TSC Vol. 5

On A Clear Day You Can See Forever
 
 

             I -- Destiny's Fool

     "Go then.  There are other worlds than this."
                                        -Steven King, "The Gunslinger"
 

     The screaming.  The screaming had stopped.  I couldn't recall
exactly when, but a slight turn of my head showed me why.  The guy in
the robes was dead, his slumped body being consumed by strange
purplish flames.  That nagged at me for a moment, until I caught sight of
something lying on the ground near my feet.
     It was his mask, broken in two pieces.  That explained it.  They
always burned if their masks were removed.  I blinked, realizing for the
first time that I was lying on my back.  Gingerly I sat up, my body
informing me that it was mostly intact but moderately unhappy.  Blood
ran from a couple of cuts on my face, and my right arm was numb.  I
absently hoped it wasn't a serious injury; this place hadn't exactly
impressed me with its medical facilities.
     And I was kind of stuck here.
     Slowly, I looked around, trying to stop my thoughts from
buzzing around in my skull long enough to recall just what had
happened.  There were huge, smoking chunks of stone embedded in
the ground all around me, and off to the left a desolate ruined building
with a high central tower was silhouetted against the nearly full moon.
     Ambush.  Yeah, that was it.  Another ambush by the maniacs in
the black robes and white masks.  Two of them this time, and things
had gotten hairy.  Then I'd gotten in close against one guy, my chi bolt
against his black lightning, and ...
     And boom.  A gentle breeze rustled through the long grass,
carrying the scents of late spring like a perfume, and I had the urge to
lie down and sleep.  Once again, Ranma Saotome triumphs against the
mysterious clan of assassins that ...
     A bolt of adrenaline shot up my chest and into my muddled
brain.
     Two.  There'd been two of them; what had happened to the
second guy?
     "Boy!" a deep, resonant voice boomed out, as if to answer me.
Damn.  There was still one more, and I was sitting here in la-la land.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself into the shelter of a jutting shelf of
carved stone larger than a city bus.  The sun wasn't long down, and the
surface of the stone still held some of the day's heat.  I panted as
quietly as I could, rubbing my numb arm as I took stock of my
condition.  I was winded, a little dazed, but I could walk.
     It would be better if I could fight.
     "Boy!" the voice came again.  "Come, now!  You have
vanquished all of my brothers sent against you!  I hardly think that little
blast was enough to kill such a resilient foe!"  I leaned back against the
rock, trying to pinpoint his position from his voice.  I knew he wanted
me to answer so he could do the same.
     Tough.  If he wanted me, he was going to have to come in and
get me.
     Laughter floated up on the night breeze.
     "The time for games is over, boy!" he called, an unsettling edge
of mad humour in his voice.  "I am the last of us.  You have accounted
for all the rest of the Brotherhood who tracked you here.  And I must
commend you for your skill, boy.  I hardly expected you to last to the
end.  But perhaps things were meant to be this way."  I crouched
slightly.  There was no way he could see me from beyond the perimeter
of the rubble-strewn yard that led up to the old ruin.  And his voice
wasn't moving.  If he wanted to babble and give me time to recover,
who was I to argue?
     "Well, you see," he continued as if I'd answered him, "the
others were blind in their devotion to the Dread One.  I, however, while
a loyal servant, am a more ... pragmatic man.  And an ambitious one.
We two are alone now, beyond prying eyes, and I propose that we be
reasonable."  He stopped then, obviously waiting for an answer.  The
numbness in my arm and shoulder began to fade, to be replaced with a
hot prickling sensation.  I needed more time.  I needed to keep him
talking.
     "I'm listening," I called out.  He laughed again, a sound that
would have been unnerving on a crowded city street, never mind in the
dark of night in the middle of nowhere.
     "Excellent!" he cried.  "Let the night bear witness, then!  Ah,
you are a clever one, boy.  Just when I thought we had you, you
slipped the trap and made your way to this forsaken place.  Perhaps
you didn't think we could find you, or would follow if we could.  But
our master does not tolerate failure, boy.  To return without the key
would have meant a slow and unpleasant death."
     I blinked as his words registered.  The key?  The KEY?  This
was all about the bloody KEY?  I choked back a tide of wild laughter.
These guys had spent months hunting me and trying to kill me for a
hyperlink key that was now, as far as I could tell, useless.
     This could only happen to me.
     "Did you think that by coming here you could gain the time you
needed to master it, boy?" he went on, jovial now.  "A good plan, but
one doomed to failure.  That artifact has been sanctified in His
darkness, and will not be perverted by a fool on a futile quest to restore
that which is lost to your kind and sealed away.  You have chosen the
wrong masters to serve, my young friend.  Their blank gaze is no
reward at all.  They do not see, neither do they know.  Their time is
past.  My master, though, is generous."
     "So if you bring him the key, you'll be rich," I said sourly.
     "Money?  You disappoint me, boy," my opponent replied.  "The
dark offers all, forbidden pleasures of the flesh and the mind, power
over the lesser, any reward your mind can conceive and many you'd
never imagine in your wildest fantasies."
     "Trying to recruit me?" I asked.  I could flex my right hand
now, and though I still had little strength in my arm I was pretty sure the
injury wasn't serious.  I just needed a little more time.  Just a little more.
     "Oh, no," the man called back.  "You stole what was His, and
for that you would suffer greatly.  But if I was to return with the key,
and say you were dead, none would question me."  I started looking
for another hiding place.  He might have me pinpointed by now.  I
spotted one not far away, and crouched low.
     "So," I called out.  "I give you the key, you don't kill me.  That
it?"  As soon as I finished speaking I dashed across the broken ground,
keeping low, and slid into a shadowed nook formed by the remains of a
fence or wall.
     "Not quite that simple," the man in black replied.  "You give me
the key AND the path to escape this world, and I let you live your life
out in peace.  It seems a boring place, really, but the alternative is
death."  I felt  another bark of laughter trying to force its way past my
lips, and clenched my jaw tightly.  So, he thought I knew how to leave
this world?  Boy, was he in for a disappointment.  I was trapped here,
and if he and his friends had indeed followed me from the other Earths
then he was stuck too.
     My sudden silence seemed to anger him, because his tone took
on an ugly edge.
     "You would not have come here if there were not a way to
leave, boy," he sneered.  "I know your kind, zealots all.  You cannot
serve THEIR revival if you are trapped out of time in a backwater.  The
others would have killed you and been trapped here, secure in the
knowledge that our master's tool was in safe hands.  I, however, mean
to have my just rewards, and if I have to tear the secret of escape from
your shattered mind, then I shall do just that!  Will you accept my
generous offer, boy?"  Ha.  Fat chance.  He'd kill me anyway, once he
had what he wanted.
     And if he was linked to the key, then he could be one of them ... the
ones who'd destroyed my world.  He and his friends may have looked
human, but if they served those creatures then to me they were just as
bad as those things I'd fought before.  And I knew what to do with
creatures like that.
     No mercy.
     That was when I spotted him.  He was floating through the air
slowly, his blank face seeking the spot where I'd been hiding until just a
few moments ago.  When he spoke again, his voice came from the far
side of the yard, where it had been coming from the whole time.
     Treachery.  What a surprise.
     He'd see that I wasn't there in mere moments; if I was going to
act, it had to be now.  The element of surprise would only let me get in
one attack if I was careful, and I couldn't afford to waste it.  Of course,
I had another advantage; he wanted me alive.  NEEDED me alive,
believing that I was hiding the secret to leaving this place.
     Two small advantages were a damn sight better than none.  I
concentrated, letting my chi flow, pool, and focus.  My world narrowed
to the silently floating assassin, and I watched as he brought one hand
up, wreathed in black fire, nearly able to see the spot I'd been speaking
from. Nearly.
     Now.
     I popped up and unleashed a bolt of chi directly at him, the
sensation of power making all the small hairs on my arms stand straight
up.  It hit him square in the chest, slamming him back into a chunk of
rock with savage force.  He spun into the ground, his robes spreading
around him like the wings of a great black bird, and his enraged shrieks
were music to my ears.  I didn't stop to savour the moment, though.
As soon as he was down I was running.
     I was over the ragged stone in a low, graceful arc almost before
I could form the intention to jump.  He was struggling to his feet
already, and unleashed a bolt of black lightning at me from his knees.
     But when it struck, I was gone.  Something burned in my blood
that hadn't been there for what seemed like a long time, something hot
and urgent.  When the others like him had attacked me, I'd fought
back, but then I hadn't known what they were, or why they were after
me.  Now I did.
     And I was seriously mad.
     Balls of black fire spun out from his hands as he stood, his
featureless white mask showing nothing of the rage he must be feeling.
I soared through the air, twisting away from his attacks, the world
slowing down for me while it went red around the edges.
     Step.  Pivot.  Flip, slide, leap, spin, step step ...
     He must have realized at the last moment what I intended to do,
because he put his arms up as if surprised.  I barrelled straight in, my
hands thrust out at chest height to unleash another chi blast at point-
blank range.  He managed to deflect part of the force of the blast as
more black fire flared around his hands, but he was still thrown back by
my bolt.  Not badly hurt, though, I realized dimly as I surged forward
again.  He was already summoning another bolt before even hitting the
ground.  I needed to get to him quickly, needed to get through his
defences ...
     Then the night was lit up with a clean, white light and more
shrieks filled the air, this time not of rage but shock and pain.
Instinctively, I threw up my arm to shield my eyes, my battered sense of
self-preservation trying to make itself heard over the hot pulsing of
blood in my ears.  Fortunately, it wasn't needed.
     This attack was not directed at me.
     The robed figure hung in mid-air, trapped in the arc of flight my chi
bolt had imparted.  White bolts of light snaked around his writhing
form, making him twitch and jerk spastically.  The light threw the yard
and the building behind him into stark relief, and suddenly I knew what
it was, or had been.
     Some sort of church.  The remains of what might have been a
wall formed a broken, barely visible line under the point where my
opponent hung, pinned by those searing bolts.  I felt a feral grin pulling
at my cheeks, and didn't fight it.
     This place looked to have been abandoned for a long time, but
apparently not long enough.  Certain creatures were still unwelcome on
these grounds.
     I'd thrown the murderous bastard right into some sort of holy
barrier.
     Finally, he stopped twitching, and his body fell forward, face
first, onto the uneven ground.  The light died immediately, and I blinked
away the blue-white afterimages.  My night vision was ruined, and I
cursed as I tried to pick out the robed form in the suddenly inadequate
moonlight.  When I could, it was still unmoving.
     But he wasn't dead.  I was pretty sure of that; the others had all
burst into flame when they'd been finished.  And anyway, I had to be
sure.  I advanced cautiously, ready to dodge if he was playing possum.
     He wasn't.  There was an unpleasant smell hanging in the air as
I came close, and the sound of laboured breathing.  I reached down
and grasped his loose robes, still smoking from contact with the barrier,
and hoisted him up.  My injured shoulder twinged, but I ignored that
and my other assorted injuries.  I wanted to look this guy in the face.
     Such as it was.
     I held him off the ground, feeling an unreasoning rage build
deep inside, where the light never reached.  I fought it back, not all the
way mind you, but just far enough that I wouldn't lose control.  If this
guy could still answer questions, then he was going to.  I was owed a
few answers.
     His mask was cracked, but still somehow intact.  Looking at it,
I wondered idly how these guys could breathe, talk, and see through
the damned things.  Hell, I wondered how they could even eat.  The
masks were white and covered the entire face, making it a featureless
oval.  I couldn't even tell if this guy's eyes were open or not.  I didn't
particularly want to wait around; I wasn't in a patient mood.
     He saved me some aggravation by slowly reaching up and
trying to pry my hands from the front of his robes.  His grip was weak,
though, and he didn't get anywhere.  I could still hear his breathing as
clearly as though he wasn't wearing anything over his face, and it
sounded wet and raspy.
     "Well ... played, boy," he gasped at last.  "A masterful
strategy."  I didn't bother to tell him that I hadn't known the barrier was
there, or that my entire strategy had been to smash him into a greasy
blob.
     "I want to ask you a few questions," I said, marvelling at how
even my voice was.  "About the key.  About the thing I took it from.
About ..."  About what?  I couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts, to
find the core of my anger.  I thought about my home, my family, about
Akane lying still and pale in my arms, and all I could think of was ...
     "Why?"  I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud at first, until the
man's voice came back to me, heavy and clotted with pain.
     "Why?" he repeated.  My eyes narrowed.
     "Yeah.  Why?  My family, my friends, my fiancee ... why did they
have to die?  Why did you and your kind destroy my home?  Why do
you want this key so badly?  Why, why, WHY?"  With each 'why' I
shook him like a doll, and he clung helplessly to my hands with his own,
his skin cool and clammy.
     "Not even ... a seeker after higher purpose," he gurgled at last.
"Just a lost boy thrust into something he doesn't ... understand.  I am
disappointed."
     "Tough," I growled.  "Answer my questions."  He chuckled, a
low, not quite sane sound.
     "I think not," he hissed.  I smiled then, and I expect the
expression was quite unpleasant.  Then I took a small, slow step.
     Towards the barrier.
     His grip on my hands tightened, but not by much.  There wasn't
much fight left in him, not enough to overcome my anger.  He gurgled,
and I took another small step.  His back had to be close to the edge of
that barrier now.  I felt a surge of ... of something in the air, and an
almost subliminal hum, like from a transformer.  My new friend kicked
his feet feebly.  It appeared as if all the fight had been taken out of him.
     "Boy," he gasped.  Then, when I didn't respond, he repeated
himself.  I held him absolutely still, ignoring the strain in the muscles
across my upper back and in my arms.
     "All right," he sighed at last, his grip on my hands loosening.  "I
am beaten.  I shall tell what little I know.  Only, lean close, for my
strength fails ..."  And I nearly did.  I was nearly caught, that's how
anxious I was to hear those answers.  But I'd learned caution the hard
way, and those lessons had stuck.  As I began to incline my head
towards his, one of his thin, spidery hands jerked up to his face.
     Those masks were damned tough, a fact I knew from
experience.  But apparently, they weren't hard to remove ... if you
were the wearer.
     Not hard, no.  But invariably fatal.
     He nearly had me, but as he yanked the mask off I let go of his
robes and threw myself frantically back and away, the strange purplish
flames licking out at me with an unnerving hunger.  He tried to hold me,
to grab me as he was falling and pull me in, but I was just fast enough.
I hit the ground and rolled, feeling the unwholesome heat licking at my
exposed skin, and clambered to my feet to watch him burn.
     Even while being consumed by that unnatural fire, he managed to
stagger forward a few steps, but there was no way he was going to
catch me now.  I could make out his features through the hungry flames,
with his mask gone, and as always I was surprised at how
ORDINARY these guys looked underneath.
     "Boy."  He stood there, swaying slightly as if battered by an
unseen wind, but he didn't scream, even though the enchanted flames
were burning him alive.  The pain must have been awful, and his hands
were clenched into shaking fists, but he didn't scream.
     All the others had screamed.
     "You have bested me," he called out, his voice raw with agony
and tinged with that dark madness.  His robes burned and his exposed
skin blackened and tightened against his bones, but still he stood and
faced me.
     "Today you have won, but you will fall, boy," he went on, his
voice wavering but not breaking.  I thought he was staring at me until I
realized that his eye sockets were empty now, flames coming from
inside his skull and licking up to ignite his hair.  "As those precious to
you fell.  Because you oppose our Master, you will be dragged down
into the dark, and I will be waiting for you, boy ... and your screams ..."
He stopped, nearly fell, then threw his head back and howled into the
night sky, purple fire streaming from the gaping hole of his mouth.
     "YOU WILL SCREAM, BOY!" he shrieked merrily.  "THE
DARK WILL HAVE YOU AND YOU WILL SCREAM FOR
RELEASE AND OH, SHALL I SAVOUR YOUR SUFFERING!
THE DARK IS COMING AND IT SHALL NOT BE STOPPED,
AND OUR MASTER SHALL REIGN OVER ALL OF YOU ALL
OF YOU WILL BOW TO HIM AND SCREAM YOU WILL YOU
WILL SCREAAAAAAMMMMMM ...."  His knees buckled finally
and he collapsed, like a bundle of sticks shifting in a campfire.  I
watched him, my face impassive.  I suppose I should have been
horrified, but frankly my capacity for horror wasn't what it used to be.
     I wanted to say something, something to make him understand what
he and his kind had cost me, but I couldn't think of a damned thing.
I've never been any good at words when they were really needed.
     So I just watched him burn until there was nothing left but ash.
     Then I did speak, so softly I could barely hear myself.
     "I win," I said.

***

     The view from the bell tower was well worth the climb.  And
that was saying something, considering the shape the old, rotted
wooden ladder was in.  Still, the cool moonlight danced on the curves
of the distant river, and everything looked peaceful, like in a dream.
Well, maybe not one of my dreams, but in a normal person's dream of
peace and tranquillity.
     It was a lovely night, the kind I used to love back before ...
before.  Spring was ready to turn into summer, and the night breeze
was cool but no longer cold.  The smells of green growing things drifted
on the gentle breeze, and if I closed my eyes I could almost imagine that
all was right with the world.
     Almost.  But, if I strained, I could smell the faint tang of smoke
on that breeze, trapped in the cool damp stone of the old abbey, or
whatever it was.  Two of the robed assassins had died here tonight, and
all that remained of them was hot ash scattered on the night breeze.
     And I felt curiously empty.
     I didn't regret their deaths, or the part I'd played in them.  They
would have killed me if they could have, after all, and now I finally
knew why.  No, this emptiness was something else.
     I sighed, glancing back at the huge old bell that still hung,
somehow, in the middle of the tower.  I was seized with a sudden urge
to see if it would ring, but I didn't follow through.  After all, out here in
the middle of nowhere there was no telling what might answer its call.
That barrier outside had to be there for a reason.  Instead, I leaned
back, balanced easily on the sill of one of the open windows that
surrounded the top of the bell tower and closed my eyes, feeling the
earlier rush draining away and the ache of my injuries, minor though
they were.
     In the months since I'd left that other Nerima, I'd buried the
worst of the pain deep down, letting time form a scab over the open
wound on my soul.  There was still pain and anger, but I didn't mind
that so much.  In fact, I needed both, especially the anger, to get by.
They filled the void sometimes when nothing else would, kept me going.
And that anger had served me well tonight, given me strength when I
needed it.
     But now the fight was over, and the world was waiting for me
again.  The world, and all its frustrations.
     Some nights I lay awake and brooded until the gray light of
dawn touched the sky.  I wondered if I'd made the right decision in
leaving that other Nerima mostly, even though I'd resolved a hundred
times not to second guess that decision any more.  And even though, in
my most clear-headed moments, I was sure that staying would have
made me a shadow to my double, that staying would have been easy
and maybe even pleasant, but not what I needed, still there were the
doubts.  After all, hadn't I been given a second chance?  I'd left behind
something that was, if not my home, at least a version of it that I could
have learned to live with, and for what?  Some ill-formed quest for a
place where I could find answers to questions I hadn't even puzzled out
yet?  Yes, there were always the doubts.
     In the dark.  Always, in the dark.
     But that was only part of it.
     In the beginning, I'd had freedom.
     Learning to use the key had been an interesting experience, to
say the least.  With no idea what I was doing, I'd set out from the
Tendou dojo looking for the pathways between the worlds.  And,
rather quickly, I'd found them.
     Undoing the collar of my shirt, I fished out the key, staring at it
for a long moment before pulling the cord over my head.  I let the key
dangle, watching as it spun lazily, catching the moonlight in tiny sparks.
About as long as my middle finger, it did look kind of like a key, with a
loop at one end and a slight hook at the other.  It was carved out of
some kind of blue crystal, and was heavy for something that fit in the
palm of my hand.
     Holding my hand up, I stared at the key, summoning my chi and
focussing on the crystal.  It began to softly glow in response, glimmering
with a soft bluish light.  There were a few small sparks of black
lightning, but nowhere near as many as there had been in the beginning.
I didn't know why that was; maybe they were what had made it work.
     It wasn't working now.
     The key glowed, but it didn't move.  That was the problem.
The first time I'd done this, the key had spun at the end of its cord,
describing ever-widening circles, until it had finally stopped, pointing in
one direction.  And in that direction, as it turned out, had been the
nearest gate.
     Dowsing like this could find a gate, and when I was very close
to one of those invisible portals, the key would begin to vibrate, to
thrum against my skin like a tuning fork.  Once I was at the gate all I
had to do was summon enough chi and it would open for me.
     That had let me wander through dozens of worlds in those first
two months.  And if, at any time, I began to get that familiar restless
feeling, that vaguely unsatisfied yearning, I could always just find the
nearest gate and go to the next world.
     But not now.  Now, I was trapped.  The key hung unmoving at
the end of its cord, as it had since the day I'd entered one gate and
inexplicably woken up in a field, cold rain falling on my face.  I'd never
blacked out while crossing a link before, but then there was just so
much about this whole business that I didn't know.  I suppose I'd been
lucky up until then that I hadn't run into any major problems.
     That's the trouble with luck.  It always turns.
     Sitting in that field, I'd tried to find the nearest gate, and that
had been the first time the cold fingers of fear had settled, oh so lightly,
on the back of my neck.  Because the key didn't move then, not even
to show the gate I must have come through.  Hadn't moved then, or
since.
     Like it or not, I was stuck here.
     That had been six months ago, and at first I'd wandered
around, finding out just how boring this place was.  The towns were
small and dingy, and they had no machines to speak of beyond the odd
windmill.  I'd seen many worlds, and slowly I began to realize that all of
them had been more interesting than this one.  Not safer, necessarily,
but more interesting.
     Then the attacks had begun.
     At first I'd thought I must have offended some local lord or
something.  I mean, this guy in black robes with a weird blank mask
jumped me one night and started firing fireballs at me without so much
as a challenge.  But old habits die hard, and I came out on top.
     Then there was a second, and later a third.
     And nobody I asked knew anything about robed men with
white masks.  Well, at least now I knew why.
     But, if they'd come from another world, how had they found
me?  And why had the last one believed that I'd know how to leave?
What had he said?
     (You would not have come here if there were not a way to
leave, boy)
     Like I'd come here on purpose.
     (I know your kind, zealots all.  You cannot serve THEIR
revival if you are trapped out of time in a backwater)
     I hadn't understood much of the rest of it, but then he'd been at
least a little crazy.  Hell, maybe that was why he'd gotten the job.
     That thought led to a darker one.  He'd spoken of a master,
someone he served.  Was there someone out there, somewhere, who'd
given the order to attack and destroy my home?  I'd thought the one-
eyed monstrosity that I'd taken the key from was in charge of the
invasion, but when that nice shiny sphere had detonated inside of old
One-Eye, I was confident that he'd ceased to be anyone's master, dark
or otherwise.  But someone had sent those maniacs after me, looking
for that key.  And if he was the one responsible for what had happened
to my home, then he wouldn't survive long after I caught up to him.
     I forced my hands to unclench slowly, and hung the useless key
once more around my neck, dropping its cool weight inside my black
shirt to hang against my chest.  Thoughts like those weren't helpful.
After all, even if such a person (or creature) existed, I had no way to
find him, and no way to reach him.
     If he even existed.
     Hopelessness tried to fill the void, and I fought it back out of
sheer stubbornness.  I'd felt sorry for myself on enough occasions to
know just how seductive it could be.  I'd beaten the men who had
wanted to kill me, and denied them their prize.  Maybe Akane and the
others could rest a little easier because of that.
     Yeah.  I was still alive, and the bad guys were dust.  That had to
count for something.  I leaned back against the cool stone and stared
down at the area surrounding the main building.  The ground was
uneven and filled with chunks of stone from what might have been
outbuildings.  From here, I could see the worn remains of the wall
which had once surrounded the abbey itself, and which marked the
boundary of the barrier which had reacted so badly to my robed
opponent.  I, on the other hand, had crossed it with no problem.
     Magic.  Old magic, but still workable.  Maybe there would be
something interesting about this place after all.
     If there was, I'd find it.  After all, I had nothing but time.
     A shooting star arced across the wide night sky just then, and I
thought briefly about wishing on it, but in the end I didn't.
     Kid's stuff.  And such things had lost their charm for me.
Maybe forever.

***

     I slept in the main part of the abbey that night.  My dreams
were unsettled, but I didn't wake up screaming, which was an
improvement.  I still did that on occasion, but the nightmares were
beginning to fade with time.  I felt vaguely guilty about that, somehow,
at the same time as I felt relief.  Weird.
     The dreams I did have that night were very strange, or at least they
seemed that way at the time, but they evaporated when I woke up, and
I couldn't recall anything of them.  Maybe the abbey was haunted.
That thought didn't seem as strange to me as it might once have.  I'd
seen far stranger things, after all.
     But if it was haunted, I didn't see any ghosts, and no harm
came to me.  Hell, the barrier had kept that bastard out and let me in.
That told me all I needed to know.
     The place was pretty much a wreck inside, full of dust and rock
and vines.  It was pretty clear that nobody had been here in many,
many years.  Still, I felt obliged to show a little appreciation to the
protection that had been granted me.  I went outside and picked some
fresh flowers.  It didn't take long; it was spring and they grew wild and
numerous around the overgrown grounds.  Then I came in and took a
small flask of sake from the pack I'd retrieved the previous night.
     I left both on the remains of what might have been an altar at
the front of the main room.  The large, high ceilinged chamber was
otherwise empty except for rubble, so that seemed like as good a place
as any.  Then I bowed my head, clapped my hands once, and thanked
whatever spirits might be there for their protection.  I'd never been a
particularly spiritual person, but I figured it couldn't hurt.  It had been
long enough since I'd felt safe somewhere that I was moved to be
grateful.
     I finished and turned from the altar, only to be brought up short
by a loud, resonant tone that thundered through the still morning air.  It
reverberated through me, and I nearly leapt out of my skin before I
realized what it had been.
     The bell.  The old bell in the bell tower.  I waited, but the sound
was not repeated, simply dying away into nothing.  A small smile
quirked at the corner of my mouth.
     "You're welcome," I said softly.  Then I grabbed my small
pack and left, stepping out into the warm spring sunshine, feeling
strangely light.
     So nice to know that when the whole world seems to be
against you, and when you least expect it, you might still find a safe
harbour.

***

     I walked.
     That was pretty much the only way to get around here.  Well,
there were horses, but I wasn't really fond of them.  Not to mention
that they were expensive, and I didn't have much money.
     But that was fine by me.  I'd done a lot of walking in my time,
and I was used to it.  I walked wherever the wind took me, never
bothering to stay in any one place for very long, and that suited me fine
too.  It looked like my robed friend had been telling the truth about
being the last of the assassins; the last attack had come with the end of
spring, and now summer was in full swing.
     The old abbey was far behind me, and the future, whatever it
might be, was ahead.  And here I was, somewhere in the middle,
listening to the drowsy drone of cicadas in the heat of the summer sun,
trudging along a dusty road with my head down.
     When you don't know where you're going, there's no
particular hurry to get there.  This was something I'd discovered at
some point along the way, and if it wasn't particularly profound it was
at least true.  My shirt was slung over my shoulder, rolled up under the
strap of my pack, and sweat ran freely down my neck and arms.  I
wore a bandanna around my forehead to keep the sweat out of my
eyes.
     I'd smiled wryly when I'd pulled it out.  It was one of Ryouga's
trademark black and yellow bandannas, the one he'd given me when
I'd left to go on this journey.  His lucky bandanna, he'd called it.
Almost with a straight face, too.  I reached up and touched the fabric,
feeling a momentary pang, then let my hand drop.  This was no time for
wallowing in the past.  I was stuck here, and I was just going to have to
make the best of that fact.  After all, even without the key, I had an
entire world to wander in.  Surely that should be enough for anyone.
     If only this world wasn't so bloody BORING.
     I hadn't seen anyone for days.  The road was narrow and not
particularly well-kept, and I was beginning to wonder if it actually went
anywhere.  Well, if it didn't, then I'd just turn around and go back.  It
wasn't like I had someplace to be.
     When the sun was at it hottest I stopped for some lunch,
sprawling under the spreading shade of a handy tree.  I gnawed wearily
on a piece of dried meat and washed it down with some warm water
from a waterskin, with some berries for dessert.  I'd need to refill the
waterskin soon, and the dried meat was almost gone.  All I had left
besides that was a small flask of cheap wine and some dried nuts.
     I pulled out the wine and hefted it in the palm of my hand.  I'd
never understood why Pop and Mr. Tendou had liked to drink so
much, but these days I usually had some spirits of the liquid kind riding
along in my pack.  There were nights when I couldn't sleep, and it
helped to have something.  I knew it was a crutch, of course, and that
was the worst part.  Getting drunk and maudlin didn't really help
anything, but it got me through some rough nights, and so despite my
best intentions I couldn't bring myself to throw the flask away.
     But it was for sleepless nights when my ghosts wouldn't rest,
not for hot afternoons.  I stuffed it back in the pack with the rest of my
meagre rations and spare clothes.  If I didn't find a town soon, I'd be
reduced to eating roots and berries and whatever game I could catch,
and not for the first time either.
     Sighing, I lay back on the soft cool grass under my sheltering
tree and relaxed.  There was no reason to go walking in the heat of the
day, after all.  I closed my eyes, listening to the noisy whining of the
damned cicadas and the occasional flutter of birdsong, and somewhere
along the way I managed to fall asleep.
     When I woke up from my nap, the sun was well past its highest
point, the shadows beginning to lengthen.  I stretched and sat up, a little
surprised that I'd managed to fall asleep, and gratified that my sleep had
been dreamless.  It was still hot, but I felt refreshed and decided to
press on, maybe find someplace to shelter for the night.
     When I returned to the road, I saw a steep wall of steely clouds
in the distance, the westering sun picking out highlights along their
flanks.  The bottoms were dark, and I thought I could see the flicker of
heat lightning within the distant storm.  Rain tonight, maybe.  But maybe
not; it was the weather for it, but I'd seen similar clouds several days
running and had yet to be rained on.
     It would be nice to have some rain, of course, to cool
everything down.  But if I didn't find shelter, I'd be a cool girl.  That
thought didn't bother me the way it once would have, though.  In fact,
I'd taken to treating my stints as a girl as sort of a vacation from my life.
In girl form, I was always Ranko Saotome, a wandering fighter with no
past.  All right, maybe it was a little schizo, but like the wine this too
helped sometimes, even if it wasn't necessarily healthy.  And if it
reminded me of how different I was from how I had been, well, what
about it?  Part of the reason I'd set out on my own was to find myself,
to find out what I was now.
     I eyed the clouds again through the summer haze, and guessed
that I wouldn't be Ranko tonight.  The storm would pass me by.
     As it turned out, I was right.  The storm never did materialize.
     But something much stranger did.

***

     The cicadas had given way to crickets as the shimmering ball of
the sun finally disappeared entirely below the horizon.  The forest was
dense here, high and close to the road, and I didn't see a good place to
stop for the night.  My earlier nap had left me refreshed, though, and I
decided to keep going for a while.  There was enough light from the
moon and stars to navigate by easily.
     I was distracted, brooding a little if the truth be told, as I
approached a curve in the narrow road.  It took me some time to
realize that a low-lying mist had appeared among the closely packed
trees on either side of the road.  I stopped as I realized that it was
drifting across the road, hugging the ground, extending gauzy fingers
around my feet.
     Something was ... not right.  I just had a sense of it, and it
wasn't only the strange mist.  The crickets had stopped.  There was no
birdsong, either, no rustling of small animals in the woods.  Even the
gentle breeze that had sprung up after sunset was now still.  I stood
there, senses questing outwards, but no obvious danger presented itself.
The sensation of wrongness didn't go away, though.
     The night had been fairly bright, with the moon past three-
quarters full and the sky clear.  The mist, though, seemed to give off its
own faint luminescence, making it look even more eerie.  I felt the side
of my mouth twist up in a half smile as I stood there.
     May as well go on, I thought wryly.  After all, what have I got
to lose?
     So I started walking again, the thickening mist eddying like
intangible water around my ankles, then my shins, my knees.  I rounded
the curve and saw that the mist thinned out a bit ahead.  The road
dipped slightly, and not too far ahead I could see a crossroads.  The
trees pulled back from it, leaving it isolated in a sea of low lying mists
which didn't quite obscure the roads themselves.
     As I walked, a snatch of drunken conversation came back to
me, something I'd heard in a tavern not long before my final
confrontation with the robed assassins.  One man had been talking to
another, in a hoarse whisper that somehow managed to be as loud as
normal speech, at a table behind me.
     "They buried him face down, like," he'd said, sounding half-
horrified and half fascinated.  "In an unmarked crossroads, they buried
him."
     "Whu' fer?" his drinking partner had asked suspiciously.
     "So he wouldn't come back, my son.  So he wouldn't come
back."
     I wondered if that was a problem they had in this world, people
coming back after they'd been buried.  But goose pimples broke out
along my bare arms in spite of the night's warmth.  It was easy to laugh
about some superstitious rube in a nice crowded tavern, but here I was
in the dark, a strange fog all around, looking at just such an unmarked
crossroads.  And something deep in my brain was screaming at me that
there was a bad, bad WRONGNESS here.
     Spooky.  Akane would have hated it.  She'd always hated
ghost stories and the like.
     As if just thinking her name was some sort of talisman, I started
forward down the hill.  Stupid, I told myself.  It's just a crossroads in
the middle of nowhere, nothing to be afraid of.  How can you have
fought all those robed lunatics and still get the heebie-jeebies about a
little fog?
     As I walked, I kept sweeping the fog warily.  The sensation of
wrongness didn't get stronger, but it didn't fade either.  I trusted my
instincts, but they didn't seem to know what they wanted to tell me.  I
was loose, ready for action.
     That's when I saw him.
     The mists eddied around the point where the roads met, and
when they cleared I could see a cloaked figure standing there, arms
crossed, hooded face obscured by shadows.
     Waiting.
     Waiting for me.
     Of this I had no doubt.  For a moment, I was certain that he was
another of the robed Brotherhood of the Flaming Mask, but as I moved
steadily closer I knew that wasn't right.  His cloak was drab brown, not
black.  And in the shadows of his hood I could see a glimpse of his jaw
as he waited silently.
     My footsteps were oddly muffled, and a quick glance at the sky
caused a chill to run down my back.  The night had been clear, but now
I could see no stars, no moon.  Only darkness.
     The anger, never too far beneath the surface, began to roil and
churn, and I welcomed it.  Whoever you are, pal, I thought grimly, if
you're looking for trouble you're gonna find it.  And if someone buried
you face down in that crossroads, and now you're looking for
directions so you can go home, you're gonna be sorely disappointed.
     The anger.  I'd missed its intensity.  I hadn't felt it this strongly
since the last of the masked men had died, and I knew at that moment
that I'd been somehow lost without it.  If I let it out, if I gave it free
reign, then maybe my nights would be more peaceful, maybe the doubts
would lose their strength.  Maybe.  Because, even now, when I was
fighting it all went away.  When I was fighting, I just WAS.
     This guy was about to find that out.  I came closer, walking
slowly but confidently, not stopping until I was only a couple of arm's
lengths away.
     Then he spoke, and the anger was slashed neatly down the
middle by confusion and shock.
     "Hello, Ranma Saotome," the man said, his face still mostly
hidden by the shadowed depths of his hood.  "I have been waiting for
you."
     He knew my name.  That fact registered first, but another one
came in a close second.
     His voice.  There was something familiar about his voice.
Something, and it set my heart to racing.  What?  What was it?
     "Who are you?" I asked, my mouth painfully dry.  I was dimly
aware that I had lost the initiative in an instant.  If, in fact, I'd ever truly
had it.  He just chuckled.
     "I?  I am a wanderer, like yourself," he said softly, and again
something chimed in my chest, almost painfully, at the sound of his
voice.  How do I know you? I screamed silently.  How?
     "What do you want?"  That hadn't been the question I'd
wanted to ask.  I could see his mouth twist into a grin.
     "Oh, I want to speak of many things," he told me.  "For you
have come to a crossroads, and Destiny hovers in the wings, ever
watchful.  Will you be Destiny's master, Ranma Saotome, or Her fool?"
I stood facing him, sweat trickling freely down my back, poised to
attack.  My senses screamed at me, warning of the wrongness all
around.  Wrong didn't necessarily mean dangerous, but all things
considered, I wasn't particularly inclined to give anybody the benefit of
the doubt.
     "How about we talk about it face to face?" I asked, eyes
narrowed.  He just stood there, half a grin visible under the shadows of
his hood.  I had a feeling it wasn't a very friendly expression.
     "You wish to see my face, young man?" he asked.  "Impress me."
His voice was mild, but with a contemptuous undertone, and that was
all it took.  I sprang forward, grabbing the cloak and pulling it free in
one smooth motion.  It arced up in a swirl of heavy fabric, rustling as it
settled slowly to the mist-shrouded ground.
     He was gone.
     "Hardly impressive," a low voice said in my ear.  I jumped and
whirled, unable to believe he'd gotten behind me so quickly.  "Can you
really have beaten all of the Brotherhood's men who sought you here?"
He stood behind me, stance loose and non-threatening, and I could
only stare.  If he'd chosen that moment to attack, I wouldn't even have
been able to move.
     Because now I could see his face.  And even though I'd never
seen that particular aloof expression on it before, there was no
mistaking who it was I'd met at this haunted crossroads, on a world far
from home.
     "Doc?" I whispered.  He cocked his head, the diffuse light gleaming
on his round glasses, and raised one eyebrow.  It WAS him.  Doctor
Tofu.  Impossible as it seemed, it was him.
     Wasn't it?
     "Ah," he said, an arrogant smile playing at his mouth.  "You
recognize my face.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I?  After
all, I knew a man with your seeming once, a long time ago.  And these
patterns do tend to recur again and again, sometimes distorted but still
recognizable.  It is the way of things, after all."  I just stared at him, no
clue what he was talking about.
     "Doc?" I repeated dumbly.  Idly, he reached up to adjust his
glasses, a gesture that was heartbreakingly familiar.  But the moment
passed, and he gazed at me, no sweat marring his face even though the
night was still warm.
     "No," he said flatly.  "Not 'Doc'.  We have never met, you and
I, not before this.  But I know something of you, Ranma Saotome.
You see, I have been watching you."  I was starting to shake off the
shock, starting to register what he was saying.
     "You," I said slowly.  "You're a Doctor Tofu from this world."
He cocked his head again, and spread his hands slightly.
     "A fair guess," he said dryly.  "But wrong.  I am from a world
far from this forgotten place.  And you may call me Baahnid."  I stared
at him.  Baahnid, huh?  Well, he moved like the doc, but he didn't act
like him.  And just because he looked like someone I trusted didn't
mean I should trust HIM.
     Then more of what he'd said sank in.
     "You've been watching me?" I asked suspiciously.  "For how
long?  Since I got here?"  His mocking smile widened.
     "Oh, since before that, youngster," he said.  "You drew my
attention before you arrived here, and the attention of the Brotherhood
as well, in your ignorance.  On the other hand, you've done remarkably
well for someone who has had to discover the secret ways as he has
gone along."
     "Gee, thanks," I said acidly.  He bowed, also mockingly.  I got
the idea mockery was a big part of his repertoire.
     "You have made serious mistakes, boy," he said, a dark edge
creeping into his voice, "but you have survived them and persevered.  I
doubt many could have accomplished the same, in your position.  And
so you have drawn my interest."  I watched him carefully.
     "Lucky me," I sneered.  I was beginning to really dislike this
guy.  Maybe it was the disappointment of coming so close to a piece of
home, only to have it snatched away.  At any rate, my nerves were still
on edge.
     "Yes," he said, "lucky you."  Either he missed the sarcasm or,
more likely, chose to ignore it.  "Because, you see, you just may be
worthy."  He met my gaze and smiled, a thin, hard-edged expression
that didn't reach his eyes.  They remained cold and watchful.
     Yeah.  This guy was about as far from my Doc Tofu as it was
possible to get.
     "Worthy?" I asked.  This was strange.  He didn't seem to want
to fight me, but he didn't seem anxious to tell me anything either.  "Of
what?"
     "My aid," he said simply.  I snorted.
     "I don't need your help," I told him with a glare.  "I've been
doing fine on my own."
     "Fine?  Fine is pushing it, young Ranma," he replied coolly.
"Adequate, perhaps.  You survived the Brotherhood's attempts to kill
you and reclaim the key, but now what?  Will you be satisfied with life
in a backwater, Ranma Saotome?  Do the fires in your heart truly burn
so weakly?  After all, a haven can become a prison ... for a man who
loses his way."
     "You talk like I have a choice," I snapped back.  "I'm stuck
here."  He smiled then, another in his seemingly endless supply of
unpleasant expressions.
     "Look around you, boy," he said softly.  "Do you not see?
Destiny, that fickle and faithless bitch goddess, has put us in each
other's path.  Tonight, here, you stand at a true crossroads, the nexus
of possibilities.  Any man might become Destiny's master, or Her fool,
but few recognize the moment of truth when it comes."  I shifted my
weight automatically as he moved, always maintaining my guard and
keeping at least two avenues of attack ready without being obvious
about it.  I was beginning to become curious in spite of myself, but I
wasn't ready to trust this guy yet.
     "So what decision do I have to make, then?" I asked warily,
watching him.  He craned his head back to stare up at the perfectly
black sky for a long, drawn out moment.  When he brought his gaze
back down to mine, all traces of mockery were gone.  His eyes were
flat, cold, and strangely deep.  It was like there was something not
human behind those eyes, something old and alien.
     "Not only you, Ranma Saotome," he said, his voice low and
soft but with an edge that made me want to shudder.  "We both stand
at the brink this night.  I, however, have been here before.  I have
walked the razor's edge and dared the cold, uncaring winds of chaos
and the hunger of the dark.  And while I have survived, many others
have not."
     "I'm not afraid, if that's what you're getting at," I said, my chin
coming up slightly.  I projected confidence, even though I wasn't sure
what I was being confident about.  He stared at me for what seemed
like a very long time, and at last his mouth quirked up in a tiny smile
that, unlike all the others I'd seen on his face, seemed genuine.
     "Oh, I believe you," he said, his voice like a gust of wind over
barren desert.  "Else I would not have decided as I have."  He turned
for a moment, staring off into the darkness as if searching for some
distant landmark.  Then he turned back to me, and suddenly it felt like
the air itself was charged with electricity.  I thought for a second that the
storm from earlier had changed direction again, and lightning was
striking nearby.  But there was no storm, no lightning in the starless sky.
Just us and, if Baahnid was to be believed, Destiny, all standing
together at a deserted crossroads, trying to find our way with neither
signs nor map.
     "What the hell," I breathed, "is that?"  It was hard to draw a
breath, and my skin prickled with the nearness of power.  Baahnid
smiled again, his dark eyes shadowed and obscure.
     "That is the presence of choice," he murmured.  "The power of
free will.  Pity that most never realize how exhilarating it is.  But my
choice is made, Ranma Saotome, and so you must now make yours."  I
fought not to tremble as adrenaline flooded my body.  I swallowed
once, again, my dry throat clicking uselessly.
     "Tell me," I managed at last.  He nodded as if he'd expected
no less.
     "I know many secrets, young man.  Many secrets, things lost to
the winds of time and history, things forgotten or buried or hidden
away.  I know, for example, that the key you bear is useless here
because there are no gates in this place for it to find.  I know what that
key is, where it comes from, and what it truly unlocks.  I know what
master the Brotherhood serve.  I know the stakes of the war which
rages now, all around us, fought in shadows.
     "And I know the way to escape this place."  That invisible
electricity seemed to twist and tighten between us as we faced each
other, and the urge to do something was building in me like battle lust.
Do something, yes, but what?  I didn't understand this, but I felt like the
ground under my feet was fragile, treacherous, shifting like loose shale.
My chest was tight, but somehow I drew a shaky breath.
     "And you'll tell me?" I asked.  He laughed, a harsh, grating
sound.
     "If you prove yourself worthy," he answered, his cold eyes
burning now, battering me with the force of a winter gale.  "Only then
will I share any of my secrets with you."  I nodded.  If he really knew
what he claimed, he wouldn't just give the information away, would he?
He'd want something in return.
     "How?" I asked simply.
     "I will wait," he replied, the planes of his face shadowed by the
luminescent mist.  "Somewhere on this world, there is a haunted place,
a shunned place.  It is known by many names by those who still speak
of its existence, but most commonly it is called the Wastelands.  And
deep in the Wastelands, forgotten by all but a very few, stands a city.
It had a name once, but that too is lost to the ages.  When it is referred
to at all, it is called the City of the Dead."  His eyes were locked on
mine, and we might have been the only two people alive in the entire
world just then.
     "From the centre of that desolate metropolis rises a tower, a
black monolith that kisses the clouds themselves.  I will await you there,
Ranma Saotome.  I will await you there, hoarding my secrets, and if
you win through, then you will have earned the right to share them, and
you will find the path to freedom."  Something like a shock arced down
my spine, flashing out along my nerves in an almost liquid surge of
molten power, and then the tension snapped and I could breathe again.
I stared into his eyes, this stranger who looked like Tofu Ono but was
nothing like that warm and compassionate man, and knew that I'd
made my choice.  It hadn't been conscious, that decision, but it was
made nonetheless.
     "You call that a choice?" I asked, a savage grin fighting to
surface on my face.  I held it back as best I could, but some trace of it
still broke through.  He shook his head, slowly, first one way, then the
other.
     "It sounds like an adventure, does it not?" he asked quietly, still
without a trace of that arrogance which had seemed so much a part of
him before.  "You are so young.  Let me tell you this, Ranma Saotome.
You think your choice is made, but this is not the end of it.  The path is
long and arduous, and many pitfalls await you."
     "It'll take a lot to stop me, pal," I told him, striking my open
palm with my other fist.  A trace of a sneer returned to his face, and he
snorted.
     "Fighting?" he asked contemptuously.  "Combat is the least of
what you will face, foolish boy.  Your heart burns now, today, but
young hearts often burn hot and fierce, but not long.  There will be
times when you will wonder if you dreamt all of this.  There will be
times when you wonder whether I told you the truth.  You may find
comfort or safety or refuge, perhaps even love, and be seduced off the
path, trading the softer pleasures of friendship and family for the
uncertain rewards of your quest.
     "And even if you finally find that which you've searched for, the
Wastelands are a formidable barrier.  And your ghosts, uneasy as they
may be, will be stirred should you dare enter the City of the Dead.
You will face the fire, and whether you be tempered or shattered is not
certain, not even to me.  Others have been offered this path, not many
but a few over the centuries."  I blinked.
     Centuries?
     "And how many of them made it?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't
like the answer.  He smiled, that sharp, cutting smile.
     "None," he said.  "None have won through, although not all
died.  No, some just lost the way, chose comfort and family over lonely
crusade.  But they all started out certain, as you are certain.  And I,
who hoard my hard-won secrets jealously, would not waste them on
one who is not worthy."  The mists at his feet started to churn, rising to
shroud his legs, then his hips.  He smiled and tilted his head, a small
acknowledgement, and I knew our meeting was nearly over.
     "Wait!" I shouted.  "I ... where do I start?"
     "Why, here, of course," he said simply.  I blinked.
     "But how do I find these Wastelands?  Where do I start looking?"
He laughed then, and it was almost like the doc's laugh, with just a faint
tinge of darkness in it.
     "The test," he told me, "begins now.  I will wait, no matter how
many years it takes, Ranma Saotome.  If you falter and abandon your
quest, I will know.  If you die, I will know."  The mists rose up in a
wall, and I lunged forward, trying to grab hold.  There was nothing but
mist, though, and it slipped through my fingers and dissipated in the
warm night air.
     "But ... they could be ANYWHERE!" I howled.  Faint laughter
mocked me, drifting lazily on the gentle breeze.  I stood at the centre of
the crossroads, watching as the strange mist seemed to drain away into
the depths of the woods, disappearing as quickly as it had come.  With
a start, I realized that the crickets had started up again, and a quick
glance upwards showed that the stars and the moon were once again in
their accustomed places.  Slowly, I walked over and picked up my
pack from where I had dropped it, slinging it over my shoulder by its
single canvas strap.  Then I stood a moment at the centre of that
crossroads, swivelling to face each road in turn.  They all stretched out
into the darkness, and their secrets could not be fathomed except by
travelling them.
     But which one?  Which one would lead me to where I wanted
to go?
     Had he really said YEARS?
     It was already starting to seem a little unreal, that encounter, but
I knew it had happened.  His cloak still lay on the ground where I'd
dropped it, and I picked that up too.  It was sturdy and in good shape,
and I knew it would come in handy in the future, so I rolled it up and
tied it to the bottom of my pack with a pair of leather thongs.  Then I
surveyed my choices again.
     Which way?
     In the end, I chose one at random.  Whether that made me
Destiny's master or Her fool, I really couldn't say.  It just felt right.
     I started walking.
     It would be a long, long time before I stopped.

***

     He stood upon the edge of the bluff, wind plucking at his
clothes, and stared out over the valley below.  In his younger days he
would have seen only prey in such a lush land, laid out under the cool
light of the moon.
     When she arrived behind him, he knew it.  He should have been
surprised, he supposed, but was mostly just weary.  He didn't turn,
determined to make her speak first.
     Eventually, she did.
     "Was that really who I thought it was?"  Her voice was
melodic, angelic, perfect.  As always.  But there was a touch of
something unusual underlying it.  Uncertainty.
     He'd surprised her.  Served her right for watching him.
     "Yes, Ayelia.  That was him."  She snorted, a delicate sound.
     "An ... odd choice, Baahnid," she said at last, with something
far more familiar in her tone.  Disapproval.  He smiled thinly.
     "I do not choose them, Ayelia.  They just ... are.  Born out of
the clash of dark and light, defying fate's capricious decrees, they
appear in the tangled threads of the future.  And occasionally, I will see
one and know that he might be THE one."  He fell silent as he
continued to stare out over the valley, seeing for a moment a different
valley, a valley long ago and far away ...
     "I do not choose them," he continued at last, surprising himself.
"I find them."
     "It is pointless, Baahnid," she said, exasperated now.  "When
will you admit that?  Nothing will be accomplished by some lone human
champion.  In the end, we who stand above them will end this threat."
He turned then to see her watching him, her head held high and proud,
the single twisted spire that extended from her forehead throwing off
cold sparks of moonlight with every tiny motion.  Her platinum coat
drank in the cool lunar glow and gave it back as a fey glimmer.
     Moonlight really did become a unicorn, he thought sourly.  But
then, most things did.
     "You are wrong, Ayelia," he said softly, turning back to stare
again at the vista below.  "But I will not have this discussion with you
again.  You simply do not understand the strength of their hearts."
     "And you do?" she asked, a steely edge of anger creeping into
her lovely voice.  "You are no more HUMAN than I, Baahnid!  Or
have you forgotten that?"
     "That," he replied in a voice so soft it was nearly carried away
on the breeze, "is not the point."  There was silence for a few long
moments, and he began to hope that she would simply leave.
     In vain, as it turned out.
     "Your power and knowledge are wasted in this ... this vanity,
Baahnid."  There was something else in her voice now, something soft
and sad and almost pitying.  "Although ancient feuds lay between us, I
am not ashamed to admit that I respect you.  Your voice is missed in
our councils, the balance of your views sorely lacking.."  He smiled
then, and although it was tiny, almost non-existent, he was glad she
couldn't see his face, for she would never have let it slip by.
     "Victory lies with the mortals," he murmured.  "Of this, I am
certain.  As I have said many times, to your derision."
     "You are blinded," she said, the cool velvet of her voice marred
by a hint of arid heat.  "She is dead, Baahnid, dead these many years.
Can you not mourn her and move on?  You never belonged with
them!"  Anger twisted tightly in his gut at that, sudden and fierce,
although the only outward sign was the clenching of his fists and a slight
tremor in his jaw.  He took a breath, another, willing his voice to come
out neutral, unaffected.
     "Why don't you go stick your head in a virgin's lap?" he asked
mildly.  He heard a soft snort, then felt a ripple of power.
     She was gone.  At last.
     They never understood.  And they never would.  For all their
power and grandeur, they were not the focal point on which the battle
would turn.  For the Old Ones had left the mortals something special,
something that burned brightly in their hearts, something that drove them
to accomplish feats that should have been far beyond them.
     Once, Baahnid would have agreed with the fair 'corn, in her
assessment of the mortals.  But that was before.
     Before her.
     It had all begun with her, hadn't it?  And where would it end?
He glimpsed the lines of destiny sometimes, the tangle of possible
futures, but those were only limited glimpses and he had never seen the
end.  Never, not once.
     But the patterns of the many worlds, and the lives of those living
in them, tended to repeat and reflect.  It was, after all, the way of
things.
     And now Destiny had crossed his path with that of Ranma
Saotome once more.  Ranma Saotome.  Once, he'd known a man with
that name, that face.  They'd fought against one another and then
side-by-side.  They'd shared much.  He'd loved the man like a brother.
     And, in the end, he'd killed him.
     Once, long ago and far away.
     Ranma Saotome, he thought bleakly, casting his gaze out over
the valley once more.  Destiny has reunited us, after a fashion.  And I, I
can only hope that you do not fail me this time.
     The shadows grow long.  And I fear our time is running short.

***
 

             II -- Ship of Fools

     "For my purpose holds
     To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
     Of all the western stars, until I die."
                                     - Tennyson, "Ulysses"

     She'd lost them, but probably not for long.  There were just too
many of them, and these streets were their home turf.  Although she
was undisputably a dangerous woman, this wasn't the kind of battle she
really excelled at.
     But then, seducing and then killing ALL of her pursuers would
likely prove beyond even her charms.
     It'll be a snap, Sonya, she thought sourly.  Go to this address,
Sonya.  Nobody'll be looking for you, Sonya.  Completely routine,
Sonya.
     She was going to kill Drake for this, and that haughty elf too.  If
she survived.
     The cold was seeping through her thin blouse, sapping the heat
that her run had generated.  She'd lost her cloak back at the shop, and
was thankful that the icy rain had at least stopped.
     Like the weather is my biggest concern right now, she thought
ruefully.  She touched the small package tucked inside her belt,
reassuring herself that it was still there.  Then she took a deep,
steadying breath, and tucked an errant lock of long raven hair back
over her shoulder.  Sonya knew that the safety she felt huddled in this
alley was illusory; the net was tightening, and if she didn't move she'd
be caught for certain.
     Of course, her chances weren't much better if she tried to run,
but she'd be damned if she'd just let the Duke's men take her.
     And they WERE the Duke's men, of that she had no doubt.
For him to be operating so boldly in this city meant that Pirotess had
been right after all.  So much for Trossik being a free city.
     Bloody politics.
     Sonya began to edge deeper into the alleyway.  In truth, she'd
gotten turned around while barely slipping the snare that she'd
unwittingly wandered into, and she was more than a little lost.  Still, first
things first.  She couldn't risk the open streets, so she'd have to try to
navigate the narrow winding labyrinthine alleyways that formed the
shadowy backstreets of the upper city.  If she was very, very lucky, she
would lose her pursuers and manage to make her way close to the
skydocks.
     Gently, she eased around the first corner ... and found out that
she'd apparently used up all her luck for one night, as she found herself
facing a small group of armed men.
     Sonya recovered first, and took to her heels, cursing under her
breath.  Her pursuers overcame their shock much too quickly for her
liking, though, and an angry clatter told her that she had only a few
second's lead on them.
     Not enough.  Not nearly enough.
     The light back here was spotty at best, isolated pools of dingy
yellow dispelling the gloom, and if she'd had a greater lead she might
have tried to hide again.  That wasn't an option now, though.  She
thought about the small, lethal weapons she carried about her person,
including several throwing blades, but there weren't nearly enough of
those left.  And her pursuers were calling more of their friends to join
the chase.  She dodged a half-seen pile of garbage at the last moment,
then took a turning at random, catching a glimpse of three more men
coming out of the branch she hadn't taken.  One wrong step, one
wrong turn, and they'd be all over her.
     Sonya, she thought with a strange mixture of exhilaration and
regret, this could be it.  She wished then that she'd said good-bye to
Lou and Kei, but Lou had been tinkering with the engine and Kei had
been sleeping, and after all, it was just supposed to be a routine pick-
up, right?
     Ah, hell, she thought, I always knew I'd come to a bad end.
But I'm taking a few of these guys with me.  That was bravado, of
course; she might get a few of them, but she wouldn't be dying, not
right away.  No, they'd want her alive.  For questioning.  Or bait.
     That didn't bear thinking about, so she ran, trying to extend her
life by a few more minutes, looking for some chance, no matter how
slim.
     She skidded on the wet cobblestones and careened around a
corner, and then it was all over.  There was another pack of them,
racing straight towards her, waving swords and crossbows.  It was
almost flattering that the Duke had set so much of his vaunted
intelligence network to catch one woman.
     It took her a moment to realize that this group was also chasing
someone.
     He raced over the uneven cobblestones with almost feline
grace, and his eyes met hers as they raced towards each other, lingering
briefly before sweeping along to take in her own band of pursuers.
Sonya had the sudden feeling that he'd noted everything, catalogued it,
in just that glance.
     Then he was by her.
     He ran straight at the group behind her, catching them off-
guard, his long black braid trailing behind him as he soared effortlessly
through the crowd.  He leapt, his feet hitting the wall at the turn, and
took three quick steps straight up, then snapped his body into a flip that
carried him back towards Sonya.  Barely pausing when he reached the
ground, he threw himself into the oncoming crowd, a blur of balletic
motion.  Sonya gaped as he moved in a deadly but beautiful dance,
each punch and kick melding seamlessly into the next as swords and
men flew everywhere.
     As chaos broke out, she snapped out of her astounded daze
and whirled in a tight arc, flinging a handful of diamond-shaped blades
out behind her.  Several of her pursuers staggered and at least two fell;
their wounds were not likely fatal, but they'd been slowed for a few
vital moments.
     Now if she could only take advantage of the sudden shift of
momentum ...
     "Hey!" she shouted, lunging toward the fighter.  "This way!"
He'd forced the oncoming group back, and that left enough room to
reach a small, poorly lit alley that branched off, snaking between two
high brick buildings.  Sonya plunged into the alley without hesitation,
and sensed rather than saw him follow.  A crossbow bolt from the rear
ranks rocketed off the wall near the entrance, noisily chipping brick,
and she smiled wickedly as she savoured the cries of confusion they'd
left behind.
     They'd gained precious seconds.  Now, if she could just stay
ahead of the pack, she still had a chance.  Still had a ...
     She clattered to a stop, dumbfounded, as the stranger pulled up
abruptly behind her.  He didn't ask what the problem was, for which
she was grateful.  He really didn't have to; looking over her shoulder,
he could see for himself.
     Dead end.
     Fabulous.
     "Oops," she winced.  From the junction behind them came the
sounds of pursuit once again, and this time there was no place to run.
She turned, only to find the handsome stranger regarding the walls
critically.  No way out there, she despaired, just high sheer walls, at
least eight stories, not even any windows of balconies in sight ...
     Then he smiled.  It wasn't much of a smile, just a twitch of one
corner of his mouth, but it caught her off guard.  Not nearly as much,
however, as he did when he stepped forward and scooped her into his
arms with no apparent effort.
     "Hang on," he advised.  Sonya was too dumbfounded to argue.
As the sounds of angry, armed men drew near, the stranger's eyes
narrowed slightly.  Sonya had time to notice that they were blue with
just a hint of gray, and really quite attractive.
     Then he sprang.
     The leap carried them higher than she would have thought
possible, but even as her stomach seemed to drop out through her feet
she noted that it wasn't nearly high enough.  The leap carried them
close to a stained, blank wall, and she braced for the impact.
     It never came.
     Instead, the stranger swivelled his body in mid-air, planting his
feet against the cracked brick and bending his knees to absorb the
impact.  Then he pivoted slightly in place before they could begin to fall.
     And launched them upwards again.
     He springboarded off of the next point, higher up on the
opposite wall, and upwards they flew.  Below them, angry shouts
erupted as they Duke's men realized what was happening.  Several
crossbow bolts whistled through the air, but none of them came close
to hitting the soaring couple.
     Then a spell bolt exploded against one of the walls, and Sonya
felt a cold chill spread through her.
     A combat-rated mage.  The Duke was serious about this, all
right.
     But that mage only had time for one shot before they soared
over the edge of the wall to land on the roof, high above the fray and
out of sight.  Then the stranger was off and running, bounding across
the rooftops with unearthly grace, carrying her as if she weighed
nothing.
     His cloak streamed out behind them like a banner as he leapt
easily from rooftop to rooftop, the night air biting at exposed skin as it
whipped past them.  Sonya leaned into the stranger's chest a little,
enjoying the play of flat muscles against her body as he moved.
     Well, what do you know? she thought, amused.  I'm rescued.
I guess ...
     Finally, after tracing what seemed to Sonya like a random path
over half of the rooftops in the city, the stranger came to a stop in the
shelter of a large brick chimney.  He leaned back against it, winded,
and cast a quick glance into the gloom.
     "I don't think they were quick enough to follow that," she
murmured, gazing up into the stranger's face with a sultry smile.  He
blinked, seeming to realize all at once that she was still in his arms.  Her
own arms were still draped over his shoulders, and she started to
tighten her embrace when he set her down, lightly, on the rough surface
of the roof.  And if she wasn't mistaken, he appeared to be blushing
slightly.
     Of course, that could have just been a flush from exertion.
     "Are you okay?" he asked.  A nice voice, to go along with
those eyes and that chest.  She winked insouciantly.
     "Well, I had the situation under control," she lied cheerfully,
"but your solution was certainly ... fun.  And I do like to have fun."  He
didn't seem to know what to say to that.  She stifled a wistful sigh.  The
art of flirting was just lost on some people.
     "So, what did you do to get the Duke's men after you?" she
asked.  He blinked.
     "The Duke's men?" he asked blankly.
     "Yes.  Perhaps you remember them.  There were about twenty,
heavily armed, chasing you down that alley?" she prompted.  "The
same crew that was after me."
     "Those guys were all together?" he asked, a crease appearing
between his brows as he frowned.  She shook her head sadly.
     "Of course," she said.  "Did they fight when they came together
in the alley?  No, they all came after US.  Get it?"  He didn't; she could
tell just by looking.
     "The Duke's men are out in force in the upper city," she
pressed.  "And he's become a power, even here.  Nobody would send
their people out tonight, not guilds or gangs or rival networks.  Nobody
wants trouble with these guys."
     "I didn't want trouble with them, either," he said ruefully.  "I
was just asking about the Wastelands at this bar, then all of a sudden
these guys show up and tell me I'm going with them.  They tried ..."  He
broke off abruptly, staring at her face.  She could only imagine what her
expression must have looked like.
     "You came to the upper city," she said slowly, "went into a bar,
and starting asking about the Wastelands?"
     "Uh, yeah," he replied cautiously.  "I was, uh, discreet, though."
     "Clearly."  She shook her head.  Just wonderful.  Why did the
good-looking ones always have to be stupid?
     "Look," he snapped, irritation seeping into his voice.  "I've
been looking for the damned place for over two years now, and I ..."
He trailed off slowly, his eyes narrowing.
     "Wait a sec," he said.  "Do YOU know about the
Wastelands?"  Sonya ran her fingers slowly through her hip-length hair,
giving the stranger a measuring look.  A treasure hunter, maybe, or
some kid looking for adventure and excitement?  No.  Not just that,
anyway.  She could see it in his eyes, a shadow, a darkness.  The faint
smell of danger, of death.
     She loved that in a man.
     "Most people regard them as little more than a myth," she
shrugged.
     "I've been finding that out, yes," he growled.  She favoured him
with a slow smile.
     "But in this part of the world, we know better," she continued.
"Yes, I know about the Wastelands."  He tried to keep his face neutral,
but Sonya had lived most of her life reading men's faces.  Just like that,
she had him; all she had to do was reel him in.
     "You know how I could get there?" he asked, his eyes
gleaming with a light that was almost feverish.
     "Well, yes," she said slowly.  "I could tell you that, but ..."
     "But?"
     "I'll make you a deal," she said, brushing her hand down the
front of her blouse to surreptitiously check that her precious burden
remained undisturbed.  "I need to get somewhere, fast.  But that's
going to be a problem, with the Duke's entire organization looking for
me."
     "The Duke rules this city, huh?" the stranger asked.  She
sighed.  Outlanders.
     "You're clearly new in town," she said flatly.  "So let me clear this up
for you.  Trossik is a free city, technically.  But in reality, several
factions hold the real power here, and the Duke's group, hiding behind
his pet councillors, is the most powerful now.  If we're caught, we don't
go to jail, we disappear.  And if we reappear up in north of the border
in a slave market or some rich lord's harem, who's to know?"
     "Just for asking about the Wastelands?" the stranger blurted.
An unpleasant smile tugged at her lips.
     "The Duke doesn't encourage people to ask about outlaw
domains," she told him.  "So.  The deal.  You get me to the skydocks,
and in return I'll tell you how to reach the Wastelands.  Trust me,
spending some time with me beats the alternative.  There are a lot of
people in this city who'd just as soon slit your throat as tell you
anything, and if you have to go blundering around ..."  She trailed off
suggestively, and he grimaced.
     "I get it," he sighed.  "Okay, deal.  Which way?"  She smiled.
     "Actually, I'm kind of lost," she told him.  "I think we'll have to
go down to street level until I get my bearings."  His lips thinned into a
tight line and she added, "I don't think there are enough buildings for us
to travel this way out there anyhow."  He grumbled but didn't say
anything else, and they quickly located a rust-pitted ladder that led to
the alleyway below.
     Once they were safely in the shadows of the alley, Sonya
paused to think.
     "The fog is beginning to roll in," she murmured.  "That should
help us, but ..."  A sneeze caught her off guard, and she paused to wrap
her arms around herself, cursing her lost cloak.  "Damn, it's freezing!"
     Something swirled around her, and she started as a heavy cloak
settled around her shoulders.  Cocking her head, she shot the stranger a
grateful smile.
     "Thanks," she said.  He just shrugged.  Without the cloak, she
could see that his clothing was clearly foreign.  He wore a black, high-
collared shirt with red trim and fastenings down the front, loose black
pants bound snugly at the ankles, flat shoes, and a wide red sash
wound tightly around his narrow waist and tied off at his right hip, the
ends dangling to his knees.  His dark hair was bound back in a narrow
braid that fell to the small of his back.
     Not bad, she thought ruefully.  If only this trip was pleasure and
not business ...
     "If you put the hood up, it'll be impossible to recognize you,"
he said.  She nodded.
     "But what about you?" she asked.  "If you've been asking
around about the Wastelands, then they'll know your face for sure."
He grimaced.
     "Well, I think I can do something about that," he told her.  She
watched, puzzled, as he walked deeper into the alley.  A decrepit old
rain barrel hunched by one damp wall, looking thoroughly disreputable.
The stranger stopped by the barrel and seemed to steel himself, then
cupped his hands and thrust them into the barrel.  Then, to her
astonishment, he raised his cupped hands and poured icy water over his
head.
     And CHANGED.
     He turned and walked back to her, and she could only stare.
     The hairstyle was the same, but it was red now, a deep blazing
colour that showed highlights of burnished copper even in the dim light
of the alley.  The eyes were the same blue-gray, but fringed with long
dark lashes.  The face had changed as well, the cheekbones higher,
wider and more pronounced, the chin narrower, the lips fuller.  And the
body ...
     The stranger's body strained at his clothing in ways it hadn't
before, the shirt bulging in the chest, the sash no longer tight around the
waist, the hips flaring under the loose black pants.
     He was shorter.  He was prettier.  He was ...
     He was a ... girl?
     "Not a bad trick, huh?" she asked.  Her voice was still nice, a
touch throaty, but now it was unmistakable female.  Sonya just gaped
as the girl came closer, until she realized that she was now taller than
the stranger.  Staring down into those eyes, though, she saw something
comforting; the darkness, the shadow, was still there, coiled and
shimmering with latent fury.  Boy or girl, this one was not tame, and no
one to be trifled with.
     And, as usual, that thought aroused Sonya, despite how
inappropriate the circumstances.
     "I've never seen anything like that before," Sonya said, her
voice hushed, as the vivacious red-head adjusted her clothing in a series
of well-practised motions.
     "Ah, you get used to it," the girl said.  "Nobody'll recognize me
like this, right?"  Sonya could only nod.  No, there wasn't much chance
of that.
     "Right," the girl said briskly, "let's get going."  Sonya stopped
her though, and the red-head looked at her questioningly.
     "It occurs to me," Sonya said, a trace of her usual confidence
returning, "that we haven't even been introduced.  I'm Sonya."  The girl
smiled, a quick crooked grin.  The expression was oddly endearing.
     "Ranko," she answered.  "Ranko Saotome."
     "Well, Ranko," Sonya said, peering out at the street beyond the
sheltering alley.  "Time is growing short.  Shall we push our luck?"
     With that, they set out for the skydocks.

***

     I walked along the damp streets, unwilling to give any sort of
free reign to the elation that wanted to well up from deep inside.  The
last two years had taught me to temper any optimism and to doubt
everything.  Thanks to a worn map I'd stumbled across, I'd recently
left the continent of Livdren and ended up here in Saeni.  The map had
been an old one, and in a big blank area on this continent had been
written the legend "Beware the Wastelands of the Soul".  The monks
who'd let me search through their library out of gratitude after I'd killed
a marauding demon hadn't been able to tell me much about the map
and nothing about the Wastelands.  However, they all agreed that if
such a place existed it would likely be on the continent of Saeni.
     They hadn't thought much of Saeni and its inhabitants.  In fact,
they'd referred to them as decadent and wild, flaunting their strange
magic and knowledge in defiance of the will of the gods.  Or something.
     Frankly, that had sounded a whole lot more interesting than
what I'd been seeing.
     And so far, it was.  As to whether the Wastelands were really
here, well, just mentioning them had gotten me chased by armed men,
hadn't it?  I sneaked a glance at Sonya as we walked.  The cloak did a
good job of covering her up, but I had trouble forgetting her piercing
blue eyes, or her disconcerting habit of standing close when she talked.
She was a very beautiful woman, but trustworthy?  It was entirely
possible, after all, that she'd only told me what I wanted to hear so that
I'd help her get to these skydocks.
     Still, I didn't have much to lose.  If she did know something
about the Wastelands, I wanted to hear it.  And with some shadowy
organization out looking for me just because of an innocent question,
my options were definitely limited.
     The fog had come in quite heavily, and there were fuzzy haloes
around every light as we walked.  It made sounds muffled and
indistinct, but I had the feeling it would be a bigger handicap for our
pursuers than it would be for us.
     I glanced back at Sonya, a troubling thought occurring to me
just then.  She knew why I'd been chased, but I hadn't actually gotten
around to asking why this Duke's men had been chasing HER.  I'd
helped her on an impulse, in the heat of the moment really, without
knowing anything about the situation.
     Well, too late to worry about it now.  I'd become quite
philosophical about these things in the two years since setting off from
that dark crossroads.  I'd just have to keep alert in case there was
more trouble.
     Which, of course, there would be.  It seemed that, wherever I
went, there was always more than enough trouble to go around.
     The buildings had become lower and more widely spaced as
Sonya led me through the unfamiliar streets.  This part of the city was
nowhere near the gates that led to the lower city, at least as far as I
could tell.  The upper city was built on a wide plateau, and there was
only one road that led from the lower to the upper city.  That, of
course, meant it would be easy for anyone looking for us to find us if
we tried to leave.
     I hoped that Sonya had a plan ... although, truth be told, it had
been awhile since I'd been in a good scrap.  I'd gone easy on those
guys earlier, since I hadn't known if they were town militia or what.
Now that I knew they were part of some political power struggle, I
wouldn't have to hold back.
     Politics have never been my strong suit.
     "We're nearly there," Sonya murmured.  The night air was
damp and chill, but walking was keeping me warm even without my
cloak.
     "Nearly where?" I asked.  She turned, and I could see her face
in the shadowed depths of the hood.
     "The skydocks," she replied.  "See?"  We rounded a corner,
and I saw a series of low buildings, like warehouses, lining the street we
were on.  Barely visible through the shroud of fog was a shabby-
looking fence.  Lights burned in the distance past the fence, their
intensity blunted by the diffusing mist.  Sonya began to quicken her
pace, and I hastened to keep up.  We stayed in the shadows near the
edge of the buildings until we reached the fence.
     "There's a gate down that way," she said, her voice pitched
low.  "But I'd rather not use it, in case someone's watching ..."
     That was as far as she got.  I scooped her up neatly, just as I'd
done back in the alley, and with her in my arms hopped the fence
easily.  Then I set her down again on the other side.  She stepped back,
those electric blue eyes seeking me out over a wry smile.
     "Even as a girl you're very strong," she said.  "Reminds me of
a friend of mine."  It seemed she would say more, but then she simply
turned and motioned me to follow.
     We were in a large yard full of shapes shrouded by gloom and
fog.  I could make out stacks of crates and some parked wagons,
which provided lots of cover as we moved.  Sonya seemed to know
the way, so I stuck close behind her, wondering if there was trouble
waiting up ahead.
     Finally we reached the edge of available cover.  Ahead, there
was nothing but a lot of open space, hemmed in by gray fog and
hulking, indistinct shapes.  If I squinted, they looked vaguely like large
ships, but that was impossible.  The upper city was too high for that ...
     "Hey," I whispered.  "Are those things flying ships?"  I'd seen a
couple while approaching the city, soaring effortlessly through the air.
The sight had been an impressive one, and I suddenly realized that if
such things were to dock at this city, something called skydocks was
probably where they'd do it.
     "Airships, yes," Sonya replied under her breath, distracted.
"Damn, which one was it?  I can't see anything in all this fog ..."  She
peered intently into the mist-shrouded gloom, then finally sighed.
     "We're going to have to get closer," she muttered.  "Come on,
and stay close."  I followed her, intrigued in spite of myself.  I'd thought
earlier that there was only one way off the plateau, but here was
another.  If there was a ship waiting, we'd be free and clear.
     Of course, if this was an avenue of escape, the bad guys would
be watching it.  I no sooner had that thought then the flesh on the nape
of my neck start to crawl.
     We weren't alone out here.
     I lunged, pushing Sonya to the ground just as something came
whirling out of the darkness at her.  It continued on past us, striking a
nearby light pole and exploding into a tangle of slim cables which
proceeded to wind themselves tightly the pole.  I pulled her up and we
were running even as the first shouts rose up around us.  By the sound
of it, there were a fair number of enemies, but they seemed to be
scattered around.  The fog would hide us, but it would also hide them.
And, to judge by the trap which had nearly snared Sonya, they were
ready for us.
     Crap.
     "Where are we going?" I asked as we ran.  Her hood had
fallen back, and Sonya's hair streamed out behind her as she ran.
     "I'm not sure," she confessed.  "It all looks so different in the
dark and fog ..."
     "You're not sure?" I asked, incredulous.
     "Hey, this was supposed to be routine!" she snapped back.
The sound of running feet came from all around, oddly muffled by the
fog.  Then something exploded above us, flaring an actinic white and
dispelling some of the gloom.  The fog still managed to diffuse some of
the light, but the flare was powerful enough to reveal more of the area
around us.
     "There!" Sonya shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me
towards a metal walkway beaded with moisture.  "This is it, I'm sure!"
We raced down the dock, our feet clattering noisily on the slick metal
surface.  This walkway was narrower than the one where I'd seen the
big ships tied up, and there didn't appear to be anything docked on
either side.  The sounds of pursuit behind us began to intensify, and I
had a very bad thought.  Over the side, I couldn't see anything but fog,
and I chanced a quick glance at Sonya.
     "Tell me there's something under this dock," I said.  She smiled
grimly.
     "Sure," she shot back.  "The ocean ... a couple of hundred feet
straight down."  Swell.  The bad guys had us cornered, then, if Sonya
hadn't chosen the right dock.
     I was really hoping she had.
     "Oops," she said.
     "Oops?"
     "The slip is empty."
     "The slip ..."
     "Where our ride should be."
     Swell.
     She kept running, and since I didn't have a better plan I
followed.  Unfortunately, a waist-high railing loomed up out of the night
all too soon.  Sonya hurdled the railing easily, and I followed, landing
on the end of the dock.  The metal here was painted with black and
yellow stripes, and standing on this side of the rail there was only a few
feet of dock before the big drop.  Sonya walked tentatively up to the
edge and peered over.  I followed, stopping beside her and turning to
look back the way we'd come.  There were bobbing lights moving
along the dock, and dark shapes were beginning to resolve as they
came closer.
     They weren't hurrying now.  They knew we had nowhere to
go.  I felt a faint smile forming on my lips as I let my body ease into a
loose stance.  Well, fine.  No matter how many of them there were, I
wasn't going down without a fight.  If the only way out was through
these guys, then I'd go through them.
     "Jump," Sonya said.  I glanced over at her blankly.
     "Beg pardon?" I asked.  She moved in front of me, those blue
eyes alive and sparkling with the nearness of danger.
     "Jump, Ranko," she repeated.  "Quickly!"
     "Are you out of your ...?" I began hotly.  She cut me off by framing
my  face with her cool hands, a smile that was equal parts knowing and
mischievous blossoming on her ripe lips like a flower.
     Then she somehow flowed across the half-step that separated
us, and suddenly her body was pressed against mine, her mouth
brushing mine, then clinging, lips parted, breath hot and sweet.  My
eyes widened as my breath caught in my throat, choking off a startled
whimper.  For a long, spine-melting moment, she taunted my lips with
that delicate silken pressure, her long nails digging lightly into the tender
skin in front of my ears as she did so.  Then, oh so slowly, she pulled
away, and it was all I could do not to instinctively follow her.  Instead, I
gasped, drawing molten air into my lungs as her hands drifted lazily
down, brushing the sides of my neck and flowing over my shoulders to
rest, light as butterflies, against my chest.
     "Sorry, hon," she breathed.
     And pushed.
     I'm not ashamed to admit that her kiss had such an effect on
me, I wasn't able to react until I saw the edge of the dock receding
past my toes.  And by then it was far too late.
     I was still trying to recover from that shock when my fall was
abruptly ended.  Judging by the look on the face of the man who caught
me, he was nearly as surprised as I was.
     "What the hell ...?" he exclaimed.  Then his head swivelled
back up, and he set me roughly on my feet.  I staggered back, falling
over something and landing on my butt just in time to see Sonya drop
neatly into his arms.
     "Drake," she said as if she'd just met him on the street.  "How
nice you could make it."  She smiled sweetly up at his dark scowl.
"Your routine pick-up has gone very badly wrong, handsome.  We
should probably be going.  Now."  He glanced over at me, and opened
his mouth.
     "Ranko's with me," she said before he could speak.  "Don't be
difficult, Drake."  He set her down, and I realized for the first time we
were in some sort of boat.  Only that couldn't be right, because there
was no way I'd fallen all the way to the ocean.  If I had, I'd be dead.
     The man Sonya called Drake moved up to the front of the long
boat and slid easily into a seat.  I could vaguely make out a steering
wheel of some sort, and some simple controls.  He did something, and
from behind us came a series of harsh coughs, then a shuddering roar.
I leaned over the side and found we were indeed in a boat.  This boat,
though, was floating in the air, suspended by some invisible force in the
sea of fog.  There were two engines jutting out from the back, raked at
an angle on narrow support pylons.  From the backs of the engines
protruded long spikes, and there were propellers of some sort on those
spikes which were turning faster and faster even as I watched.
     Sonya hauled me back into the boat by my shirt.
     "Hang on!" she shouted over the engine's roar.  The boat
slewed around and began to accelerate, much like a motorboat in
water.  There was a flare of light from behind and above, and a streak
of fire arrowed down from the edge of the dock, narrowly missing us.
Then we were away, the dock and its lights already vanishing into the
fog.  Sonya collapsed into one of the bench seats near the back, and
threw her arms out to the wind, her long hair streaming back from her
face.  Then she glanced at me and smiled wickedly.
     "Having fun yet?" she asked.
     And laughed, a wild, uninhibited sound that rivalled the wind.

***

     The front of the flying boat was sheltered by a small cabin.  The
cabin was open into the back of the boat, but there was a canvas
covering that could be dropped down and tied into place to form a
back wall.  Sonya and I moved up into that cabin to escape the wind,
and she untied the rolled canvas and let it drop into place, then secured
it to the floor.
     I took the opportunity to check out our saviour.  He was tall,
taller than I would be even in boy form, and I knew he was strong from
the easy way he'd handled me before.  His long, silvery hair was parted
in the middle, framing his face and falling thick and straight to his waist.
His
high cheekbones and long, narrow jaw combined with tilted, emerald green
eyes to make a face that radiated cool confidence, with just the faintest hint
of danger that was all the more daunting for not being flaunted.  His body
seemed lean and hard, too, at least what I could see through his loose
clothing, and I suspected the long, curved swords strapped beside his chair
were his.
     I also had no doubt he knew how to use it.  My instincts told
me that this man would be dangerous in a fight.  And when it came to
fighting, I always trusted my instincts.
     "So, Sonya," he said, one hand on the wheel and the other on
the throttle.  "Aren't you going to introduce your new friend?"  His
voice was controlled, giving nothing away, but I had the feeling he
wasn't happy with the way things had turned out.
     Well, that made two of us, but considering the attitude of the
crowd we'd left behind, I'd take my chances with Drake.
     I wondered if he was her boyfriend.  I wondered where the hell
THAT thought had come from.  I tried not to think about the way
Sonya's breasts had felt, pressed against mine, as she'd kissed me.
     My life just never gets any simpler.
     "I told you, Drake, this is Ranko," she said.  "Ranko, Drake."
     "And why did you bring her here?" he asked, glancing over at
her.  Sonya sat beside him, and I sat behind her, so I could see them
both in profile.
     "She saved me, Drake," Sonya said, the slightest edge creeping
into her throaty voice.  "I wasn't just going to leave her on that dock."
     "And just why did you need saving, Sonya?" he asked, his
voice still cool, controlled.  "This was supposed to be a routine matter."
     "Are you suggesting that I screwed up, Aladair Perss Drake?"
she asked, her voice now full of jagged ice.  "Because I'll have you
know your "reliable" source was compromised.  He nearly got me
caught by the Duke's cretins."  I winced.  If a tone that icy had been
directed at me, I'd have looked for the nearest exit.  I half expected her
words to have drawn blood, but the only effect Drake showed was
mild surprise.
     "Sonya, are you sure?" he asked slowly.
     "Of course I'm sure!" she snapped.  "I said just what you told
me to, and the next thing I know trouble's sneaking up behind me.
Good thing I'm the suspicious type."  He looked vaguely troubled.
     "I can't believe Karn would betray anyone to the Duke," he
murmured.  "He hates the Virmalli more than anyone."  He fell silent
then, staring ahead moodily.  I noticed his gaze kept flicking to a small
globe set in a round metal case, sort of like a compass.  I hoped it was
telling him where to go, because in this fog I was totally lost.
     "This is troubling," he said at last.
     "Oh, I'm fine," Sonya said acidly.  "Thanks for asking."  A faint
ghost of a smile graced his lips, and he inclined his head slightly.
     "I had no doubt you would be, Sonya," he said.  "A Midnight
Panther can take care of herself, yes?"
     "This isn't the sort of job I usually did," she grumbled,
apparently unmollified.  "Something like this is more up Lou's alley."
     "Indeed.  Still, we will have some trouble without the package you
were sent after."
     "Drake," she said softly, looking up at him from under her
eyelashes.  "Give me some credit."  He glanced at her again, this time
surprise showing clearly on his face.
     "You got it?" he asked.  She smiled slyly.
     "You DID doubt me," she purred.  "Unwise.  When it comes
to men, I always get what I want, Drake.  Always."  Something in her
voice seemed to resonate deep in my belly, and I felt acutely
uncomfortable.  There was a dangerous, untamed sensuality about
Sonya that both attracted and repelled.  Mostly attracted, if I was to be
honest.
     "That will make things easier," he said.  "But I have a bad
feeling that we won't have much time now that the Duke knows we're
in the area.  First Harldon, then Omeesia.  Now he's set his sights on
us.  He seems intent on controlling ..."  He broke off, casting a quick
glance at me, as if he couldn't speak freely in front of me.
     "And you, Ranko," he said.  "Your clothing marks you an
outlander.  Are you new to the borderlands?"
     "Yeah," I admitted.
     "Then I suppose you don't understand much of what's going
on."
     "You could say that," I told him dryly.  He nodded, turning
back to the controls.
     "Well, it looks like you're along for the ride now."  He adjusted
the throttle slightly, and pushed another lever forward a notch.
     "I'm afraid, though, that you may have cause to regret that," he
continued softly.  "Before very long, you may wish you'd never seen
either of us."  I sat back.  Sonya crossed her arms over the back of her
seat and rested her chin on them, giving me a sultry smile.
     Swell.  Just swell.

***

     It was about thirty more minutes before anything happened.
There was some sort of tension between Drake and Sonya, and I
wasn't sure if I was the cause or not.  They didn't talk much for the rest
of the trip, though, and the only sound was the air buffeting the boat as
it raced through the sky.
     I took advantage of the lull to think about my situation.  I didn't
know where we were going or what would happen when we got there,
although this didn't bother me as much as it once would have.  After all,
that had been the story of my life for a couple of years now.  And if
there was trouble, I'd just deal with it as necessary.
     I wanted to press Sonya about the Wastelands, but Drake's
presence gave me pause.  I'd already caused a ruckus just by
mentioning them; I wasn't sure if it was safe to bring up that subject
around anyone but Sonya at this point.  I'd just have to wait until I
could get her alone.
     Thinking about Sonya made me acutely uncomfortable for
some reason.  I felt a crease form between my brows as I frowned.  I
couldn't quite put my finger on why, and felt a strange reluctance to
dwell on the subject, mostly because I kept remembering how she'd
kissed me on the dock.  Purely as a distraction, I reminded myself
hastily.  But I'd still ...
     Enough about her, I told myself angrily.  This is getting me
nowhere.  Instead, I took another look at the flying boat.  Nowhere in
Livdren had I seen anything like this, and this was nothing compared to
the big ships I'd seen briefly flying overhead before.  It made me
wonder what else they had here.  At the very least, something like this
could make my journey a lot easier, and a lot quicker.
     Assuming, of course, Sonya really could tell me how to get to
the Wastelands.
     "Here we go," Drake said, breaking the moody silence.  I sat
up, peering through the curved windscreen.  At first I didn't see
anything, but as Drake pulled back the throttle and began to turn,
something loomed out of the fog.  I saw bare masts, and then a long,
dark hull.  It looked vaguely like a sailing ship, but the shape was
wrong, the hull too rounded and with projections in odd places.  I
couldn't get a good look, though, through the fog and dark, just fleeting
impressions.
     It looked like some ghost ship, coming out of the fog that way,
with dim lights glowing from round windows set in the dark hull.  We
swung into position beside and behind the ship, and Drake turned to
Sonya.  She sighed and glanced at me.
     "Come on, Ranko," she said.  "Give me a hand, would you?"
She bent down and undid the canvas and we stepped out onto the
unprotected rear deck, Sonya giving a little shiver as we did so.  I
didn't know why she was acting cold; she still had my damned cloak.
Well, Baahnid's cloak, and I'd be wanting it back.  I'd discovered over
time that it had a few handy properties.
     There was a large, U-shaped frame hinged about the middle of
the boat.  Right now, it was lying flush with the gunwales, facing the
rear.  Sonya took one side and I took the other, and at her prompt we
pulled together.  The frame came up easily, locking into place once it
was perpendicular to the deck.  There was a large steel ring at the top,
and as I watched, Drake eased us in close to the ship.  A boom was
swung over the side, and a hook dangled at its end.  We manoeuvred in
until the hook slid neatly through the ring, then Drake killed the engines.
The propellers slowly ceased rotating as we were hoisted up and
swung inwards, then lowered to a cradle on the deck.  There were a
few people milling around, and they clustered near us as the boat was
made secure.
     "Sonya!"  A girl pushed to the front of the onlookers
impatiently.  Her darkly tanned skin contrasted with the white coveralls
she was wearing unzipped to her waist, revealing a dark tank top and
very feminine curves.  The wind toyed with her tousled mane of collar
length dark hair as she waved, flashing a relieved smile.
     "Hi, Lou," Sonya replied.
     "You're so late!" the other girl called.  "I was starting to get
worried!"  She nervously touched a pair of tinted goggles that hung
around her neck, looking like she was torn between relief and irritation.
     "Sorry," Sonya told her as one of the men gave her a hand
getting down.  "I ran into some problems."
     "Are you okay?" Lou asked, clearly concerned.  Sonya smiled
gently.
     "Of course," she said with an wink.  "But thanks for asking."
She glared at Drake as she said that, but he ignored her, leaping nimbly
down with his sheathed sword in one hand.  I followed, ignoring the
offers of assistance, and watched as Sonya reached inside her belt and
came out with a small object, round and metallic with a cylinder
protruding from one end.  She tossed it lightly to the girl called Lou.
     "There you go," she said, sounding pleased with herself.  "Hard
to believe such a little thing could shut down our engine."
     "Well, it did," Lou said, handling the strange piece of hardware
as if it were gold.  "We were lucky to get ahold of this."
     "You have no idea," Sonya sighed.
     "Lou," Drake broke in, his voice a serious counterpoint to
Sonya's bantering.  "Now that you've got that, how long to get the
engine up?"  Lou hesitated, suddenly looking uncertain.
     "I ... I'm not