Into the West

HaHa!!!! I'm not even going into how much trouble I had with this EVIL chapter!!!

But now here it is for you viewing pleasure!!!

ashesxx2xxashes once again I thank you for your kind review! And add - what can I say? I love cliff-hangers! they amuse the hell out of me!!!

And now, onto the story!

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~The Court of Thieves, The Raven Arise, Sanc~

The court of thieves was in full swing by the eleventh hour. Men and women alike crowded the large room with its scattering of tables. Rogues loyal to Flent sat at the tables closest to the fire, but only the king and his guest sat at its side.

The nearest table was playing host to a dice and dagger game. Coram and Shem, the copper-skinned twins with their strange crescent moon shaped hand axes seemed to be winning. Across the table sat Usah and Khial, two of the best pickpockets and trackers he had ever seen. Both held slight smirks on their lips which could mean only one thing: the game would soon turn in their favour.
Watching them was Reega, with her assorted group of girls.
Taith the forger and Leeveen the hedge-witch sat in a quiet corner deep in talk. Looking over to the bar at the far side of the room he spotted Solom behind a crowd of patrons and in the doorway behind the bar stood a tall hooded figure, Merric.

Eyes scanning the rest of wide room briefly, Flent allowed his mind to wonder away from his handsome, if annoying, guest to their beautiful problem. It was almost funny to think that such a delicate and harmless looking being could cause such havoc wherever she went, but it also was not all that surprising.
She was who she was after all and in all the time he had known of her, she had not changed.

~The world was stained the colour of fresh blood. Fallen enemies lay against the cold earth. He could barely dare to call what had just happened a battle.
It was too close to a massacre.
Laughter rose, beautiful and as clear as a clarion call. Turning, he looked towards the north and the on coming night. There rose a mound of tangled limbs and blackened armour and at its peek stood a tall delicate figure.
Long blood coloured hair churned in the wind like a banner of flames, most of it, its true colour, some of it stained. Golden armour burned in the fading light, the intricate patterns etched into the metal glowed with its own power.
Runes of protection and runes for containment.
It did not occur to him until much later that she wore the armour not for her own protection, but for everyone else’s.
Yelling could be heard in the distance and he turned in time to see the enemy retreating. Screams and panicked cries of ‘The Red Wolf of the Andine’ echoed across the barren field and still she laughed.~

Turning back to his guest, Flent sat observing the Andine lord seated across from him. It was almost impossible to tell his ranking amongst them. They all dressed like royalty. However, if he was looking for her, he would have to have some sort of equal footing otherwise she would not listen.

Looking up, Flent was met with an irritated pair of leaf-green eyes and a cocked eyebrow.

“You should be old enough to know that it is rude to stare,” the Andine stated calmly.

A smirked graced Flent’s lips for a moment, “And you would know all about that since you’re older then everyone in this room twice over.”

“True, but so are you…Wanderer.”

Flent felt his black eyes dim at the title, Gods he hated it more then anything. “You know what I am then?”

“Of course I do. I was there when you first landed. I watched when the peace treaties were signed in Pryroth. I remember when you finally realised what had become of some of you and not others. I think I mourned your loss of mortality.
Mortals were never meant to become Immortal, most cannot handle watching their loved ones grow old and die as they remain unchanged by time.” A sad smiled graced pale lips and then, in an instant it was gone.

Nodding sadly, Flent thought back to lost family, friends and lovers.

Immortality truly was more of a curse then a gift.

“She never mentioned that she was with anyone,” Flent finally managed to say. In the minutes that had passed since the man before him had spoken, all he had heard was static.

Leaning back in the seat, his guest shrugged slightly, “Would you mention something like that to someone that you had just met if you had come to kill their king? She might be a lot of things, but careless to the point of stupidity is not normally one of them.”

“I doubt it was her plans that made her keep quiet,” the thief answered. Looking across at the other man Flent felt his throat tighten with sudden jealousy, it wasn’t fair he thought. But it was not surprising that she was tied to someone, especially one as handsome as his guest.

Cocking one of his pale eyebrows, the man nodded, “You might just be right about that. We are as welcomed as a swarm of scorpions and that is being kind. I suppose that if you have been hunted for as long as we have it just becomes second nature to hide the truth about ones self. Don’t you think?”

“Wanderers: men and women who came originally from Anvar and gained the precious ‘gift’ of Immortality,” disgust laced Flent’s words as he though of the blood shed born of that so-called gift. “We have also found ourselves being hunted by those we once considered brethren for something we had no control over. So it is something I could understand.”

“So, young king, can you tell me where my beautiful wolf is hiding herself?”

Looking back to the pale man he nodded, “The last time I spoke to her she told me that she was staying in an inn called The Waxing Moon, it’s at the southern end of Palace Way, two levels above the gate. You probably passed it on your way here.”

Nodding the tall man rose from his seat, “I doubt we shall ever meet again, so I shall thank you for both of us. I shall take my leave of you Wanderer, but first…” The tall Andine reached into the folds of his cloak and removed a delicate knife. Carefully he handed it over to the thief.

The metal glowed with a blue light, moon-steel, Flent thought with amazement. Only the Andine had been able to craft weapons and armour from the alloy. It would only become molten at volcanic temperatures and when it hardened, it was feather light and unbreakable. The Gates Of Hannon had been made of such metal.
The hilt was decorated with a wolf formed of churning red flames, her symbol, he noticed with a smile.

Looking up, Flent nodded his thanks and slid the dagger into a spare sheath inside his boot.

“From both of us, with our thanks.” Throwing the hood over his head the man signalled to his two companions and headed towards the door.

They had almost made it when it slammed open and a man dressed in the uniform of the guard walked in.

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