena screamed, the soldiers advanced with metal poised to kill, the archers let go a volley to those farthest from the guardsmen; the man raised his hands in an act of magic as did the she-fox, while the red-head pulled out a handy staff and the dark- skinned woman a battle-axe.

Within fateful moments there exploded a smattering of blood and gut, of astral energy and raw power,

of pain and fear and awe and surprise. And then it was over. The battle anyway.

Less than a league away, hidden within a copse, the man who moved magic sat weeping tears of blood. His name was Jarlath D'Honaire, but this world knew him not. This world saw him as an enemy and as such, worthy of death. He sat weeping for loss; the loss of a wife, the loss of a sister, the loss of an eye (for an arrow had pierced it before he could get his family out). His other wife, the woman Annafrid, held a bloodied cloth to his face. "Oh god, oh god, how could this have happened? Vincent never warned us about this." There was a growl behind them both, the she-fox called Andrea Two; "You got that right! I swear, when we get back home, I'll rip his throat out! But first I wanna kill these bastard barbarians! If you hadn't taken us out I would've continued to throw fire from the ether at them!" "And at what cost?" responded Jarlath. "Joan is dead, I saw her fall. And Astra was grabbed by that soldier in red armour. How he pentrated my magic I do not know, but something let him in." The three sat and wondered at this world in which they found themselves. They wondered and cried and howled their pain to the skies.

And as for the nude woman whom no one had known, well, she too was deceased. The bolt of a crossbow had pierced her throat; at least her death was swift.