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when she spotted a three small uniform, two floored buildings.
They could be
barracks. She clung to the path of shadows and crept closer.
Guards. She'd
seen no guards anywhere else but there were some here. There
were two pairs of
guards. They jogged a path that snaked between the buildings.
Their run was
timed so they would meet in the center of each building. Not a
very secure
watch, to Storms way of thinking. It was more likely some form
of punishment.
Storm wondered what would happed to them when they found out
that Thistle had
escaped. Lyeazic were never kind to failure. Best not to think
on it. Storm
waited until the guards where on their way toward the middle
building, away
from her, then dashed for the first building. She checked for
anything that
might mark Thistle. Nothing. As the poor guardsmen were on their
way to the
far building Storm made her way to the second. She checked
again. Nothing.
Wait... a familiar smell. A bit of blood, Thistle's but there
was something
wrong. It was different, radically so, but it was Thistle. It
has to do with
what they feed her, Storm reasoned. Something that keep her
weak. Storm made
toward the door, finding it unlocked entered.
This was too ... Stop. Think that and something will go wrong.
Think about
something else. Storm could see all the way to the end of the
building all the
doors were closed. There were sounds of feet scuffing floors,
the sound of
someone cracking his bones. She could hear someone slurping some
liquid rather
loudly. Storm crept down the hallway scenting each door. Strange
thing
stealing a person. Storm occupied her mind as she checked the
doors
mechanically. Reverse kidnaping. This was no different from any
other job she
pulled. In fact she'd stolen things much bigger than Thistle.
Things that
didn't help when you took them. Thist would hopefully be
helpful.
If not she'd carry... Here!
This was the door. Storm could smell Thistle within. Blood,
lots of it. How
badly is she hurt? Storm pushed on the door. It opened
soundlessly. Thistle
was laying on a cot, sleeping. Least Storm hoped she was
sleeping. She looked
more like an abused greyhound than a human being. Badly scarred
skin stretched
tight over rope-like muscle. She was a mass of half-healed
scars. The worst of
it was her arm, what was left of it. Storm knew she had lost her
hand when she
was kidnaped, but now most of it was gone. Storm had to get a
better look, to
see if Thistle was able to travel. She leaned inside.
Motion! Storm turned her head just in time to hear the
sickening crack of
metal on bone. She blinked. There was a crunch when she blinked.
Another
crack! This time she felt the pain explode along the side of her
head. The
room spun. The wall she was leaning on became the floor she was
laying on. She
looked up. Something dark stood over here, with the blood in her
eyes she
couldn't make it out. She tried looking at something closer.
What was it? A
boot? Rising up no falling. Black.
8... Sluggish... Move... Need.... Move... Got to...
"mmmooove" Was
that her voice? It sounded so weak. She tested it trying to send
a sound to
her throat to be voiced. "Ohhnnggettuup," she pleaded with
herself. Light
began to filter through her eyelids, pounding into her brain.
She gathered up
her courage and opened her eyes a sliver. She stifled a groan
at the late day
sun. How long had she been out? An hour? A day? Maybe two? She
had no way of
knowing. How did this happen? She searched her mind and
gradually it came to
her. An Elf? ...dark ... Lyeazic Kavnir! I blinked Kavnir back
to SeaWard.
SWEET SELENE! That's never backfired before. Thistle! I gotta
get to Thist.
The important of the mission returned to Storm's mind forcing
out the fog of
confusion that had clouded it.
Using a tree for support, she got onto her shaky feet. As the
last wisps of
the cloud evaporated from her mind, she found that her body was
actually well
rested. She was still in a forest. She had been extremely lucky
while taking
her little nap. Which way to The Lyeazic gateway? She took a
moment to get her
bearings. She found her own trail and followed it back toward
the archway.
As she came near the stone eagle archway, she heard something
coming toward
her. She hid and waited for it to come into view. It was a horse
drawn wagon,
most likely a supply shipment. Storm grinned. She saw her
opportunity. As the
wagon drove by she slipped between the wheels and held onto the
bottom of it.
As wagon passed, unsearched, under the watchful eagle's head,
Storm felt the
barest twinge in her spine. Not enough to shiver, just enough to
be noticed.
"Noticed and easily forgotten," Storm thought ruefully. For the
Lyeazic magic
is as necessary and as useful as torchlight in the dark or a fur
on a cold
night. It existed in almost everything in their society. Why not
a stone eagle
as a sentry. Storm secretly hoped beyond hope, that a raid on
the warrior
training ground would be so stupid to be unthinkable. "Of
course. I could be
over analyzing things because Im nervous as hell." Storm shook
loose the worry
from her mind.
The wagon stopped. She heard footsteps, then voices, then two
sets of
footsteps fading along with the voices. She stayed where she
was. When there
was no sound for a goodly amount of time she got down and looked
around. She
was by a huge building with large doors, a warehouse most
likely. No doubt
they would be coming back with more people to unload the wagon.
Storm leaped
unto the wagon up top of the cargo. It was a long high jump to
the roof of the
wear house, but if Storm couldn't make it, she had no right
calling herself a
thief. Thankfully Storm was still worthy of the title.
Storm looked around the encampment from her perch, mildly
surprised that the
shield that kept the place hidden was perfectly invisible. If
someone should
try to take the citadel, The camp would see them coming before
the enemy knew
that they were close. All the building were smooth stone work,
almost as if
they were carved each from a single stone. They were probably
shaped by a
similar magic that Flame employed. Storm wondered if she'd be
impressed. No
probably not. Storm looked for buildings likely to hold
prisoners. There were
no bars on any windows as far as she could see. The smell in the
air gave no
hint of squalid conditions. If there were prisoners there were
well kept.
There was, however the scent of the sweat of many and of the
blood of many,
fleshly spilled all mixed with dust. The smell of battle. Maybe
the Lyeazic
had blood sport. That's where she'd start looking. Storm leaped
of the roof
into a concealing shadow and made her way toward the source of
the bloodshed.
Storm found her way to the arena with ease. She started to have
a look insid\ ™]]Í