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[Adrian Bishop]

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And so the Beast comes.

Adrian wandered this way and that through the camp, alternately lifting his lantern aloft to illuminate the darkest tents and then lowering it to look under cots and low-lying brambles.

Arahim would be there shortly – and so, apparently, would be the murderer. In his off-hand, Adrian gripped his kryss tightly. His body felt coiled, tense, ready to explode with rage and fear. But as he rounded the last tent, his blood instead froze, petrifying him in place. There stood the beast who had been summoned. The woman – the vampire – whose name, apparently, was Kelly Darkhaven.

“Evening.” Kelly murmered. Adrian only narrowed his eyes. The fear was beginning to subside, and anger boiled up. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. Luckily, he could hear the steady footfalls of Arahim coming down the path behind him.

Kelly rebuked him playfully for his lack of manners. Adrian tried to hold his voice steady as he replied. “I’m sorry. You killed our kin and left their broken bodies in the dust to rot. Did you deserve a more polite response?”

“Be careful what you accuse,” Kelly chided.

“Accuse?!” Adrian’s hand trembled on the hilt of his blade. “We left a summons for the beast who killed our loved ones and left them littering the ground like garbage, and you responded. And here you stand! We did not put your name to the request!”

Adrian felt a calming hand upon his shoulder. Arahim stood steadily next to him, the silent plea to stand down communicated without words. Adrian took a slow breath and tried to compose himself.

“I didn’t say that I didn’t do it. But I didn’t say I did.” Kelly stood smirking at the two.

Arahim, blade sheathed, held up his torch. “You have come to answer the accusation.”

Kelly feigned a smile and gestured off into the woods. “I came across the places where your people were murdered, but the bodies were gone.”

Arahim nodded. “One of ours buried our own.”

Kelly continued, “You can see for yourself, I placed an ankh and a rose where each was killed.”

“Really?” Adrian seethed. “I’d like to see that. Please, take us to see these holy artifacts.”

Kelly ignored his request. “I would have buried them myself but…” She trailed off.

“But you were too full?” Adrian prickled. His anger was rising again.

Arahim spoke, extending his hand to block Adrian as he tried a step toward the vampire. “We are not here to negotiate. Minoc is ours now. If you are caught here, you will be killed. Anyone who gives you aid or nourishment will be hung.”

Adrian looked to his cousin's face. Arahim's eyes glimmered darkly, and there was a note in his voice that Adrian had not heard in a very long time. At last. So you DO feel emotions like the rest of us.

Kelly sniffed indignantly and turned toward the city. “I’ll be in Minoc. It’s MY city. You aren’t welcome.”

Arahim tried to stop her, but she would hear nothing more. She sauntered into the shadows toward the Minoc.

Adrian, astonished with the ridiculous response, looked again to Arahim. “What, is Minoc a clubhouse now? No boys allowed?”

But the dark fire within his cousin still burned hotly. Arahim faced Adrian, the gears still turning in his head. “Now, we ride to Umbra.”

[Adrian Bishop]

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Everywhere he turned, decrees were popping up on guildhouse bulletin boards, the bank, even the mage shop. Dusty old scribes sat diligently copying the messages letter for letter, stroke for stroke. Adrian read them all as best he could, once he muddled through the epic titles gracing the names of those who sent them.

At what cost do we buy this help? He couldn't help feeling a gnawing in the pit of his stomach. They had only gone to the Order to inform them that their aiding the murderer would strain relations. How did it come to this...barrage...of notices and decrees? And what if the Order tried to take control of Minoc once Kelly was out of the picture?

One section of a decree caught his eye as he looked over the shoulder of the scribe copying it.

Quote:

We go to kill the "Lords" of the land. The Cappadocians. They will die at our blades, and the Gypsies will live free. Free from fear. Free from harm. Free to be Gypsies.

His eyes misted over, stinging and reminding him of how little sleep he'd had since this began. Free, he thought. Maybe it's worth the risk. Only time will tell.