Part 12: Homecomings and Revelations
(Girl Talk, Hellmouth Style)

St. Wolf Residence
Sunnydale, California
23 November 1998

As Amy and Shaw materialized in Steve's training room, Shaw started to pitch forward. Luckily, Amy's reflexes were up to the task of steadying the ranger before she fell face-first onto the floor.

As Shaw steadied herself, clutching at her abdomen, Amy let a little smile creep onto her face.

"You weren't kidding, were you?" the witch asked. As Shaw looked at her, she added, "About getting sick, I mean."

"No," the half-elf said weakly. "I find it ironic that someone from a world of magic can adjust to airplanes so easily, and not to teleportation."

"Maybe it's an acquired taste," Amy offered good-naturedly.

Shaw shrugged, and took in her surroundings for the first time. After darting her head around a few times, she looked at Amy.

"The others?" she asked with concern bleeding over onto her face as well as her voice.

<Figures.> Amy thought wryly. <She's the one who's fucked up, and the first thing she does is ask about everyone else.>

Amy looked at her watch, and shrugged. "Eight-thirty, so they're all at school."

Shaw tensed up, and warning bells went off in Amy's head. She quickly reached out and grabbed Shaw's arm.

"Whoa, girl," she ordered, looking Shaw in the eyes to get her undivided attention. "We'll cast the spell soon as they get here. Settle down."

"But, Amy. ."

"Stop," she said. She looked around and saw the scroll sitting on the weight bench. She walked over, and picked it up and read it. After a few seconds, her shoulders slumped.

"What is it?" Shaw asked, a tinge of worry lacing her words.

"It takes two witches to cast the spell," Amy said, holding up the scroll. "One to take the Quickening out, the other to focus it and send it into the Immortal who takes it in."

"Someone has to absorb this thing inside of me?!?" the priestess asked in disbelief.

<Oh, shit.> the witch thought, looking at her cousin. "Shaw, it's a Quickening, it has to go into an Immortal. I mean, where else would it go? Don't wanna wreck our shrine to Artemis."

Shaw looked over at the Amazons' shrine, and nodded softly. "No, Amy. Of course not."

<You just gotta know what buttons to push with her,> Amy said to herself. After she did, she frowned. <That's not very funny right now, is it, Madison.>

"I'm sorry, cuz," Amy said regretfully with a sorrowful look in her eyes, "I'd cast it in a second if I could do it myself. That way, it'd be all over."

Shaw nodded, hugging herself as she pace around the training room. The Amazon watched the half-elf and knew something was wrong.

<That's a nervous habit of hers. When she's really worried about something, she hugs herself.>

"Shaw, what happened before we came back?" Amy asked, jumping a bit at her startled reaction. <Whoa, deep in thought, much?> "You were fine until Cordelia and I went into the office, then you wigged out over something. What happened?"

Shaw just looked at her for several seconds, as still as a marble statue. Then, suddenly, her eyes glistened and her mouth began to tremble. She bowed her head, apparently unable to form the words she wanted to express. Amy quickly walked over and touched Shaw on the upper arm.

"Hey, settle down," she firmly stated. She nodded over to the bench and said, "let's sit down." <This is not going so easy, Artemis.>

*****

Connor MacLeod's Office
MacLeod's Antiques
New York City, New York
23 November 1998

As Artemis entered the office, Xander looked around and asked, "We got everybody this time?"

Cordelia looked at him crossly, and he started to back up, but Artemis stepped up behind him and slapped him upside the head.

"Oww!"

"Thanks, Lady," Cordelia said with a smile.

"My pleasure," the Goddess said with an equal grin. She looked at the Wanderer, and asked, "With your permission, shall we go?"

"Of course," Steve said, looking to Buffy and taking her hand. "Whenever you're ready."

"Then let us be off," Artemis said, snapping her fingers.

*****

St. Wolf Residence
Sunnydale, California
23 November 1998

Shaw slowly walked over and settled herself on the bench, still tense. The blonde witch sat next to her on the half-elf's left side, and softly asked what had happened.

The black-haired warrior stumbled over the first few words, but proceeded to quickly spell out what she'd said to Buffy after the revelation that Angelus had been in New York. By the time she finished, she was starting to cry over her loss of control. Amy watched her cousin sitting there, dejected, before sighing and leaning over, putting a supportive hand on her left shoulder.

"No wonder you wigged," the teenager said softly, squeezing the half-elf's shoulder. "Buffy'll understand. She knows you didn't mean it."

Shaw raised her eyes to Amy's, and the look of sadness in her green-shaded pupils told Amy something.

<Did she mean it?> "Shaw, did you mean what you said?" she asked.

Shaw nodded her head, quite obviously hating herself for her positive answer. Before Amy could counter, Shaw blubbered out, "I. .I wanted to be in San Francisco with the rest of you. I was upset when. ."

She broke off, not wanting to go further. However, Amy knew what had been left unsaid.

"When you stayed here," she finished. At Shaw's tear-filled nod, she pressed on. "Shaw, we needed someone to stay here. You were the only one we knew that could do it. At least, here in Sunnydale."

"I know! Steven told me this!" she spitted out. "You trusted me to keep our homes safe, but. . ."

"But what?" Amy pressed.

"It still hurt, Amy," she whispered hoarsely, now staring at the floor. "I felt honored that I was trusted, but I still wanted to go with you. It is so confusing, Amy."

Amy gave her a sad smile that was unseen by the recipient. "I understand."

"But now, I. ." Shaw stopped, and looked back at Amy. With a trace of fear, both in her eyes and voice, she asked, "Amy, have I lost my place here with you?"

Amy's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide with shock at the question. It took her more than a few seconds before she recovered enough to answer.

"How the hell could you think that?!?" she snapped incredulously. "We've been going nuts for the last four days trying to save you!!"

Shaw scooted away from the witch's outburst, and almost fell off the bench. The scared look on her face caused Amy to regret her shout, and reined in her ire.

She sighed, and said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that. But what makes you think we'd do that to you?"

The Mielikkian still looked upset, but answered. "What I said to Buffy was unforgivable, Amy. I. . .I hate to know that I could say such things."

"And you wouldn't have said it if you didn't have that funky lightning bolt in your belly," Amy pointed out, literally pointing at Shaw's stomach.

"But to say that to someone I look up to, a friend trying to help me," Shaw said, folding her hands between her knees and eyeing them, "there is no excuse whatsoever for that."

After a moment of stunned silence, Amy asked, "Did you just say that you look up to Buffy?"

Shaw nodded once, and said, "I have been here long enough to see the kind of people you are. Steven and Buffy would be seen as great heroes even on Toril, a world filled with such people for centuries." Shaw looked forward, staring off into space. "I have read about Buffy's history, and I have talked with her and Giles. She is the kind of person I was before. . .I made the mistakes that I made. The type of person I want to be again."

Amy just sat there, not believing what she was hearing. <Did Shaw Hunter just admit to having heroes?!?> she asked herself silently, her thoughts racing. <And she still thinks. .>

"Shaw?" Amy asked, getting the ranger to look at her, "Do you really think that you're not a good person?"

"Amy, these last days, I am. .I am always so angry and hateful. ."

She stopped, covering her mouth as the tears flowed down towards the floor. "Amy, I thought I was doing better. ."

"Stop it right there," Amy snapped, grabbing Shaw's arm hard and making her look straight at the witch. "You think you're not a good person? Well, let me tell you something about Shaw Hunter. You wanna know what Buffy, someone you look up to, asked me about you?"

Shaw looked dubious, but quietly answered, "Yes."

Amy nodded emphatically. "Good," she said. "Buffy asked me how can you care so much about helping others after all the shit you've gone through in your life. After all the stuff that's been done to you, why do you want to help others?"

The half-elf just watched her, processing her question. After a few seconds, she answered.

"I merely want to live up to the example my grandparents set, the way they lived their lives and how they taught me to live. I see the same example being set by you and the others. Amy. .after all those years of hate, I want to be like I was all those years ago." She shrugged, and added, "It is the way that I am."

<The way you are? No kidding.> Amy thought, smiling again. "That simple, huh? And I can't help but notice that you said 'the way you are.' As in here and now."

Shaw looked at Amy, trying to understand what she meant, and she opened her mouth to speak, but she lowered her head and started to grow flushed, rather than answer.

Amy's smile disappeared as she watched Shaw, and asked, "Do you really find it that hard to think that maybe you ARE as good now as you were when you were younger?"

"Amy, I have so much anger and hate inside of me," Shaw said, crying and refusing to look at her, "I can feel it. ."

"It's not yours, dammit," Amy said harshly, trying to keep Shaw from getting depressed. "It's that Immortal's, not yours. You gotta keep 'em separate."

"I have tried!" the half-elf blurted out, smacking her fists against her thighs. "I have been fighting this since it began! You do not understand. ."

Amy's temper flared as Shaw said that. She jumped to her feet and snapped, "Of course I don't understand! You won't let me!"

As the Slayerettes materialized, they looked around in confusion. They'd been teleported into the kitchen.

"Uh, why'd you bring us here?" Buffy asked.

"First, I think Amy and Shaw need some privacy," Artemis replied, snapping her fingers again and creating several plates of pancakes, French toast, bacon and scrambled eggs out of thin air. "Second, Xander threw away three perfectly good boxes of donuts when he saw Shaw."

"Hey, that's right," Cordy said, starting to move after him.

"Oh, your jelly donuts are more important than a friend?" Xander asked as she wound up to hit him.

Cordelia stopped in midswing, and looked at Artemis. "Don't you hate it when me makes a good point?"

"No, it gives you a challenge on ways to counter them," the Goddess said, grinning at Xander.

"Gee, thanks," he mumbled.

"Anyway," Steve said, starting for the door, "I'm going to head for my office and call Giles and let him know we're back."

Before he reached the door, both the door to the living room and the side door leading outside glowed with a blue glow. Steve stopped, and turned to the Olympian with a raised eyebrow.

"Should I even bother asking why?"

"As I said, they need privacy," Artemis said evenly, snapping her fingers again. "Their talk isn't going as well as I'd hoped. Let them have the time they need."

A flash on the counter drew the attention of the four Slayerettes, and when it died, Steve's cordless phone, attached to the speaker, were prepared for the Wanderer to make his call.

Steve chuckled. "Okay, you win."

*****

Sunnydale High Library
Sunnydale, California
23 November 1998

As the phone rang, Giles debated over whether or not he should answer it. He'd been swamped with a couple of days worth of paperwork due to Shaw's departure, and he was scrambling to catch up.

<Can't blame her, though.> he thought. <Perhaps we could convince Artemis to force Ares into doing it.>

On the tenth ring, the Englishman sighed and picked up the phone.

"Sunnydale High Library," he answered.

"Oh, I was trying for Domino's," Steve's voice replied.

"Very funny," Giles snorted. He removed his glasses, and started to clean them. "Hello, Steve. Are you calling with a progress report?"

"You might say that," St. Wolf replied mysteriously. "Good news, and bad news."

"Well, I suppose the good news should come first," the librarian said ruefully. "Oh, and how is Mr. MacLeod?"

"How should I know? We're not in New York."

Giles paused in cleaning his glasses. <Did Shaw leave New York?>

"I know you're going to give me some sort of smart answer, so I'll just get it over with," he said flippantly. "Where are you now?"

"In my kitchen," was the somewhat unexpected response.

Giles had started to write to take down some notes, but stopped at the answer.

"Did you say, in your kitchen?" he asked, to make sure he'd heard correctly.

"Yep."

"And where are the others?"

Steve said, "Well, Buffy, Xander, Cordelia and Artemis are having breakfast. Well, that is, except for Artemis."

"And Amy and Shaw? They're not with you?"

"Not exactly," Steve said, and Giles could imagine the grin on the Wanderer's face.

"Then where are they, exactly?" the Watcher asked in a perturbed voice.

"They're in the training room."

Giles sighed, and counted to ten. "Steve, you know we can't just drop everything and head over there. It'd raise suspicions we can't afford after San Francisco."

"No kidding," St. Wolf said on the other end. "We're going to stay at my place and try to catch some sleep. Amy's talking to Shaw, who's still scared out of her wits. According to Xander and Cordy, the four of them put a whoopin' on the God of War."

Giles almost dropped the phone. "Ares got directly involved? And the children had to fight him?"

"Hold on a sec," came the response, and then a few seconds later, Steve chuckled, "Artemis says she helped by enhancing Amy's spells and Shaw's skills. And apparently Ares won't be able to get even with us."

"Well, that is a relief. I'll inform the others. I assume we'll be heading over to your residence as soon as school's over?"

"You bet. We need to get that Quickening out of her ASAP. I'll call Duncan and Robin's places, let them know we're back."

"Of course," Giles said hanging up the phone and preparing to talk to Jenny when she came down to share lunch with him.

*****

St. Wolf Residence
Sunnydale, California
23 November 1998

The shout shocked Shaw into complete silence, as she watched the now angry witch staring at her, with anger equal to anything she'd ever seen from Shaw. It took the ranger a few seconds to regain her voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What do I mean?!?" Amy mocked angrily. "You've been here two months, and I don't know shit about you! How the hell am I supposed to understand you if you don't tell me anything?"

The half-elf appeared to be confused at Amy's vehemence. "Amy, I have told you things about myself."

The blonde teen folded her arms and snapped, "When, Shaw? Name on time you've said jack shit about yourself?"

"The night in the library," she reminded Amy. "The morning after, I told you more."

Amy cut the half-elf's answer off in mid-sentence. "Facts, Shaw. Where you've been, what you've done. That's not what I want!"

Shaw's eyes went wide at the last words out of Amy's mouth, and her face twisted into a bit of anger as well, as her jaw clenched, and her fists curled up a bit as she stood up and glared straight into the witch's eyes.

"What did you say?" she asked in a hiss.

"I said I don't want to know the facts, dammit," Amy said, under more control but still taking the hard line. But, before she could elaborate, Shaw took over the offensive in the conversation.

"If you did not want to know, why did you not tell me?!?" she yelled, moving forward a couple of paces. "Why have you waited two months to tell me this?!? Why?!?"

"I've been waiting for two months for you to tell me about yourself, dammit!" Amy retorted. "You told us all that shit in the library, but it doesn't say shit about YOU!"

The anger in Shaw's face quickly lessened, and a puzzled look came over her as she tried to understand what Amy meant.

"Amy, I do not understand," she said, trying to comprehend what Amy was trying to tell her. "You said you do not want to know about me."

Amy's own anger faded a bit as she realized her kin's confusion. "Oh, Goddess, Shaw," Amy said, clenching her hair in her fists. "That's not what I meant! Dammit, Hunter, just once, can't you read between the fricking lines?"

Tears started to streak down Shaw's face, as her emotions roiled together as she tried to understand. "Then do not say things that confuse me!" she screamed, although to Amy it sounded more like a plea. The older vampire fighter waved her hands in evident frustration. "Tell me what you mean, Amy! I am so tired of trying to understand what people say, thinking that I understand what they mean, but in truth they mean another."

In a mourning tone, she said softly, "I am so tired of doing things wrong."

Amy's anger faded a bit, and while still angry, she realized that she might now have an opening. She decided to work with it, to see if it would have any effect.

"Shaw, you're not the only one who makes mistakes," Amy offered, trying to sound reasonable. "We've both made mistakes in this." When she said that, Shaw's head started shaking.

"Amy, you have not--"

"Listen to me, dammit," Amy said, slapping her hands against her thighs. "Just let me talk, and I'll tell you exactly what I'm trying to tell you. Okay?"

When she lowered her head, red with embarrassment, Amy nodded.

"Okay. Shaw, you've been waiting two months for me to tell you what I want to know, right?" At the soft, single nod, Amy said, "I've been waiting for you to tell me anything about yourself."

Shaw's head came back up, confusion and anger combining, and Amy said, "You wanted any relationship between us to be my choice, right?"

"Yes, and I have tried to be patient, Amy," the half-elf said with a soft whine. "I did not want to push you. ."

"And you haven't. But I decided a while ago that I wanted to do this. I thought you knew that."

Shaw shook her head, and the tears that were running down her cheeks started to flow even faster.

Amy's heartstrings tugged at her a bit, and she said, "Did you really think that you had to have my permission to talk to me? Or that I had to ask you what I wanted to know?"

Shaw's mouth started fluttering as she began to protest. "No, Amy! If you wanted me to tell you anything, all you had to do was tell me what you wanted to know." Shaw started to bow her head, and softly added, "I did not know what you wanted me to tell you, or. . if you wanted to know."

"Because it was my choice?" Amy asked. Before Shaw could answer, Amy asked a second question, one of many she needed an answer to. "What about your choice? Shouldn't you have a say in this?"

Shaw looked back up at Amy, and shook her head in sadness. "Amy," she said, her voice barely audible, "I do not feel that I have a right to a choice in this, not after what I did."

"What?" Amy asked, trying to pry more details out.

"Manipulating you like Jehanne did me," Shaw said, finally admitting the reason for her reluctance in the matter. "I did the same thing to you that she did to me, Amy. I told you about myself so that all of you would accept me for the prophecy."

Shaw turned her back to Amy, and Amy could tell that Shaw was trying to speak through her tears, as she continued her explanation.

"I hurt you, I made you angry. ." she said, trailing off. She turned back to Amy, and through a virtual sob she said, "Amy, I did not know how important this mystery about Alison was to you. I would have told you, do you not know that?"

"Shaw, if you had told me," Amy countered, trying to reduce the guilt she could hear, and almost feel, coming out of Shaw's words, "it might have screwed up the prophecy. Would you really want that?"

"So, I hurt you," Shaw said, not bothering to wipe her tears, "and I could see how much it hurt and angered you, Amy. Do you know how much it hurt me to know that it was *I* who did that to you?"

Amy sighed, and with a soft, gentle sound she said, "Shaw, I'm not angry about that anymore. I haven't been mad for a while. And you need to stop feeling guilty about it."

"I. ." Shaw began to say, but she stopped, lowering her head, not speaking.

Amy cleared her throat, and Shaw's head came back up. "See, that's part of the problem. You start to say shit, but you close up," she said.

Amy walked a little closer, and Shaw, this time, didn't move back, looking at the witch with wet eyes.

"I. .I am afraid of saying--"

"Something wrong," Amy finished, drawing a widening of Shaw's eyes. "Shaw, I talked to Duncan. I know what you told him."

"He told you?" Shaw asked in a breathy voice, the barest traces of bewilderment and anger in her words.

"No," Amy said, pulling the Walkman out of her pocket, "you did."

She held up the player, and Shaw's eyes flickered over to it, and then back to Amy's own dark blue ones.

"He recorded what I said?"

"Will you let me explain, before you lose control again?" Amy asked.

It took an effort for Shaw to remain still, and to keep quiet, but she nodded, despite the fact that Amy could tell she was upset.

"He thought you might run from him, if you thought you might hurt him," Amy began. "He hoped you might drop a hint where you'd run. He had no idea you'd tell him what you did."

Shaw considered her explanation, and asked, "To help me?" When Amy nodded once, she asked another question. "What did he tell you, Amy?"

"Nothing," the Slayerette replied, and when she saw that Shaw was stumped, she elaborated. "I told him I wanted YOU to tell me. So, he gave me the tape. Shaw, I finally figured out why you haven't said anything to me. You're scared shitless that I might say 'go fuck yourself' or something like that."

"I am not 'scared shitless,' Amy," Shaw said petulantly.

"Oh, really?"

Shaw added, in a hollow whisper, "It does not cover how I feel."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Do you really think I'd do that to you? 'Specially now, after what I heard?"

"Amy," the ranger said, tears streaking down her face like a pair of fast-flowing rivers, "I do not know what to do or say. If I did something that angered you. ."

"Shaw, what are you afraid of?" Amy asked, truly wanting to know. "What is it that scares you so much about this?"

Shaw looked at Amy, and said, "I am afraid of being alone again. I. . I left because I am so scared of hurting any of you. ."

She broke off, crying too much to continue talking.

Amy said, "Shaw, you're not alone anymore. You know that. Everyone's worried about you. That's why we've been going ballistic trying to find you, 'cause you're one of us."

"Am I, Amy?" Shaw asked softly, looking hopeful for the first time. "Do I still have a place with you?"

"For as long as you want," Amy promised. "But you have to get that Quickening out of you."

"I have tried to fight it, Amy," Shaw said, crying very hard. "I have tried so hard. ."

"But you're losing," Amy retorted softly, placing her hands on Shaw's shoulders. "Shaw, part of being on a team. . . part of having friends, part of having family, means that you don't fight your battles alone. You let others help you fight, and sometimes. . you let them do the fighting for you."

"I. .it is, I feel like an outsider at times, Amy," Shaw said softly. "Like I am not truly one of you."

"How can you say that?" Amy asked, sincerely surprised. "You're our friend."

"But you are more than that to each other," the half-elf countered, tilting her head a bit. "You consider each other to be more than friends. When I first joined you, I thought that friendship would be enough for me, as it was in the Harpers. But now. .I find that I want more than that. I want to feel about all of you as you feel about each other, and. .to have you feel that way about me."

"It'll happen," Amy said, putting her hand under Shaw's chin and looking straight into her eyes to show her sincerity. "It just takes time."

"I know, but. . it still hurts at times. And I feel that I have not done enough to earn it."

"Shaw, part of it is that we don't know the whole you," Amy said softly. She released Shaw, and backed up a bit. She looked at the ceiling, and said, "We've seen peeks of yourself, other than a warrior or priestess, but that's all. It's like you're afraid of letting yourself open up. You have to let us in, Shaw."

"But I do not know how to do this, Amy," she said.

"That's what I can't figure," Amy asked, not understanding. "You've had family before, right? Uncles, aunts, other cousins. ."

"No, Amy, I have not!" Shaw snapped, waving her arms around. "I have never had any of those!"

"Whoa, girl," Amy said, getting a cross look onto her face. "Don't get pissy with me. Tell me, don't yell."

Shaw's face took on another guilty look, and she said, "Amy, my father was an only child. My grandfather had a brother who lived far away, I never met him. My grandparents were the only family I have ever known." Shaw then gazed at Amy, and added, "Until I learned about you."

"What about your mom's family?" the witch asked.

"Nothing, at least that I know of," she said with a shrug, "not that I would have been accepted in any case."

"Why not?" Amy asked, surprise bleeding through.

"Amy, how are children of what you term 'mixed race' treated here?" Shaw inquired, apparently changing the subject. "Those children whose parents have different skin colors, or ethnic backgrounds?"

"A lot of 'em are treated like shit," Amy said, not seeing the point.

"In this, our worlds are not so different," Shaw said, hoping to make Amy understand.

Amy's jaw opened as she got the point. "Are you sure about that? That you would have been treated that way?"

"It is commonplace, Amy," the half-elf said. "Any chance I might have had of being accepted by my elven relatives, if I even have any, vanished when my parents died on a Harper mission."

"Your parents were in that group?" Amy asked.

Shaw nodded, not seeing how Amy could not know. "I said as much two months ago, Amy. My grandparents were in the Harpers, as was. ."

Amy quickly got the point. "Your great-grandma."

"Yes," she said. "Amy, you see how those people are treated. Imagine how it is for me, not only on Toril, but here, where my mother's people are considered legends."

"I can see your point," Amy said, nodding her head to show she meant it. "But you've never had anyone besides your grandparents?"

Shaw shook her head, and said, "Only you, Amy. That is why I wanted this to be your decision. Because I am afraid of doing anything wrong, because I do not know how to do this."

"Because this is different than them," Amy said.

"And I do not know how to learn these things," Shaw added. She closed her eyes for a second, and then looked at her. "Amy, what am I supposed to do?"

"First off, be yourself," Amy said firmly. She walked up to Shaw and, standing only inches from her, told her cousin, "I don't want you to act like you think I want you to. I want to know YOU."

"Amy, I do not understand," Shaw said, shaking her head helplessly. "Please, help me to do that."

"Okay, I'll try," she said. "But first, you tell me what you want from ME. And don't give any 'I don't know,' or some stupid 'what I am capable of giving' bullshit. Tell me, right now, what you want from me, say, a couple months, hell, a couple years, down the road."

Shaw's eyes grew hooded, and she seemed to be pondering her answer. Finally, she spoke.

"I want to be accepted, Amy. For who and what I am, even if you know what I am capable of that frightens even me," she told the witch. She looked into Amy's eyes, and she said, "I want to have family again, Amy. It has been so long. ."

Amy sighed, and nodded. "I know. Shaw, I can try to help you, and maybe we can do this. We've realized what we were doing wrong, now we can try to do it right. Okay?"

Shaw didn't move, but Amy could see the desire in her eyes. "I want that, Amy. But I will not force you. ."

"Okay, first lesson," Amy said, pointing at the older woman. "Nobody forces me to do SHIT that I don't want to do. I WANT to do this, and it's about damn frickin' time we did it." Amy then smiled a bit, and added one final comment. "Got that?"

Shaw nodded, and Amy's smile vanished.

"Okay. Now, when I said details about you, this is what I mean," she said searching for an example. "Let's try this. Where you were born."

"Evereska?" Shaw asked.

"Yeah. What was it like?"

"I cannot tell you, Amy," Shaw said, hanging her head.

"Shaw, this is what I'm talking about," Amy moaned. "You won't tell me. ."

"Amy, I left Evereska when my parents died," Shaw told her, looking up at the ceiling, as if she were looking through it to the sky beyond. "I have no memories of my parents or of the city." In a soft, sad voice, she added, "I cannot tell you what I do not remember."

"Okay, my bad," Amy said, pretending to smack herself in the head. "Let's try this. Where you grew up, uh, Deepingdale?"

"Yes, but I told you this," she responded, not knowing what Amy wanted.

"I know that, Shaw," Amy pointed out. "You told me the name. But what I want to know is what it was like for you. The city, village, whatever. What was your childhood like? What was it like growing up there? Did you have friends, pets, hobbies? What you did for fun, what you wanted to do when you grew up. THAT'S the stuff I want to know about you. Your memories, your experiences. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Amy," Shaw said, her mouth trembling again. "I did not know. I want to tell you these things."

"I know, Shaw, I know," the witch assured her. "I listened to the tape. Shaw, what I know about you so far is the warrior, the priest, the Harper, that kind of stuff. What I want to know, who I need to know, is YOU. The person that you are under all the other stuff. I mean, Steve had to tell me your birthday. I know you wanted to avoid pressuring me, so I'm not angry about that."

Before Amy could continue, Shaw asked her, "Amy, there are things that I am afraid of telling you." She nearly choked, but kept on talking, to get the words out before she lost her courage. "If you want to know these things, I will tell you, but I do not want you to be afraid of me for things I have done."

"Shaw, I know," Amy said, placing her hands on the other's shoulders. Shaw flinched, but didn't retreat. <Good. I'm getting through.>

"Look. I know what happened twenty-five years ago," Amy told her, and Shaw's eyes became frightened. Amy shook her head at her. "Stop. I only know what you said to Duncan. I think I know why you allowed what happened, but what I can't get is why you feel so guilty about it. Shaw, I could hear how upset you were, but why? Why does something that happened to you make you feel so much guilt?"

Shaw lost what little self-control she had, and cried, "Because of what I did, Amy! Those people died because I did not know what to do! I. .I killed the man who killed them, but Amy. ."

"The same fuck who did it to you?"

The question was answered with a soft nod and more sobbing.

"Shaw, you said four people died," Amy said, thinking back to the tape. "How many did you save? How many?"

It took a second for Shaw to understand exactly what the teen was asking, but she muttered, "Thirty-seven."

The answer was somewhat greater than what she'd expected.

"Thirty-seven?" Amy repeated dully, and Shaw nodded as she closed her eyes, despite the tears continuing to flow. "You did this so that many people wouldn't go through that?"

"Yes, but Amy, if I only had acted sooner. ."

"Stop it," Amy said quickly. "Shaw, what happened?"

Shaw's eyes slowly opened, and Amy could see fear, anger, and old pain flowing in them.

"Amy, I. ." she started, but she shuddered, refusing to say more.

Amy sighed, more from weariness than from anger. "Shaw, you said you wanted to tell us. But I won't push you. When you're ready, you can tell me. I won't be mad at you for not telling me. Do it when you're ready, not when you feel you have to do it."

Amy backed up, and said, "But the longer you hold all that guilt in, the worse it gets. You told me you made the mistake of not saying bye to your grandparents, I'm afraid of what this'll do to you if you don't let it out."

Amy paused, looking at the half-elf, and said, "You calmed down, now?"

Shaw nodded her head, but Amy could see she was still scared, even if under control for the time being.

Amy led her back over to the weight bench, and said, "It's gonna be over this afternoon. You just gotta stay cool until we get that spell done."

A few seconds later, Shaw softly said, "Amy?"

"Yeah?" the witch replied.

"It. . it began in the first week of. .August, of. . 1973, by our calendar," she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking.

<What's she talking about?> Amy thought, before her eyes went wide as she realized what Shaw was doing. <She didn't have to. . . yeah, she did. She wants you to understand, so she's doing it.>

Amy settled down, and listened as Shaw's eyes took on a far away look, as she began to relate her tale.

*****

Mistledale
The Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (the Forgotten Realms)
9 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

Tamaran Oblashos sat at the table in his home, pondering the missives he'd received that morning. His black brows furrowed as he tried to think of a solution to the dilemma taking shape to the east, near the city of Zhentil Keep. He ran one hand through his dark brown hair as he concentrated.

<He's at it again,> the thirty-two year old bard thought hatefully. <I thought we'd have another moon to be prepared to apprehend him. Now, we're without an infiltrator that we desperately need.>

His thoughts were interrupted by the door to his home being slammed open and a loud, piercing scream like the cry of a diving falcon. He dropped the letters he'd been reading, and he turned to reach for his sword. He nearly made it before having to reach up to catch a dead partridge that had been thrown at his face. As he caught and started fumbling the wild fowl, he snarled, "Girl. . ."

His words were stopped at the sight of the tip of a longsword at his throat, the gleaming steel blade catching the light from his lantern. Tamaran led his gaze up the blade, to the hilt, to the hand clutching the sword, to the yellow-and-red tunic and cape to the hazel eyes dancing with silent laughter.

Shawukay Redarrow looked at Tamaran and with an innocent gaze and said, "The first lesson you ever taught me was to expect the unexpected. The second was to use whatever items were available to me in any given situation."

"How about the lesson on not provoking your teacher," he countered.

"There are some who would say that two out of every three is most satisfactory," was the response.

"Perhaps," the bard muttered, glaring at his student of three years. "Anyway, I don't think I meant for you to use dead game birds as missile weapons."

"It was effective, was it not?" she asked in her alto voice. With a grin, she removed the sword and placed it in the sheath at her left hip. She sat down in the other chair and leaned forward, her hands folded and her chin resting on the double fist. "I picked up some interesting rumors in the tavern yesterday, Tamaran," she began, pausing to gather her thoughts. "One I felt it prudent to verify for myself, and the Goddess be praised, it was a good thing that I did."

Tamaran dropped the partridge onto his bench, and sat back down. He took out a quill and fresh parchment, and looked at her. "Give me the unverified rumors first, so that I may start looking into them."

The half-elven woman began reciting a litany of stories, mainly involving adventuring parties, the Zhentarim, the Cult of the Dragon, and other shady groups that populated the Heartlands. After twenty minutes or so, she finished. The ranger's instructor in the ways of Those Who Harp then repeated what he'd written, making corrections and getting her own thoughts on the matters as well.

"Very well," Tamaran said approvingly. "Good work. Now, the rumor you verified?"

"The cattle killings to the south," Shawukay said, running a hand through her thick, riotous raven-colored curls. "The Riders and farmers believed it to be goblins, probably wolfriders. I decided that going alone to find out the truth might prove easier than a group of mounted warriors. This was not the work of goblins."

"Who, then?"

"It was a displacer beast," Shawukay said with a shiver. "A nasty creature."

Tamaran stopped writing. "You keep using the past tense, Shawukay."

"For the simplest reason," she said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back with a grin.

The Harper dropped the quill, and looked at her with a frown. "Do you think that was some kind of game?"

Shawukay's smile vanished as quickly as if someone might blow out a candle, and she stood, placing her hands on the table palms down, and leaning forward. The flash in her eyes made her teacher want to kick himself for forgetting that she had inherited her grandfather's legendary temper in full measure.

"The thing was killing cattle, Tamaran," she growled with words that sounded like they were coming from the mouth of a battle-hardened dwarf, rather than the twenty-eight year old half-elf. "I am not stupid. I called a dust devil, and it kept the displacer distracted long enough for me to close in and kill it. So do not think that I was anything less than completely serious about this."

Tamaran took the rebuke with good grace. Unlike Myokar, Shawukay's grandsire, who tended to carry grudges for days if not longer, she preferred to make her point and move on. The counter to this was that she was also as stubborn as the old ranger.

<Thank the Gods she has her grandmother's practicality,> the minstrel thought thankfully. <She's more open-minded than Myokar, and willing to admit when she's wrong.>

The half-elf sat back down, a small amount of ire still rumbling in her hazel pupils. She said, "There is one more thing. It is a rumor passing around amongst the Riders of Mistledale. However, it is most certainly false, so I do not think you will need to investigate it."

"Shawukay," Tamaran said, preparing to deliver a lecture on never discounting anything one heard, "give me the rumor, and I will take the steps to verify or deny it. That is not your purpose."

"But, Tamaran," she began to say, but he held up a hand.

"Now," he said in a gentle, chiding tone.

The student sighed, and she nodded. "Very well," she allowed, staring him in the eyes. As he started to sit down, she blurted out, "The Riders think you have an excellent taste in lovers."

The result was exactly what she'd hoped for; he slipped and fell to the floor with a crash. As he let out an earthy curse, Shawukay dissolved into helpless laughter, quickly burying her face in her arms on the table, shaking violently at his reaction.

Tamaran slowly rose, rubbing at his sore backside, fixing the half-elf with a glare that could melt a white dragon's icy breath. However, since she was lost in laughter, the look was pretty much wasted.

He allowed her a few moments of enjoyment, and then barked at her to be silent. He began to roll up the parchment, and said, "All right, lass. You've had your fun."

"Fun?" Shawukay asked, barely in control of her amusement. "Do you think I made this up?"

The Harper stopped rolling the parchments, and asked, "You are serious?"

"If you wish me to elaborate," she said, looking to the heavens and chewing her bottom lip as if attempting to recall a distant memory, "two-thirds of the male Riders compliment your taste in women. The other third curse you for capturing my heart before they did."

Burying his face in his hands, and not really wanting to know the answer, he asked, "And what are the women saying?"

"They are virtually unanimous in their opinions; they lament that, an I am quoting Lasellyen here, 'the finest stallion in Mistledale has been tamed by that half-elven mare.'"

Tamaran rose with a sigh, and walked over to his workbench to begin cleaning the bird. Shawukay listened to him grumbling under his breath, and decided to ask him what was wrong.

"Tamaran, this is only barracks gossip," she reminded him.

"It means we've attracted attention to ourselves," he said, waving a knife around.

"Particularly from the females," the priestess remarked, and Tamaran turned towards her. For a second, Shawukay feared he might have heard the slight disappointment in her tone.

"You think this is a good thing?" he asked in surprise.

Shawukay shrugged. "I would rather have them think we are in love than learn the truth," she said neutrally, "especially whom my grandparents are."

"Yes, they do have quite the reputation," the bard admitted, referring to the Flamingarrow family's history as both rangers and Harpers. "Still, I object to these rumors. My instincts say to correct them, but I do see the point you raise."

"Thank you," Shawukay said with a trace of sarcasm. <He objects.>

"Anyway, speaking of Myokar and Mishaya," her mentor said, picking up some rolled parchment tied with a ribbon, "this came for you."

Shawukay quickly stood up and literally ripped the paper out of his hand. She unrolled it, and with a full smile on her face, she began reading the letter.

Tamaran watched her, and the smile quickly faded as at first her face took on a pink tinge, and then a look of worry. She walked back over to her chair and sat down, apparently reading the letter a second, and perhaps a third, time. He sat back down as well, and asked, "Bad news?"

"No, Tamaran," the ranger muttered, looking at him. "Grandmother is saying things in an attempt to be subtle, but failing miserably."

"What does she say?" he asked, having a pretty good idea.

"That by the time of Third Feast NEXT year," she said, talking about the Mielikkian holiday that marked the autumn equinox, "Grandfather to meet or have news about who might be likely to be helping me bring the next generation of Flamingarrow rangers into the world.

Tamaran started laughing at her discomfort. "Well, perhaps it's time you started looking, then."

As he laughed, he failed to see Shawukay giving him a long, considering look. By the time he looked at her again, she was once again looking at the letter.

"What else does she say?"

Shawukay looked at him, with a look of uncertainty that was rare for her.

"They have accepted a mission," she stated delicately. At Tamaran's raised eyebrow, she added, reading from the note, "The Lady Cylyria has asked us to track down, and if possible, eliminate, some creature that is menacing the people of Eversult. They will stop at a couple of towns en route, but hope to complete their mission in time for us to meet in Deepingdale for Third Feast."

"Cylyria Dragonbreast herself asked for them?" Tamaran asked in awe.

Cylyria, a half-elven bard of legend, was the ruler of the city of Berdusk, which lay well west of the Dalelands on the route to Waterdeep. She was also the unofficial leader of the western branch of the Harpers. The fact that she had personally asked for Myokar and Mishaya Flamingarrow meant that the well-known tracking skills of the elderly rangers were sorely needed.

Tamaran watched the concerned look in his student's eyes, and gently asked, "Are you worried about them?"

Shawukay nodded absently, folding up the letter and putting it in her pocket.

"Grandfather is seventy-six, Tamaran. Grandmother is only four years younger. They have earned the right to rest," she said, now looking to him. "I think there could have been others they could have asked for."

"Someone younger, maybe?" the Harper bard asked with a smirk. "Like you, perhaps?"

The half-elf let out a single, sharp laugh. "The day I track as well as my grandparents will be the day Elminster gives up his pipes!"

"You are an excellent tracker, Shawukay," Tamaran said as he began to reshuffle the papers he'd been reading before she barged in.

"By your standards, perhaps," she said with a good-natured pout. She then pointed at the letters. "Now, tell me what is on that parchment that consumed your attention so much that you never heard me knocking."

Tamaran watched her for several seconds before asking, "You knocked?" When she nodded, he sighed. "A situation has come up involving a Zhentarim wizard. A slaver."

Shawukay's eyes took on a hard look at the mention of wizards. It had been against a band of Zhentarim wizards that her parents had been killed when she'd barely begun to speak. But the look was only momentary; she saw no sense in holding grudges for parents she didn't remember.

"What is wrong?" she finally asked.

The veteran Harper drew breath. "We were planning an infiltration to track his next raiding party, so that a band of Harpers could attack and bring Jazartho to justice. The obstacle we face is that this particular wizard often hires mercenaries for these raids, and we have so far been unable to place an Agent or full Harper within a mercenary group that he's selected. We finally had the names of several bands that will be in the area of the Keep, but the Gods damned wizard has moved his timetable forward by more than a month. We know when, where, and who, but we have had our infiltrators locked out of position. So, we've had to come up with a risky alternative; having someone infiltrate the slavers by posing as a local, who is to allow himself to be captured, and use some form of magic to allow the Harpers to track the caravan, awaiting a chance to attack at a good time."

"What is so difficult about finding someone?" the half-elf asked, looking confused.

"This is a farming village," Tamaran explained, running a finger along the appropriate passage of the letter. "The group wants someone that won't raise suspicion, and has experience in living in rural areas."

"Someone with a knowledge of woodcraft?" Shawukay asked in a low voice.

"Or farming, but finding someone appropriate would be almost impossible at this point."

Both of them sat there, silent, for a few moments before Shawukay stood up. Tamaran looked at her and asked, "Where are you going?"

"To the shrine," she said as if her attention were elsewhere.

<Which it probably is, when regarding the Lady of the Forest,> Tamaran thought wryly. "Is there a specific reason?"

"Yes," she answered, starting to head for the door. "But I think it would be best if I spoke with the Lady on this."

Before the bard could reply, she was out the door.

An hour later, Shawukay walked into a small group of birch trees, silently looking around in all directions to ensure that she was alone and would not be disturbed. She let her gaze linger over on patch of earth, and a dull ache rose up in her heart.

"Hello, Screecher," she said in a mournful tone, staring at the spot where, two years ago, she'd buried the hawk she'd raised from a fledgling from the time she was sixteen. A wistful smile crept onto her face as she remembered the look of open-jawed shock on Myokar's face the day she'd brought the baby raptor home after finding the mother dead from snakebite.

She turned her attention back to business, and walked over to a small, bush covered area. She moved branches aside, and sat down in front of the small pedestal adorned with a small, carved ivory figurine of the Goddess, Mielikki. A surge of emotion shot through her as she remembered the day her mentors had given her the statuette the day she had been formally accepted into the faith on her fourteenth birthday, to mark her entry into the church of the Lady of the Forest. Settling herself, she closed her eyes and began to pray to her Patron deity.

"Mother, I have a dilemma," she began, talking aloud as if the Goddess were sitting right next to her, "doubtless you know what Tamaran and I just discussed. These Harpers need someone to help them save these people from a life of slavery, and I could help them. But my first duty has to be to you. I am to meet Grandfather and Grandmother for your holiday, but if they can accept a mission, should I do the same? My heart is torn on this, Mother. Do I follow my duty to you before this, or. . .do I help these people?"

As she asked the question, Shawukay felt something inside of her mind, something at felt of. . .approval.

Her eyes snapped open, and she asked, "Is this your will, Blessed Lady?"

She felt the short, good sensation a second time, and she smiled.

"Thank you."

As Tamaran turned the spit upon which he'd placed the partridge, Shawukay walked in the cabin without comment. He watched her sit down, and pick up the letter concerning Jazartho.

"Shawukay?"

She looked at him, a determined look on her face, and asked, "When do I leave?"

He stared at her, not believing what she'd just asked him. He HAD been considering her to be the one he sent on this mission, and he couldn't understand how she'd divined it.

"How did you know I was even considering you?" he asked.

Shawukay sighed, and set the papers down. "I called to the Lady, and it is her feeling that I can put her second in this matter. She feels that I should help these villagers."

"You are supposed to meet your grandparents next month," he reminded her.

"If our missions take too long, there is always Fourth Feast, the winter solstice," she countered with a shrug. "I was looking forward to seeing them again, since I have not seen them since I came under your tutelage. But, I can help these people now, and the Lady agrees with that sentiment. I can always meet them for another day."

Tamaran watched her silently, and nodded. "Very well, Shawukay. You've given me a solution I sorely needed."

He turned to take the bird off of the fire, and said, "You leave in six days."

*****

Old Skull Inn
Shadowdale
The Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (The Forgotten Realms)
17 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

Shawukay rode up to the stable near the Old Skull, the inn that served as the main tavern in the community of Shadowdale, which lay on a direct path on trade routes between Zhentil Keep to the east, on the coast of the Moonsea, to the western Heartlands, and even further west to the Sword Coast, where lay the great city of Waterdeep. The half-elf dismounted from the roan-colored mare she'd borrowed from a Harper in Mistledale who knew of her and Tamaran, and smiled as a stableboy ran out to greet her. The boy was barefoot, and dressed in old but serviceable clothing. A bushy mop of curly red hair topped his freckled face, and gray-blue eyes took in the appearance of the late arrival.

He gave her a "tsk tsk" before speaking. "You're lucky. Only two stalls left."

"Yes, I am very lucky indeed," Shawukay agreed, handing the reins over to the stableboy. She reached into her belt pouch and said, "Take good care of her, please."

The boy's eyes went wide as she placed a gold piece in his palm, and he stammered, "Y-y-yes, Lady!"

Shawukay gave him a smile. "I am no lady. I am a warrior, nothing more."

His smile brightened at her grin to him, and he took the reins and led the horse towards the stable. Shawukay turned and headed for the door.

She walked into the inn, and winced as a multitude of conversations assaulted her sensitive hearing. Concentrating on shutting out the noise, the ranger walked over to an empty table. Sitting down, she swept her gaze across the inn, wondering if the Harper she was supposed to meet was already here, or whether he was late.

<I would not be surprised if he or she watched me enter, and will wait to see if I grow impatient,> she thought to herself. She let a small smile creep onto her face. <Not that it would take long.>

A barmaid came up to her, and the half-elf ordered an ale. As the woman went to get the drink, Shawukay looked around a second time, to see if she had missed anything on her first scan of the inn. When she had satisfied her curiosity, she relaxed a bit. The barmaid brought Shawukay her mug, and she handed over three pieces of silver. She lifted the mug to her lips, and took a long draught, savoring the feeling of the cold liquid going down her throat. She sat the mug back down, and settled in to wait for her contact. Over in the corner, a minstrel took up a harp and began to play a soft melody.

Shawukay listened with a half-interest in the song, a tale about a sorceress from another plane of existence meeting a forest warrior, and how the two had faced many battles before falling in love. The young woman tilted her head; for some reason, she felt that this particular piece of music should mean something to her. After musing over the strange thought for a while, she put it aside.

She took another drink of her ale, and watched as an elf walked into the Old Skull. With silver hair and amber eyes, he was obviously a moon elf, like Shawukay's mother. He looked around, and his gaze eventually settled on Shawukay. His face went slightly sour as he realized that she was a half-elf.

<Oh, Goddess. One of THOSE types.> she thought tiredly.

The few elves Shawukay had known in her life usually fell into one of three categories; they accepted her for what she was (a half-elf), they accepted her for who she was (a ranger and priestess); or they were bigots who decided that she was N'Tel'Quess on first sight. Most fell into the second category, and truth be told, the woman preferred it that way. But this one seemed destined to be an exception. As the moon elf walked forward, Shawukay noticed a longsword at his left hip and a wand of some sort at his right.

<A fighter/mage.> she thought in surprise. <But he is not a Bladesinger, he only carries one blade.>

The elf sat down at her table, not bothering to ask permission from her.

He sat there, watching her, and she met his gaze without any trouble.

{Tell me,} he asked in Espruar, the common Elvish tongue, {does your harp sound as bitter as always?}

What he'd said was an insulting reversal of a coded greeting amongst Harpers, substituting "bitter" for "sweet." He was subtly suggesting that she should not be here among full ranking Harpers.

<Well, two can wage this form of combat.>

{No, as I play the songhorn, in full sweet measure,} the priestess answered in full honesty; she played that class of wind instrument. {But I must know; is the spider sitting on your shoulder your familiar?}

The mage's eyes widened at the blatant insult; there was only one type of elf that would use spiders in such a fashion, and she had just insinuated that he was a Drow. As far as Shawukay thought, he'd brought it upon himself.

<I do not initiate conflicts. I terminate them.>

She sat there, staring at him with an innocent expression as if she were waiting for him to answer her question. The elf did not deign to do so.

"Aeurulieth of Leuthilspar," he answered at last, giving his name, but omitting the name of his clan. "Have you visited there often?"

The mage has just laid down another jab at her heritage; half-elves were banned from Evermeet, the island home of the elven People, let alone its capital city, where he was from. Again, Shawukay decided to return the favor with interest.

The half-elf shook her head. "I am no human city-dweller," she replied casually, extending her hand. "Shawukay Redarrow of Evereska and Deepingdale, daughter of Trocar Flamingarrow and Miyana Redstar, priestess and ranger in the service of the Lady of the Forest."

Thus, the half-elf laid down a triple insult to Aeurulieth; she'd given him the city of her birth, which indicated that she HAD been in elven cities before, although she left unmentioned that she'd left the city after her parents' deaths. She had also hinted that Evermeet was full of humans, and by giving him the names of her parents, she had recited part of her lineage after he had declined to do so. Family history was something that was taken very seriously by virtually all elves. However, beneath the insults was a stern warning.

She would tolerate his insults about her heritage, but she had put him on notice that she was a daughter of the forest in every possible sense of the word, and any derogatory remarks directed at her path and faith would put him on the receiving end of steel in very short order.

The elf's eyes had gone wide, and Shawukay had to hide a groan.

<I HATE it when people judge me by my grandparents' names!> she thought, completely frustrated. <I want to be accepted for my abilities, not because of their reputations. If I am to become a full Harper, I want to know that I truly earned it.>

The fighter-mage slowly recovered from her subtle verbal barrage, while Shawukay patiently waited, her hand still extended. He finally seemed to notice the outstretched limb, and clasped her forearm. He quickly released it, and turned to business.

"The others are waiting for us," Aeurulieth said brusquely, staring at her. "But I have my objections to this. I. . "

"Can share them with me on the journey to meet your companions," Shawukay said as she rose from her seat.

"Shawukay," the elf started to say, but she froze him with a glare.

"Two warnings, Aeurulieth of Leuthilspar," she said coldly. "One, you might know of my grandparents' reputations. Well, as far as temper and stubbornness go, I most definitely take after my grandfather. Two, save your insults as I do not give a damn in the Abyss about your opinions. Understand that the Lady approved of my coming here, and that I HAVE Her approval. As long as she is pleased with my service to her, your approval or lack of it means less than nothing to me. Remember that, and we shall tolerate each other just fine. Please note that I said 'tolerate,' not 'get along with.'"

Without waiting for his reply, Shawukay turned and walked towards the door. Aeurulieth just watched her back, and if one watched him, one could have sworn that the look of hostility he'd shown her, not for her race, but for her youth, had given way to a look resembling that of remembrance. The fighter-mage of Evermeet just sat there, until he stood up to follow her.

<She is impatient enough to instantly turn around and drag me back out by the ears,> he mused, a smile tugging at his face.

The elf quickened his pace to catch up with the new addition to his mission.

<Yes, she is most definitely Miyana's daughter.>

*****

Unknown Location
Northeast of Shadowdale
The Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (The Forgotten Realms)
18 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

As Aeurulieth and Shawukay rode through the late afternoon, they each kept their own counsel rather than continue their "discussion" from the Old Skull. The elven fighter rode a gray horse, whose color sharply contrasted with the ranger's dark-colored mare. Shawukay, after several hours of silence, decided that enough was enough, and resolved to talk to her companion, if only to hear their voices.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked, hoping that it would not provoke him.

Aeurulieth looked over at her, and nodded once.

<Such a resounding yes,> Shawukay thought to herself. "What can you tell me about the others of your group?"

The fighter-mage looked thoughtful before answering. "There will be six of us, counting yourself. You are the only priestess, but other than myself, we have two fighters, a second ranger, and a bard."

Shawukay pulled her horse up short, forcing the elf to do the same.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Other than yourself and the bard, there are no other magic-users?"

The elf shook his head.

"Can you take this slaver wizard, spell-to-spell? My magic is not suited for offense," she stated. "Especially for a spell-duel, which is likely in this situation."

At first Aeurulieth thought she was disparaging his abilities, until she added the comments about her own magical powers. He now realized she was asking a viable question out of curiosity.

"From most of our reports, I am nearly equal to Jazartho," he replied, holding no arrogance in his voice, "I also wear a ring of spell turning, which will give me an additional advantage."

Shawukay just stared at him with a neutral look before commenting.

"That is devious, sneaky and underhanded," she stated evenly. When the elf's eyes narrowed at her, she added, "But then, so am I at times."

With a quick grin, she drove her horse into a light gallop with a quick kick, leaving Aeurulieth staring at her, trying to decide whether to be complimented or insulted.

After another hour or two, the sun had set, and the two adventurers decided to set up camp for the night. After dismounting, Shawukay set about gathering firewood, using only deadfall branches in her collecting. She set up a fire circle, and prepared to start the fire when Aeurulieth asked, "Are you sure that's wise?"

Shawukay let out a sigh, and asked, "Why did you not say something before I went to all this effort?"

"You did not give me a chance to," he retorted, folding his arms.

Shawukay silently counted to twenty, and then stood up. She turned to face the elven mage, irritation radiating through her infravision.

"Aeurulieth, you seem determined to make this mission as difficult as possible for me. For whatever reason that is, I do not care. I am not in the mood for your insults, your condescension, or your Evermeet arrogance."

She moved away from the fire circle, and moved to within ten feet of her counterpart, determination etched onto her features.

"I am here, despite the fact that I have religious duties to attend to, because the Lady Mielikki allowed it. And if I were you, I would try to remember that a village full of innocent people is about to be enslaved if we do not stop the Zhentarim. These peoples' lives and freedom are at stake, and are infinitely more important to me than your discomfort at having a mere half-elf join you on this mission."

Shawukay then walked over to her horse, and pulled out a brush and began curry the mare.

"If you truly think that a campfire is not a wise idea, then simply say so, and I will heed your advice."

"I do prefer to remain unobserved," Aeurulieth said coldly.

In an equally cold voice, Shawukay answered, "So be it. I will take first watch."

Aeurulieth snarled, "Why should you get first watch?"

"Because I have evening devotions to perform, which have been delayed by your belligerence," she responded, not bothering to turn around. "I have warding spells I can cast, but they are unlikely to last through the entire night, as yours might do. I would rather have your stronger magic later, when you are somewhat rested, rather than tired and sore from hours of riding. Unless, of course, you object to my reasoning?"

The mage watched her for a few seconds, and then said, "You speak sense."

"For a half-elf?"

Aeurulieth gritted his teeth in frustration, and a soft growl escaped his lips.

Shawukay turned around and said, "That is a fair imitation of the displacer beast I killed a week ago. Do you wish to say something?"

"Yes, Shawukay," he answered angrily. "It is not your blood that is the reason that I object to your presence on this mission."

"Then what is it?" she asked, moving some curls out of her eyes.

"Your youth," he answered, waving an arm at her. "You are young, inexperienced, and barely out of childhood."

"Yes, I am, Aeurulieth," the priestess said with an agreeable tone that brought a surprised look to the elf's face. "But as Tamaran himself said, we were desperate. You needed someone with experience like mine, and I have it. I will freely admit that there were certainly more qualified Agents or full Harpers, for this role I am to play, but we lacked time. And every second we waste bickering is a second that we could be preparing for this mission. So stop belittling me, provoking me, or if you are attempting to do so, stop testing me. I am focusing on our mission from this moment forth, and I would 'suggest' that you do the same."

Shawukay then paused, and said in Elvish, {By the way, we are surrounded.}

{By who?} Aeurulieth asked, thinking she was playing games.

{Short, thin, squat humanoids,} she answered, looking around. {If you would listen. . .}

He did so, but shook his head. {I do not hear anything.}

{That is my point. No birds, no insects. They are cautious.}

Now, the elven warrior was impressed by her attention to detail, even through their argument. He asked, {What do you suggest?}

{Close your eyes for a second, and only open them one second after I cast a spell,} she answered as she reached for her longbow and quiver.

The elf nodded, and did as she was bid. {Go ahead, Shawukay.}

She waited two seconds, and shouted, "Shirak!"

Suddenly, a burst of light lit up the woods, twenty-five feet ahead of the half-elf. The radiance lit up a trio of short, scaled humanoids with tiny horns sprouting from their heads.

"Kobolds!" she shouted, loosing an arrow at the three creatures.

The shaft tore into the middle kobold's throat, and his two companions were startled, and stunned for a split second. More than long enough, in fact, for the ranger to unleash a second arrow into one of the creatures, taking it in the heart.

Aeurulieth, his eyes now open and adjusting to the visible spectrum, saw three of the creatures heading towards him. His mouth drew a grim line, and he quickly chanted a simple offensive spell. He extended his right hand, and four lines of light shot from his fingers, unerringly finding their way to a quartet of kobolds rushing at the campsite. The evil humanoids fell to the forest floor, thrashing in their death convulsions.

Shawukay loosed two more arrows at the remaining kobold in her group, missing with the first shaft, but piercing the creature's spine as he turned to retreat. Her eyes went wide at the unintentional back shot, and cursed softly. Another four creatures were heading at her, so she dropped her longbow and drew her longsword. She decided to take the fight to the kobolds, and let out a piercing battle cry, attempting to simulate the call of a hunting hawk that would have done Screecher proud. She raced forward, fire in her eyes, and the action succeeded beyond her imagination; three of the four kobolds skidding on the turf and turned tail to run for whatever lair they'd made for themselves in the woods. Shawukay quickly eliminated the last with a clean stroke that cut halfway into the monster's neck. She quickly turned around looking to check on the elf and for any more creatures that might be lurking.

She needn't have worried. Aeurulieth had cast a spell that had created a web that caught four more of the creatures, and he had quickly killed them, lest they attack when the spell faded. One creature was trying to attack the fighter-mage with a spear, but Aeurulieth drew out his sword, which lit up in licking, white flames that Shawukay recognized as faerie fire. The man quickly threw two slashes, the first breaking the kobold's spear in half, the second driving into his gut.

As the creature lay on the ground, clutching at his stomach, Aeurulieth nodded in satisfaction and started to sheathe his sword.

"What are you doing?" Shawukay demanded.

"Putting my sword away," he said simply.

Shawukay's eyes narrowed, and she stalked past the mage, to kneel beside the kobold. She looked into its eyes, and she felt a small surge of guilt. She saw the pleading look it gave her, and she pulled out a dagger and quickly drove it into his heart. As the light faded from his eyes, she got up and glared at the elf.

"I cannot believe you were just going to leave him there to die," she accused him.

"He would have been dead soon enough," the elf countered. "We need to leave, lest they gather any others of their kind to attack once again."

"That does not mean that you leave an enemy to suffer like that, Aeurulieth," Shawukay growled through gritted teeth. "You kill an enemy quickly and cleanly, no matter how much they might do differently."

She walked over to her longbow and picked it up. She looked over her shoulder at the elf, and asked, "Do you treat all of your opponents that way?"

"Of course not!" he snapped, growing furious at her question.

"Yet you make exceptions for that kobold," she said, trying to rein in her temper. "One cannot live by two sets of standards, Aeurulieth of Leuthilspar. I would suggest that you decide which you will live by."

And she quickly repacked her longbow and quiver, and walked over to her bedroll. She crawled into it, and rolled over.

"I thought you were taking first watch," he reminded her.

Without so much as turning over to look at him, she said, "You wanted it so much, you take it. You can use the time to determine why you are such a hypocrite who would let an enemy suffer like that."

Before he could shout his reply, she added, "Oh, by the way? Your swordsmanship is excellent."

He was caught off guard, and lost his steam as her compliment turned into an insult, as she added it after deriding him as if it were an afterthought. He took nearly a full minute, breathing hard while trying to regain control, before he finally calmed himself. He began searching his mind for spells to protect the campsite, while thinking with great frustration.

<Mother,> he called out silently, <I feel greater sorrow than ever that you did not survive long enough to raise this one. It would have made finding out that I have a half-sister, not to mention this mission and my life, much easier!>

*****

Voonlar
Between the Dalelands and the Moonsea
Faerun, Toril (the Forgotten Realms)
19 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

As the two elven adventurers rode into the town of Voonlar, Shawukay kept looking around, scanning the streets and people with her almond-shaped eyes. After a few seconds, Aeurulieth cleared his throat.

"Shawukay," he warned, "do not look around like that. It will only serve to attract attention."

Shawukay sat there, on her horse, looking straight forward, and Aeurulieth thought she was going to berate him for ordering her around.

{Point taken,} she muttered softly, with the most fractional of nods to show she understood. {I was simply trying to get an idea for the number of soldiers in this town. It IS controlled by the Zhentarim.}

{Yes, I know,} the elven fighter-mage replied. He also had his hood up to hide his features. Elves were rare enough in this part of Faerun, wanting nothing to do with the Zhentarim, but an elven Harper was not someone who wanted to be found out by the Black Network. {We will be staying at the Drowning Orc inn. That is where we will meet the others.}

{Understood.}

The two Harpers rode in silence the rest of the way, finally coming to the inn where Aeurulieth had told her about. From the first glance at the building from the outside, Shawukay decided she should not hope for much.

{I assume this is the worst inn in town,} she said, pretty much asking a question.

With his hood up, the half-elf didn't see him smirk. {Of course. Were you expecting better?}

{Of course,} she said, mimicking his tone, her own face curving into an evil grin, {but they chose you to meet me.}

As the mage's head snapped around, she innocently added, {Shall we stable the horses and go in?}

<I hope that I survive this introduction to the others,> Aeurulieth thought silently, praying to the Seldarine, the Elven Pantheon, for guidance and patience.

Unfortunately, they seemed not to hear him.

The pair walked into the Drowning Orc, and the loud conversations died a bit as the two of them walked in. After the most cursory of glances, the talking picked up again, and most of the patrons lost interest in the new arrivals. Shawukay looked at Aeurulieth, waiting for him to take the lead. He looked over at the man keeping the bar, and started over, with Shawukay in tow. As they walked, Shawukay kept moving her eyes from side to side, to see if anyone was watching their progress. To her satisfaction, no one seemed to be doing so.

Aeurulieth walked up to the bartender, who gave him and his companion a quick look.

"Room for you and your woman, two gold pieces for the night," the man said disinterestedly.

Aeurulieth tensed as he could almost feel Shawukay gripping at her sword, and he quickly answered, "I'm looking for someone to meet with. Name of Axeheart."

Shawukay now riveted her gaze at the elf. <Axeheart?> she repeated in her mind. <That is a dwarven name.>

Shawukay had met two dwarves in her lifetime, and she now smiled. The dwarves she'd encountered had been rather contrary to the reputation of the Earthen folk, dour and taciturn. She hoped to make it three for three.

The bartender looked at Aeurulieth, and said, "Since when do dwarves and elves get along?"

"When they have business that others would frown upon," came the mage's answer.

"Of course," the burly bald man said, nodding his head upstairs. "Third door on the right. He's expecting you."

Aeurulieth put a gold piece on the counter and turned without comment. Shawukay followed without saying anything, but she spared the barkeep a glare before following him. The two quickly headed upstairs to the proper room, and stood by the door.

Aeurulieth knocked on the door, and a gravelly, rumbling voice softly (soft being somewhat relative in the case of dwarves), "Go away. We didn't order any room service."

Aeurulieth prepared to say something, but Shawukay decided to beat him to it.

^^Go kiss a goblin, you beardless tree-hugger!^^ she snapped in Dethek, the dwarven tongue.

Aeurulieth looked at her in shock, and Shawukay could almost feel the ripple of shock from the other side of the door, as well as hear some soft feminine laughter from the room.

The door swung open, and Shawukay looked down a bit to see what she expected; a dwarf, red-haired and -bearded, standing a little over four and a half feet tall, and probably weighing closer to two hundred pounds. He glared at her, and she just gave him an innocent smile that was meant to suggest, but probably didn't, that she was completely harmless.

"Did I hear you correctly, lass?" he asked with a growl.

"Yes, sir, you did," she replied with no expression, simply waiting to see how he'd react.

The dwarf sighed, and said, "You had to pick up a fiery one, didn't you, Aeurulieth?"

"That is an understatement," the elven fighter muttered with a frown of disapproval at the ranger.

The short demihuman stepped aside to allow the pair into the room, and they entered, Shawukay first, then Aeurulieth.

Shawukay looked around, and saw three more people standing in the room, one man, a human, and two women, a human and an elf. Shawukay was surprised to see a group with such a mix, and it reinforced her opinion as to the importance of this mission, having *two* elves in Voonlar in one location.

Shawukay looked at the others, who were watching her with varying amounts of interest. Her chance to gauge their interest in her was interrupted by the dwarf speaking to her.

"Ye speak Dethek, lassie?" the short man asked her.

"Only a little," Shawukay admitted.

"Oh, come on lass, don't be modest. Speak some to me. These taller people can't seem to learn it."

"Very well," Shawukay said reluctantly. ^^Go kiss a goblin, you beardless tree-hugger.^^

"Ye already said that to me," he said crossly.

"That is the only Dwarvish that I know."

The dwarf stared at her, and then looked at the rest of the group, most of whom were chuckling at him.

"I think it says something when the only Dethek this girl knows is an insult like that," he said to the group at large.

He stuck out his hand to her, and she took it with a smile.

"Dargen Axeheart, son of Borgesh and Dharasa," he offered.

Shawukay nodded, as the dwarf was accepting her as an equal. If he hadn't, he'd have introduced himself by giving his name, followed by "of the dwarves." This usually came with the unsaid, "do you wish to make something of this?"

"Shawukay Redarrow, daughter of Trocar Flamingarrow and Miyana Redstar, priestess and ranger of Mielikki," the half-elf returned, noticing Dargen's eyes going up, but missing the looks of shock on the others' faces, save for the fiery-haired elven woman, who looked at the mage sympathetically. The others were looking at Aeurulieth in total surprise, and he gave them a look that said to keep quiet about this.

Shawukay took her hand from the dwarf's, opening and closing it once or twice to get the feeling of circulation back into it from Dargen's good-natured attempt to crush it. He turned to the others in turn, and began the introductions.

"Lass, these are the others in this mission," he said. He pointed to the human male, who was about forty years of age, with short-cut brown hair, with the slightest touches of gray at the temples. He carried a two-handed sword on his back, and a pair of daggers at his belt. "This is Qualeck Windrunner, lassie. Like you, he likes that Forest Lass with the crazy horse symbol."

<Translation, a ranger,> Shawukay thought, taking care not to grow TOO irritated at his making light of Mielikki as she noticed the unicorn pendant hanging over the man's heart. She exchanged a greeting with Qualeck, who said, "It is a pleasure, Daughter of the Lady."

Shawukay flushed a bit; she wasn't used to such titles outside of temples. Dargen turned to the female human, who Shawukay could tell was the bard by the lute she was tuning.

"Shawukay, this is Soryen Harmosk of Baldur's Gate, traveling bard at large," he said about the short brunette who looked even shorter than Shawukay. The bard wore normal fighting leathers, with a brace of throwing daggers across her chest, running from her right shoulder to her left hip. A slim, ornate-handled rapier hung at her right hip.

"Shawukay," Soryen greeted in a fine, soft soprano voice.

Finally, Dargen turned to the elven woman, who carried a longsword at one hip, and a short sword at the other. The elven woman's hair was a combination of orange and gold, and her eyes were the same shade of amber as Aeurulieth's. However, Shawukay could see something else in her eyes, something she could not identify. Standing nearly six feet tall, she was abnormally large for a human female, let alone the full-blooded moon elf she clearly was. Needless to say, it was something of a surprise to the priestess.

"And finally, Llednas Amarillis of Evermeet," he said grandly.

Shawukay's eyes widened a bit; the Amarillis clan was one of the legendary clans of the Tel'Quessir, on a par with the Moonflowers, the royal clan of Evermeet, and the Durothils, the gold-elven clan who had ruled Evermeet's Grand Council before the royal family had been chosen over six hundred years ago. That a member of this clan would be on the mainland of Faerun, let alone in the Harpers and in a Zhentarim controlled city, was shocking, to say the least.

"Lady Amarillis," Shawukay said softly, sketching a short bow. Her human grandparents might have raised the half-elf, but she had been raised in Deepingdale, where nearly half of the population was elven or half-elven. So, Shawukay had heard many of the legends of the People, even if she did take almost fully after her human heritage. "It is an honor."

"Please, call me Llednas," the elven fighter said in a husky voice. "Was it too much trouble tolerating my husband on the way here?"

Shawukay looked at her, and back at Aeurulieth, who was grimacing, as if he were waiting for her to make a smart comment.

Shawukay asked, "You are married to Aeurulieth?" When Llednas nodded, Shawukay said, "You have my sympathies."

Aeurulieth growled, and the others laughed at him, and Dargen looked at the elven mage.

"Don't be actin' that way, laddie," the dwarf admonished him. "You brought her here."

"As much as I would like to continue these introductions," Qualeck said congenially, "shouldn't we get settled into the proper rooms? We can talk of the mission later."

The others nodded assent, and began to head for their separate lodgings. Shawukay looked at Dargen, and he nodded, saying, "You go with Windrunner. Ye're stayin' with him."

"Oh, really," the half-elf said, folding her arms.

"Ye're a ranger, he's a ranger. And he's quite happily married, so ye don't have to worry about anything," Dargen added. "Now git, ye young tree lover."

Shawukay nodded, despite being somewhat reluctant, and headed out with the older ranger. As soon as the door closed, Dargen turned on Aeurulieth.

"She doesn't know, does she?" he demanded.

"No, I haven't told her."

"Why you damned..." Dargen started, but was cut off by Llednas laying a hand on his shoulder. "What?"

"He was not supposed to tell her," Llednas said softly. She backed away from him, and said, "I have seen her."

"More of yer dreams, lassie?" the dwarf asked, cocking an eyebrow, as did her husband.

"Yes, and I must tell you not to reveal their link to her, and you must tell the others this as well. This is not the time for it."

The elven lady turned to her mate and said, "Husband, there is more I must speak of this with you, in private."

Dargen took the hint, and smiled, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Llednas."

"That is a scant list, now isn’t it?" she retorted.

Dargen let out a belly-busting laugh. "Aye, that it is, lassie, that it is."

The dwarf exited the room, closing the door behind him.

The elven couple turned to each other, and Llednas asked, "So, husband, what do you think of your sister?"

Aeurulieth snarled as he began to pace, muttering, "She is impulsive, sarcastic, stubborn, and has no respect for my greater experience."

Llednas gave him a small smile. "In other words, she is much like you when you when you were at the tender age of one hundred."

"She's worse," the warrior-wizard said, waving his arms around. "She is only twenty-eight, and she is worse than I ever was. . ." He stopped, and looked at his bride. "Llednas, you know her origins?"

Llednas Amarillis sat on the bed, placing her palms together and looking at them, as if trying to concentrate. "Some of my recent dreams have featured a half-elven warrior. A warrior fighting with others against great evils. A warrior of Mielikki, although I knew not that she was a priestess, as well."

She looked at Aeurulieth, who asked, "Shawukay is this warrior?"

<He is not convinced.> she thought as she nodded with conviction. She paused to consider her answer, and finally said, "Aeurulieth, these dreams are complicated. They always have been. Occasionally, the Lord Corellon will grant me knowledge to interpret these dreams, even if that knowledge is cryptic."

"Has he given it to you this time?" the mage asked, sitting next to his the fiery-haired warrior.

"Husband, this one, your sister. . ." Llednas began softly, "she has a destiny. But the places, the things I see her battling. . . it is beyond my ability to describe. All I know for certain is this; her battles will come when she is older, perhaps twice the age she is now. Also, her weapon of choice. She does not possess it now, yet in my dreams, she wields it with a skill that even a Bladesinger might envy."

"What is it you are not saying, my love?"

Llednas didn't answer, but looked from her husband's face to the sword belted at his hip. He followed her gaze, and comprehension dawned on his face.

"Soulreaver?" he asked, surprised. "You see her wielding my sword? How is that possible?"

Llednas stood up, and shrugged as she went to look in the mirror on the wall. With haunted eyes that Aeurulieth saw in the reflection, she said, "I do not know. I see you in my dreams, as well, in the future, but carrying another sword, other blades. I can only guess that you give her this weapon. But, this leads to the third piece of information; this child, Shawukay, can NOT be told of the connection between you. Nor can Dalrania."

"WHAT?!?" Aeurulieth exploded, his face going pale with shock. "How can you ask me. . ."

Llednas turned, resolve on her angular elven face. "The Lord Corellon has spoken on this! My love, do you think that I want to deny her this knowledge? Apparently my Patron and hers, the Lady of the Forest, have been given the knowledge that this half-elf is destined for something else. I have seen her in my dreams, fighting alongside others she clearly loves. One of these is a human, a young woman not yet born, who is a wielder of magic that not even you can match. This one, she loves above all others; I believe she is human kin to Shawukay. I have seen these two, fighting together against several forms of ta'narri. . . and winning. Shawukay has a path to travel, but it must be without your guidance."

Aeurulieth studied her face for several minutes. He knew that attempting to change what she saw in her dreams could have disastrous consequences. Finally, he nodded with great sadness.

"And I am to deny my half-sister the knowledge of her destiny?" he asked.

"I can tell you this much, however little it will console you," she told him. "In time, she will come to you. Not for many years, but eventually. It is THEN that you and Dalrania will tell her who she is."

Aeurulieth pondered her statement, and sighed. "Very well, love. I will keep my silence on this."

He walked over to Llednas and kissed her fully on the lips. As they parted, he said, "I am heading downstairs. Will you join me?"

"In a few moments," she agreed. As he left the room, Llednas turned back towards the mirror, and a tear fell down her cheek. "If only I were allowed to tell you what is coming for her, Aeurulieth. But I dare not tell you, or this child's future, her destiny, will be destroyed for all time, and possibly a world far removed from ours with it. But too much depends on her facing these trials, and overcoming them, alone and in her own time. I only pray that you both will forgive me when this is over and done with."

*****

Llednas walked down to the taproom, and took a seat at the table being shared by the other Harpers. When the barmaid came over, she ordered a glass of wine, and the woman went to get her drink.

The Harpers were trading stories of their past adventures, and to Llednas' delight, Shawukay seemed to be fitting right in with the group, except perhaps, for the silent Aeurulieth. A pang of sorrow rose in the elven noble's heart, as she knew that her husband dearly wanted to tell the young ranger who she was to him.

<I am sorry, my love, but it will be some time,> She lamented. She quickly shook the gloomy thoughts out of her head. The others were enjoying themselves, so she would do the same. <With elven practicality,> she thought, a grin finally forming.

Dargen smiled to her, and she looked over at Qualeck.

"So, Qualeck," the moon elven fighter asked, "have you convinced your counterpart to spare us any of her past adventures?"

Shawukay snorted a bit. "I have not so many to speak of, Lady. . ." she stopped at the look from Llednas, and respoke. "Llednas. I have not been on that many adventures, as I have spent most of my time training with my Grandparents or Tamaran."

"Certainly, there's something, lass," Dargen said encouragingly.

"Well. . ." the half-elf said, seeming embarrassed, "there was a time on patrol in the woods. . ."

"Tell us," Soryen said in her soprano voice. "Let us hear your tale."

"Very well, Soryen. But it is not so glorious as some of your stories," Shawukay admitted.

"Enough stallin', lass," the dwarf scolded with a smile. "On with it."

Shawukay sighed. "As you wish. One day, when I was seventeen, I was on patrolling the woods a day north of my home when I came across a poacher's trap. In the trap was a bear cub."

The others waited expectantly as she paused, taking a drink of ale. She then continued, saying, "When I began to free the cub from the trap, someone objected to my doing so."

"The poacher?" Aeurulieth asked, coming to the logical conclusion.

"No, Aeurulieth," Shawukay said with a sigh. "The cub's mother."

Several sets of eyes went wide at that revelation, and Qualeck asked, "What did you do, Sister?"

With a shrug, the half-elven priestess said, "I considered my options, looked over several courses of action, and chose to do what any proper ranger or servant of the Lady with my level of experience at the time would have done in that situation."

The others looked to Qualeck, and the older ranger provided a translation.

"She ran."

The others looked back at the half-elf, who smiled.

"As if every denizen of the Abyss were after me."

Qualeck broke out into a roll of hilarity, as did Dargen and Llednas. Soryen just chuckled under her breath, while Aeurulieth looked exasperated.

The elven mage asked, "You ran from a bear?"

"A mother bear," Shawukay clarified, taking another sip from her mug. "Facing orcs or goblins with swords is one thing. But staring at a female grizzly bear standing eight feet tall on her hind legs, with five inch claws and weighing ten times my own weight, is another thing entirely."

Aeurulieth looked over at Qualeck, who smiled and raised his mug to Shawukay.

"Wisdom beyond her years," he said with a mock salute, which she returned with a grin.

"Husband, tell us some of your stories," Llednas said, taking his hand in hers. "Tell us. . . how you retrieved your sword from the ruins of Myth Drannor."

Aeurulieth looked at her, and mentally asked, //Why this story, my dear?//

Through the rapport they shared, Llednas replied, //So that Shawukay will have some sense of history of the sword when you give it to her. The Lord Corellon has forbidden you from giving her yourself, at least for now, but he did not say anything about a gift from her brother.//

The man smiled, and gave a mental thank you, and turned to the rest of the group.

"Soulreaver was created over twelve centuries ago, in Myth Drannor," he began as his eyes grew distant as he recalled what history of the blade's forging he'd learned. "It was forged and enchanted by priests of the Seldarine, and Bladesingers to be a weapon designed to fight the walking dead."

He looked at Shawukay, and said, "One thing that the Seldarine and your Goddess have in common is that we believe that the undead are the ultimate perversion of nature. That was why this sword was forged using a combination of holy magic and wizardly might, to create something that could maintain the natural balance."

Shawukay nodded, watching him with keen interest. The level of interest pleased Llednas.

<Yes, someone with a love of learning. That will also serve her well in times to come.>

"The blade was passed down, not from father to son or mother to daughter, but to warriors, priests, or fighter-mages, like myself, who dedicated themselves to ridding the world of the undead. When one wielder was ready to move on to Arvandor, or to cease fighting to raise a family, he or she would pass it on to the next person who would use the blade. However, there were limits to how effective the sword was. The stronger undead can resist its powers, but being struck more than twice often guarantees the creature's demise. But, six hundred years ago, the Army of Darkness fell on Myth Drannor, and the city fell to the baatezu. The wielder at the time, whoever he or she was, fell defending the city as the refugees fled to Evermeet through a series of magical gates."

"How did you recover the sword?" Qualeck asked. It didn't really matter, as the ranger and the others had heard the story before; in fact, Llednas had been on the journey with him. The story was completely for Shawukay's benefit, and somehow, on some unconscious level, they realized that Aeurulieth was giving something of himself to the sister who was forbidden to know about their link.

"I was part of a band of elven explorers, sent from Evermeet to see if any items belonging to the People remained to be salvaged. The party was somewhat light on warriors, as we decided to make three quarters of the party wizards and priests. And even most of the fighters were also mages or priests, as well as being warriors. It was that glut of magic that allowed us to survive the fiends for the three days we were there. It was while we were hiding from one of the patrols of lesser fiends, in an ancient temple of Sehanine Moonbow, that we found several bodies. Old bodies, human and elven, literally covered with armor, weapons, magical items. We didn't know how they could have survived being plundered for centuries, until one of the priests discovered that the temple was still consecrated. How, we still don't know, and we may never know."

Aeurulieth took a sip of his drink, and sighed. "We separated the bodies, taking off their items, while all the while attempting to discern who they were, who they had been. Most of the people, we never learned because we would have to call their spirits to identify themselves. As you know, the People frown on disturbing one's afterlife. When we found Soulreaver, I had one of the elder wizards look at it, to identify the types of magic in the blade. Imagine my surprise when I found out that he identified the blade, its history, and its powers because he had been in Myth Drannor during the last days of the siege. He had seen the man wielding this very sword," he said as he touched the hilt, "and had watched as this man eliminated ghouls, zombies, and wights by the dozens. But, unlike mortals, the undead do not have limits on their stamina. That was when we received another surprise."

Llednas took up the thread. "The wielder was none other than a member of the Amarillis clan, a distant cousin to my grandfather. The wizard knew both my grandfather and my cousin, and he knew that Aeurulieth and I had married. He charged my husband with turning the blade over to me, to determine what was to be done with it. Since I carry a vorpal weapon myself, I saw no reason why my husband should not carry Soulreaver."

Shawukay interrupted at that juncture. "La-- Llednas, if your ancestor carried this sword, I would think you would be honored to carry a weapon with such a history."

"I would have," Llednas answered with a small smile, "but as I already had a magic blade, I saw no reason why my husband should not have something similar. And he has proven to be a worthy wielder on more than one occasion."

"Meaning that he hasn't accidentally stabbed himself or one of us," Dargen added, setting the others, even Aeurulieth, into soft laughter.

"You are too short to accidentally wound, O Bearded One," Soryen said softly, to which the dwarf added, "Damn right, bard."

So, the night went, as the party talked and got to know the addition to their group, and finally they went up to bed, save for the elven couple, who sat there watching the two rangers walking upstairs, comparing notes on various methods of bringing down game.

Aeurulieth turned to Llednas and asked, "What do you think?"

"You had her completely focused on your story, love," she said firmly, taking both hands in his. "But you must still give her a story she can believe when you gift her with the blade."

"I already have one," he answered, drawing a pair of raised eyebrows. "The truth. Dalrania's blade."

Llednas watched him in shock, and said, "You continue to surprise me, husband."

"Isn't that why you married me, my love?"

"No," the fighter answered, getting up and pulling her husband with her, "it was so that no other woman would have to put up with you."

And the husband and wife walked upstairs, for one final night of peace before trodding into likely danger.

*****

Unknown location
Forest of Cormanthor
The Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (The Forgotten Realms)
21 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

Having dismounted from their horses a few hours previously, the group of six Harpers slowly picked their way through the heavy forest, along an almost hidden path that only Qualeck, Aeurulieth or Llednas could follow. Shawukay might have been able to see it, if she had ever been in this part of the Elven Court before. As it was, she brought up the rear, keeping a constant watch for any signs that they were being followed.

Eventually, the elven couple both held up their hands, and the entire party stopped. Aeurulieth cast a quick spell, and concentrated for several seconds before visibly relaxing and nodding to Llednas. She turned to the others, a smile on her face.

"All clear," she said as she began to unsaddle her horse, and the other Harpers copied her action.

Shawukay hesitated, but complied with their actions. When Llednas finished, she smacked her horse on the rump and he took off, followed quickly by the rest of the mounts, Shawukay's included. As she watched her mare head off into the forest at a slow cantor, she looked to Soryen.

"Soryen, is it not dangerous for them to be alone in the forest?" she asked the bard.

The small woman smiled at the half-elf. "They'll be all right. There aren't any predators within a mile of the cabin. Aeurulieth's magic prevents any danger to the mounts."

Shawukay nodded, and they began to go into a small clearing, where a decent sized log cabin was placed. Shawukay was not surprised that the Harpers had a refuge here, in the forest where many would be afraid to travel. It provided privacy and security from casual travelers.

The half-elf thought about her grandparents; by now, they should be in Eversult, tracking whatever prey they had been asked to locate. She felt a chill run up her spine, and she shivered.

<I wonder why that happened,> she wondered, trying to think of why she might be worried. <It is because they are older, and should be at home, worrying about great-grandchildren. . .>

A soft moan erupted from her throat, and she suddenly felt several pairs of eyes upon her. She looked up, and flushed when she saw the Harpers looking at her, probably wondering what was wrong.

It was Dargen who voiced their thoughts.

"Somethin' wrong, lass?" the fighter asked, tapping his foot along the floor. "Don't like the place? Yeah, it's made o' wood instead o' proper stone, but it's warm and cozy."

"It is not that, Dargen," Shawukay said, waving him off. "It is something private. A family matter."

The Harpers shared glances with Aeurulieth, and he asked, "Family?"

"Yes, my Grandparents," she answered, distracted enough with her own thoughts that she didn't see the relief flashing through his and Llednas' eyes. "They. . ."

She stopped, and headed for the door. "Please excuse me. I need to be alone for a bit."

She walked out of the cabin, and Aeurulieth looked at Llednas, as if asking for approval to go talk to her. She shook her head, and set her saddle down on the floor.

"I will talk with her, love," she said softly. "It might be best if you let her have some time before we discuss the mission."

The elven mage looked at Dargen, who nodded. "She'll make mistakes if her head isn't on straight."

Taking his comment as assent, the female moon elf exited the cabin, following the ranger into the woods.

Shawukay walked for several minutes, until she stopped, leaning against the trunk of a shadowtop. The firmness of the massive tree lent the priestess some relief from her anxiety. Being in contact with the forest usually gave her comfort and peace from her troubles.

A sound attracted her attention, and she whirled around, only to see Llednas coming towards her. Shawukay relaxed, but she knew her worries were plainly etched on her features.

<I never could fool anyone or hide my emotions when growing up,> she thought wryly. <And with Grandmother's perceptiveness, it was even more futile.>

Llednas came over to the half-elf, and asked, "What is concerning you, Shawukay? Is it this mission?"

Shawukay raised an eyebrow at the fighter, surprised that she thought that was what was wrong.

"No, Lad-- I must try to remember that you prefer to be called by your given name," the ranger said irritably, to which Llednas laughed. Shawukay hesitated, but said, "Just before leaving Mistledale, I received a letter from my Grandparents. They accepted a mission, at the behest of Lady Dragonbreast. But they are in their latter days, they should be allowed to enjoy the time they have left in this life."

The young woman turned away from the older one and said, "Grandmother and Grandfather want me to begin a family, with. . .someone I know. I was still trying to determine if I care about him in that manner, but this mission, and theirs. . the Lady told me to come here, and I am trying to focus on what is important, but there is much I have to think on."

"Family is important, Shawukay," Llednas said, coming up behind the half-elf and placing a hand on her right shoulder. "And they seem important to you."

"They are the only family I have," Shawukay said with a shrug, not noticing a look of pain that came to the moon elf's eyes, "and I simply want them to be safe. As I said, I believe that they have more than earned some peace."

"I understand," the fighter said softly, and she added, "But right now, you must focus on our mission. Especially the part that you will play in this. It will be up to you to make sure that we can track this caravan and attack it at a vulnerable point."

"I understand, Llednas," Shawukay said, nodding her head with confidence and turning to the other. "Thank you for talking with me."

"It was my pleasure," Llednas said with a smile as the two elven women turned to go back to the cabin.

When the two women walked in, Qualeck walked over to Shawukay, and asked, "Are you all right, Sister?"

"Yes, Qualeck," she said with a small smile. "I simply needed to think about the mission my Grandparents are on. I worry about them."

"As is only natural," Windrunner said, approval in his tone. "Come. We are going to have dinner, and then we can discuss the mission."

Shawukay nodded, and the twin rangers headed towards the table while Aeurulieth walked up to his wife, a look of inquisitiveness on his face.

"She is fine, Aeurulieth," Llednas assured him. "She was only showing the normal concern for her elders."

"Have you seen anything concerning her grandparents?" the mage asked. "It might alleviate her concerns."

To his surprise, Llednas shook her head. "I have only seen her, husband. She is the focus of the dreams, and as I said, in time she will come to you. But that is all I can truly tell."

"Very well, love," he said, drawing her into an embrace. "But we must attend to the mission. Anything else can wait for another time."

Llednas gave her husband a full smile, and leaned in to give him a passionate kiss.

"Now THAT'S a way to ignite an old dwarf's passion!" Dargen's voice called out, shocking the elves from their private moment. As they turned and gave killing glares to the dwarven fighter, he snickered. "Don't be lookin' at me like that. I'm just keepin' you from bein' a bad influence on the youngster. Now git your bony arses in here so we can eat."

He turned and went into the room that served as the Harpers' dining area, and Aeurulieth looked to Llednas.

"Shall we take up this discussion later?" he asked.

"I will hold you to that idea, Aeurulieth."

After a dinner of venison and wild poultry, with the additions of vegetables bought in Voonlar, the Harpers cleared their table and pulled out a map of the region, including the likely routes to be taken by the Zhentarim wizard and his caravan.

"Lissen up, here's the plan," Dargen said, placing mugs on the corners of the map to keep it from rolling up while he was discussing the mission. "Especially you, lassie. Your role's the one that's going to let us take out that Black Wizard."

Shawukay nodded, intently watching the map so as to memorize the paths they might take once she'd infiltrated the village.

"Now, here's the plan, based on what we learned," Axeheart said, pointing to the town of Snowmantle on the map of the Dalelands. "The wizard's gonna hit one of the little farming villages that trades with Snowmantle. The village is called Bordertown, 'cause it's on the edge of the Border Forest. Not very original, but that's humans for you."

The human members of the band rolled their eyes at the dwarf.

"Right," he said with a smart grin. "Well, anyway, what they plan on doing is takin' the villagers in wagons, and taking them along a route that takes 'em between the Border Forest and the western foothills of the Dragonspine mountains. They'll keep to the foothills as they turn along the northern edge, and with the Citadel of the Raven at their backs, head down the Zhentilar trail straight for the Keep."

"That would seem to add a large amount of time to their traveling," Shawukay pointed out.

"That's because Jazartho is cautious," Soryen said, drawing the ranger's attention. "It's almost fifty miles just between the forest and the foothills before he clears the eastern border and turns east. Another thirty miles, and they pass the Citadel and turn south onto the Zhentilar trail, but it's a clear path to Zhentil Keep. We have to find a location to attack the caravan *before* they make the Citadel's sights. Any later, and we would be outmatched, outmanned, and out magicked."

Shawukay considered the information, and nodded. "Thank you, Soryen. I understand." She looked at Aeurulieth. "May I know how you will be tracking me?"

"With this," Aeurulieth said, pulling out a small emerald. "It's enchanted with tracing spells, and I can track it up to two hundred miles. Even if you pass through a dimensional door, and are still within the tracking distance, I can find you."

Shawukay nodded and accepted the gem from him. "Was this your creation?"

When the elf nodded, she gave him a sour look.

"Now I am less confident about the outcome of this mission."

The group chuckled at her barb, although Aeurulieth did not seem to share their enjoyment.

"Shawukay," Qualeck said, getting the half-elf to look at him, "if you will come with me, we will discuss your cover identity in Bordertown."

Shawukay nodded with a grin, and they left the room, leaving Soryen and Dargen to look at the moon elven couple.

"It sure is strange, Aeurulieth," the bard whispered in her soft voice, "for someone who does not know her heritage, she truly acts like a younger sister to her older brother."

The elf glared at her for a second, but ended up chuckling. "And of course, you know this from personal experience."

"Of course."

Shawukay and Qualeck walked into his quarters inside the cabin, and he headed over to a pack that was sitting on his bed, which was surrounded by gear.

"Here is the gear you will carry, Sister," the elder worshipper of Mielikki said, pointing to the items. "You do understand, what you will have to leave behind on this mission."

"My weapons, and my bracers," the half-elf said, indicating the only magical items she possessed. "I know that I will be pretending to be a simple person, rather than an adventurer."

Qualeck looked at her, and said, "There is more. You must not let them suspect that you are a priestess. You will be leaving behind your pendant, and you will carry no magic at all."

Shawukay's eyes widened, as she realized what they were asking of her. She shook her head, her mercurial temper rising within her.

"How can you ask me to give this up?" she demanded, gripping the silver chain which held her ivory holy symbol. "She is the most important thing to me!"

"I know, but I can explain," Qualeck said patiently to the strong-willed, short-tempered woman. He sat on the clear edge of the bed, and told her, "Sister, this wizard is clever, intelligent, and always looking over his shoulder for enemies. He has to, to prevent others from gaining credit for his work. His suspicions could probably be raised if a young half-elf shows up in this village just before he raids it. You have to have no magic, or any indication of your true self, in your possession to give weight to his suspicions."

Shawukay stared at him, her arms folded, breathing furiously for nearly five minutes, as he just watched her with his blue-gray eyes.

Finally, she nodded. "I take your point, Qualeck. I simply do not enjoy it. It is not the magic; power does not mean anything to me. It is the connection to the Lady that I will miss."

"I understand, Sister. I can see it in your eyes when you talk of Her," the human said. "But, for this, you will have to be a worshipper of Tymora."

"Oh, Goddess, I wish you had not said that," Shawukay muttered.

Qualeck ignored her comment, and pointed to the gear, which Shawukay now noticed contained several animal pelts.

"Your cover is as a trapper, simply moving into the area to try her luck in the Border Forest," he explained. He picked up some traps, and said, "You will set these traps around the area, and occasionally check them."

At the dangerous look in her eyes, he sighed. "The traps are harmless, the teeth have been sawed down. Aeurulieth and Llednas objected to using functional traps as well."

"Very well," Shawukay said with a curt nod. "I would not willingly harm forest creatures for no reason."

"Of course not," Qualeck said fervently. "And some items common to trappers will be accompanying you."

"When do I leave?" Shawukay asked.

"Tomorrow morning," came his reply. "Aeurulieth will teleport yourself and him to the Border Forest, and he will then teleport back here. Once he returns, we will wait two days, and then head out after you. We will make up as much ground as we can, but with our horses, the slower caravan will not be that hard to catch."

Shawukay nodded, and said, "You do realize that I do not like the idea of divesting myself of any connection to the Lady."

"I know, Shawukay," Qualeck said as he began packing the items into the pack. "That is why I discussed it with you, because we did not want you to kill Aeurulieth for suggesting you give up your holy symbol."

"I would not have killed him," the priestess objected.

"No?"

Shawukay gave her fellow forester an evil grin. "I am not that merciful."

The rangers shared a laugh over he answer.

"It is time for rest, Shawukay. You have an early start tomorrow."

(((The half-elven warrior walked through with two elven warriors, one a fiery-haired female, the other a silver-tressed man, also a mage. The youngest of the three walked over to a young elven female, clearly a child no more than thirty winters, and drew a sword which lit up in white light.

The elven child drew a short blade of her own, and the two females started swinging, the elder quickly defeating the younger. As the girlchild looked on in surprise, the half-elf quickly began giving advice to the youngling, whose face eagerly lit up with a smile, apparently at some praise laid on her by the older woman.

The little one looked at the elven couple standing off to the side, both of them smiling at the half-elf and the child acting so friendly to each other.

The child began to say something to the female, something that sounded like....)))

Llednas exited her reverie with a jerk, shaking at the intensity of this dream. She quickly looked around, and saw Aeurulieth laying next to her, deep into reverie himself. She stroked his cheek, a smile full of love and other higher emotions on her face.

She quickly stood up, and made her way to the chamberpot, wondering why she had been feeling ill these last two weeks.

As she walked, she tried to make sense of this newest vision.

<What was it that child was trying to call me?> she thought. <And why did she seem to look like both myself and Aeuru--->

The moon elven fighter stopped in her tracks as she realized exactly who the elfgirl sparring with Shawukay was, and her mouth opened suddenly as she absently rubbed a hand over her bared stomach. Tears started to flow from her eyes as she realized what her dream had just revealed to her.

She quickly forgot the queasy feeling in her stomach, and headed back for bed, where her true love awaited her.

Shawukay stirred when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Pulling her blanket up around herself, she rolled over and up into a sitting position. Standing there in the darkness, his eyes two dots of red light, was Aeurulieth.

{It is time to go, Shawukay,} he said in the elven tongue. {Our mission begins now.}

The ranger nodded and quickly, but quietly, got up and began dressing in the buckskin leathers that had been she had brought along. After pulling on her boots, she walked over and picked up her pack, and with a look of open disgust, she picked up the string of traps and threw them over her shoulder.

Nodding to indicate that she was ready, Aeurulieth asked, "Have you ever teleported before?"

"No, Aeurulieth, I have not," she answered, shaking her head as well. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you must understand. . ."

"No, we must go," she said, interrupting the elf. "Cast your spell and let us be gone."

"Fine," the mage snapped, beginning to chant and wave his arms in arcane gestures.

Shawukay walked up and grabbed his tunic around the waist, as she knew that she had to be in contact for the spell to take her with him. A faint, white glow encompassed the pair, and suddenly Shawukay found herself in a forest, but obviously not the Elven Court woods they'd been in only seconds before, let alone the cabin; they were outside.

Shawukay started to talk, but suddenly her stomach rebelled, and she quickly moved away from Aeurulieth and over towards a stump, which she leaned over, losing her dinner from the previous night.

<As much as she had it coming, I feel sorry for her,> the warrior-wizard said, trying not to laugh at her sickness.

After a few more seconds, Shawukay turned around, and she could feel him grinning at her. She glared at him, and through his infravision, he could tell she was angry.

"I did try to warn you," he pointed out.

"Just what were you trying to warn me of?" she snapped as she threw her pack and the traps down.

"That the first time one teleports can make one sick," he replied, walking up to her. "I will leave now. Remember, in two days, we will depart. You have the emerald?"

"Here," she said, patting the hidden pocket on the inside of her tunic. "I will do my best not to lose it."

"I have no doubt, Shawukay," Aeurulieth replied. He gave her a look of concern. "Shawukay, are you sure you wish to do this?"

"What is your concern now, Aeurulieth?" the younger asked irritably. "Is it my youth? Why do you object to my being here?"

Aeurulieth sighed, and said, "It is not for me to say."

Shawukay folded her arms, and said, "Because I am right, am I not. You object to the fact that I am so young."

"There are other reasons, Shawukay, which I cannot discuss," the elf replied, trying to keep from blurting out the truth.

"Or will not," the woman retorted, turning to pick up her pack. "I swear by the Lady, you act less like a Harper than a mother worried about her cub."

She missed the expression of raw sadness that passed over Aeurulieth's face, and he almost told her at that point. The only thing that kept him from doing so was Llednas' warnings about Shawukay's path being one she would have to travel alone.

"Be careful, Shawukay," was all that he said, as he quickly cast his second teleportation spell, and vanished in a white light.

Shawukay turned around, and stood there, considering why he acted in such a manner towards her.

<It has to be my youth,> she concluded. <He said as much when we met in Shadowdale.>

Picking up the sawed-down traps, Shawukay trodded off into the early morning hours, determined to place the traps and find a place to take as shelter before the arrival of the Zhentarim.

*****

Border Forest
Southern boundaries
Northeast of the Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (the Forgotten Realms)
29 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

Shawukay walked through the forest, about an hour's travel from the village the residents called Bordertown. She'd been in the town twice since arriving, to establish that she was a trapper trying to find a few pelts to sell for money and more traps.

She'd spent one night in the pub, and she'd seen people who did not seem to be villagers, but she had not been able to determine whether or not they were Zhentarim scouts, or simply passersby. They had taken an interest in the half-breed trapper, but they had not tried anything forward.

<Better fortune for them,> Shawukay thought silently, a grin coming to her face.

A drunken Rider of Mistledale had tried to make an attempt for her affections the previous year, and the half-elf, having said "No" emphatically six times already, showed the intoxicated Rider, as well as his compatriots, that swords and daggers were not the only weapons she was capable of wielding.

<I loved the look on their faces when I picked up that chair and tripped him from behind,> she wondered, thinking back. <THEN I hit him over the head when he tried to stand up.>

She slowed down, and walked over to one of the traps. Thankfully, it was empty. Once already, one of the traps had been sprung, but to her pleasure, it had only been a hare. A simple spell for speaking with natural creatures had allowed the ranger to assure the terrified rabbit that she meant no harm, and that she was performing a mission. She also gave him some cabbage leaves she'd purchased from the village as an apology for his getting snared.

She stood up, brushing dirt off of her hands, and heard the forest around her go quiet. She quickly realized that something, or someone that was capable of scaring the animals was in immediate proximity.

She quickly drew a knife from the hilt at her waist, lamenting the fact that it was for skinning, rather than combat. She dropped her pack and pulled out the largest weapon she'd brought with her, a hatchet for cutting wood.

She looked over in one direction, and heard someone clumsily attempting to sneak up behind her from cover. The half-elf had to fight her instinct to show the person the error of his ways, and concentrated on the person approaching.

He burst out of the brush, a medium-sized human wearing leather armor and carrying a broadsword. He let out a loud yell that Shawukay assumed was meant to scare her. She quickly realized that she was supposed to pretend it had.

<Oh, of course,> she muttered in her mind.

She allowed a look of hesitancy to enter her eyes, as well as a touch of faked fright. She threateningly lifted her hatchet, and said, "These are my traps. Leave now, and we will not have to become violent."

"We're not here for traps, half-breed," the human said, a sick smile coming to his face. Shawukay saw that he was missing several front teeth, likely from a fight.

"It cannot be for food," she retorted with a smirk. "You have not the teeth for eating."

The man snarled, and said, "Take her!"

The second man came up from behind, and the half-elf had to fight her reaction to swing as she whirled around. As it was, her knife fell well short of the range as the man lifted a longsword and said, "We can do this the easy way, girlie. Your choice."

Shawukay did not have time to react as the first human suddenly threw his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side, and twisting and turning her to get her to drop her weapons. She fought with a frenzy, but she finally dropped the hatchet and knife, leaving her unarmed.

<Except for your head and feet,> a voice in her head, suspiciously like Tamaran's, sounded in her head.

<NO!> she thought, again fighting down her violent reactions. <They have to capture me! They have to be convinced.>

Finally, feigning exhaustion, Shawukay sagged in her captor's arms, panting heavily. The man holding her wasn't in much better shape.

"Hurry up and put the manacles on her," he demanded of his partner. "She fights like a she-bear, and I don't want her getting her second wind on us. We don't have time to waste."

The second man reached into a pack of his own, and drew out a pair of wrist chains. Shawukay's eyes widened a bit, and she added a second round of struggling, but kept most of her strength hidden from the two leather-clad men.

The first man released Shawukay's right arm, and she tried to throw a half-hearted punch, but the man caught her wrist and quickly locked the manacle in place. Shawukay let out a feral yell and fought harder, but it was a simple matter (due to her acting) for the two humans to place the second manacle on her remaining wrist.

"Let me go!!" the half-elf screamed as she continued to "fight" her "captors." She toned down when the toothless man held up his broadsword in

a decidedly less than friendly manner.

"This one's got fire, friend," the second man said at the look of death that the ranger's eyes promised. "And we thought this trip would be boring."

"Yeah, we did," his partner responded.

Shawukay kept "struggling" as each man took an arm, and began walking her in the direction of the town. As they fought her continued movements, she thought of the surprise the Harpers had in store for these ones.

<Yes, Zhenatrim, this trip will most definitely NOT be boring.>

*****

Bordertown
Southeastern border of the Border Forest
Northeast of the Dalelands, Faerun
Toril (the Forgotten Realms)
29 August 1973 (1344 Dale Reckoning)

The two mercenaries dragged Shawukay into the village square, the half-elf pretending to struggle futilely against the two soldiers that had put the manacles around her wrists. To her satisfaction, the hireswords seemed to be accepting her act.

A quick glance around showed a typical farming village, with little more than seven or eight buildings such as markets or a town hall. Her observations were interrupted as the mercenaries threw her into the crowd of villagers, who had been herded into the center of the small group of buildings. Shawukay fought to keep from following her instinct to roll with the impact and reach for cold steel that she was currently lacking. She succeeded, at the cost of a hard impact into the dust that sent a jarring pain into her left shoulder, which caused her to grit her teeth in pain.

A villager, a man in his early to mid-thirties, bent over to help Shawukay up. His hair was almost golden colored, and his light brown eyes held sorrow at her situation. He looked her over once and asked, "Who are you?"

"Miyana," Shawukay replied, using her mother's name for her persona. She sat up and rubbed at her shoulder, and said, "Miyana Flamingstar. Who are these humans?"

"Zhentarim," the man answered with a spit. "Slavers. Their leader is a mage, and he killed what few warriors we had here with a single fireball. I'm the only one left capable of wielding a sword with any skill." He gave the ranger a sidelong glance. "How about you, half-elf? Any talent for

swordplay?"

Shawukay snorted at him. "Sir, against a fox, there are few who can match my hatchet. And I wield a knife with an amazing amount of skill when skinning a pelt."

"Trapper?" the human asked, drawing a nod from her. He extended his hand. "Balloris Kentrana, at your service."

"Balloris," Shawukay said with a grave nod, taking his hand into her own. "They caught me completely unawares. I was checking my traps, and they ambushed me. Needless to say, it was a short battle. Nothing for the minstrels to waste their composing talents on."

Despite their situation, Balloris laughed. His mirth did not last long, however, as he looked over Shawukay's shoulder. She turned around, and saw a terrified young girl, eight to ten years of age, wearing manacles like the half-elf and human, although hers dangled from her small wrists, with a look of icy fear in her eyes. Shawukay could tell, from her hair and eye colors, that this had to be Balloris' daughter.

"Father," she asked with tangible dread, "why are these people doing this to us?"

"It will be alright, Kadali," Balloris said in soothing tones, reaching to stroke the girl's cheek. "We'll be all right. You'll see."

The girl gave her father a brave smile, reassured by his apparent confidence. As she