High Adventure: a Fugitive Passion

HIGH ADVENTURE: A FUGITIVE PASSION

By R. Joshua Holland

CHAPTER ONE: Wanted Men

The Glorious Empire of Connelar was losing the war over the eastern frontier.

The Free Kingdom of North Dramore had remained loyal to the empire, refusing to join with the Dramicine when the Eastern Province declared its sovereignty eighty years ago. Now, as the new Lord Dramore, Archimere, wages a war of conquest to reclaim all of the Free Kingdoms of the Contested Lands, the Northern Duke is forced to surrender his title and city to one of Archimere's lieutenants. . .

The graying brick walls of Fort Valor loomed high above the gathered soldiers, as flag-bearing squires rode out of the gates, ahead of Duke Herik Rockgut. A man of mixed heritage, he wore a Wilderman's name, and a Connelarian's title, the ideal king for a land shared by several races. He was handsome, but graying much like his city's walls, and in the end had proved unable to hold his people together after the Imperial Legions withdrew to neighboring Gatefield, and the army of North Dramore was crushed under Archimere's heel. It was due to public outcry that the Duke now rode his horse down to meet with General Crath, to surrender his land. The Sheriff, who answered to public elections, had been quite clear as to what the consequences would be if the Duke didn't go along with it. Exile in the empire, or even house-arrest in the capital of Dramore, was vastly preferable to execution-by-angry-mob.

Crath, like all of Archimere's top lieutenants, was of the purest Dramicine breeding, and therefore typical of that enigmatic race. Their eyes had a deep epicanthic fold, producing a slanted appearance, very much like that possessed by the Tanjuk peoples of the western Desolation. Their skulls were long and tapered, and both their men and women tended towards wispy, light-colored hair, in yellows, whites, silvers and grays. The men seemed incapable of growing a full beard, at best achieving long mustaches and goatees. They had dark yellow-brown pigmentation, just a few shades lighter than that of Guleans, but were short and stocky in build. Dramicine culture was very old and ingrained, and they tended to prefer the sciences over arcane studies. Their mastery over steam-powered machinery had given them the decisive edge during the war, and two of their track-mounted siege-engines stood outside of Fort Valor's walls, smoke billowing up from steel chimney-stacks.

General Crath, surrounded by his retinue, stood grinning beside a small wooden table, standing in the middle of a field of trampled grass. Two chairs sat opposite each other next to the table, which was draped in a royal-velvet cover. An ink-pot was serving as a makeshift paperweight, holding down the formal document's of North Dramore's surrender to Greater Dramore.

Duke Rockgut swung out of his saddle, and approached the General, who bowed to him formally, gesturing for the Duke to take a seat. Once they were sitting across from each other, they took turns signing the document, and then stood to shake hands.

To Herik's great surprise, Crath immediately ordered, "Seize him!", as soon as he had let go of his hand. Dramicine guards grabbed him rudely, and dragged him away from the table. He was too stunned to protest, until a line of soldiers parted, revealing a chopping block, and an ax-wielding man wearing an ominous black hood.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Herik demanded, but no one answered. As he was forced over the block, head pinned down by powerful hands, he heard Crath address the surrounding crowds.

"Citizens of Fort Valor, and all attendant lands! With this treaty, all the lands that bear the name of our Lord Dramore are finally as one! All Hail Archimere, Long Live the King!"

The crowded masses roared back, "LONG LIVE THE KING!" The ax dropped. Duke Herik departed the world of the living, with the cheers of his people ringing in his ears.

Within minutes, warrants were issued for the arrest of his son, Nirik, who now faced a stunningly brief tenure as Duke. Nirik was seventeen, well-educated, and charming- he was already proving to be popular amongst North Dramore's young ladies. He favored his wilder-woman mother's looks over all; slight of build, long-legged, angular features with a narrow chin. Hazel eyes set beneath thin brows, and dishwater-blonde hair, grown out to shoulder length in the style currently favored amongst Connelar's young lords, typically worn in a ponytail tied at the base of the neck. He preferred wearing darker colors, blues being his favorite, and dressed in his best coat, and powder blue trousers, he stood at his window in the high central tower of Fort Valor. He had watched his father head down to sign the treaty, and could hear the triumphant roaring of the masses, but couldn't make out any specific details. He saw a large procession come through the gates, and push its way up the city's main avenue, towards the tower, and as he leaned over the sill, trying to get a good look at the flying pennons, a frantic knocking started up on his chamber door.

He pulled back, and turned half-away from the window, "Who is it?"

There was no reply, just the continued knocking. Sighing dramatically, he crossed the room, and pulled open the heavy door. A commoner woman stood behind it, with her fist raised, caught mid-knock. She looked to be in her thirties, and wore a layered dress in yellows and greens. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black, and her complexion revealed a strong Connelarian ancestry. Nirik couldn't place her, but she seemed somehow familiar, as if he had seen her in passing. He leaned through the doorway, looking down the corridor, but couldn't see any sign of the Household guards. He smiled nervously at the woman, "Can I help you, miss..."

The woman stepped in close to him, and clutched his sleeve, "My name is Hurra, I..." she hesitated, glancing down the corridor, "I know your father, he told me to come and get you if anything happened..."

Nirik shook his head, trying to make sense of it, pushing her hand away from his sleeve, "'If anything happened'," he echoed dumbly. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him from the doorway.

"They'll kill you if you stay, but I know a way out of the city," she went on without explaining. Even through the thick stone walls of the tower, the rumble of the crowds outside could be faintly heard.

Nirik's thoughts started to make sense again, "Wait a minute, what's going on?"

Hurra grimaced, and explained as they ran, sticking to the barest details, "The Duke was just executed, and the Dramicine have entered the city. There is a warrant for your arrest and execution, and your father wants me to smuggle you out of the city."

It didn't make sense to him, "If father has been executed, then how exactly do you know what he wants?"

They rounded a corner, ducking into a stairwell, "He came to me as soon as Sheriff Rellec brought him the peoples' demands. If the Dramicine had acted honorably, this wouldn't be necessary, but we both know how well the Dramicine fare on that score." Emerging into the lower kitchens, Hurra pulled Nirik past chefs and kitchen drudges, and into the chilled chamber where they stored salted meats.

"Just where in the Twin-Hells are you taking me?"

Reaching the far end of the chamber, Hurra began to push against one of the large stone slabs forming the walls with her shoulders. It gave way surprisingly smoothly, revealing a dark tunnel, "Herik showed this to me years ago, it's how he sneaks me into the tower after hours, when his wife is asleep."

Nirik grabbed her arm before she could duck into the passage, forcing her to turn and look at him, "You're father's mistress!" he accused.

Hurra laughed, "Only one of many, I'm afraid, but I dare say I was his favorite... Now follow!" she ordered sternly, and Nirik followed her into the narrow passage. What other choice did he have?

After several twists and turns, the tunnel deposited them in a side alley several blocks away from the tower, where the masses were gathering. Hurra pressed Nirik back against a wall, as a crowd of city-folk rushed by the mouth of the alley. She looked at the young duke appraisingly, "You're going to need a disguise- we'll never get you through the city looking like that, everybody will recognize you!"

Nirik looked around wildly, the reality of his situation only now settling in on him, "What are we going to do? Where can we go?"

Hurra didn't take long to consider, "I know a place," she looked him over again, "And I may be able to do something about your appearance while we're there. Follow me!"

Doing his best to keep his face hidden, Nirik followed her. Their destination was a third of the way across the city, but by sticking to the alleys and side streets as best they could, they were able to avoid running into anyone. They reached the outskirts of Fort Valor's slums, and an innocuous looking stone building, which was their destination. From outside, it could have been one of the city's numerous apartment buildings, but Nirik was instead looking upon the city's most notorious brothel.

None of the girls paid any attention to Hurra, as she breezed into the lobby, with a new client on her arm. She lead him down a hall, and into a small dressing room. Sitting him down on a stool, she promised to return shortly, and locked him in.

"What in the hells am I doing here?" Nirik asked himself, looking around the cluttered room. A large mirror covered most of a wall, over a long counter covered in make-ups and powders and vials of perfume. Boxes full of old clothes cluttered the floor, and a small dresser stood in the corner, its drawers half-open, more clothes overflowing out of the sides. Just a little over an hour earlier, he had been wishing his father good-luck as he went off to go sign the surrender treaty, and now he was halfway across the city, sitting in a prostitute's dressing room! He hadn't even had a chance to see his mother, Hurra had rushed him out of the tower faster than he could think.

Yet- he could sense that Hurra was being forthright with him, if a bit curt. He saw the way the crowds surged towards the tower, and the banners of Lord Dramore flying above their heads... His father's mistress was right, he had to get out of the city if he hoped to survive.

He tried to make sense of it all. The people of North Dramore had seemed loyal enough, when the Legions were still fortifying the region, and North Dramore's army still stood strong, but after Archimere's own regiment trapped the main body of the army against the feet of the Dram Mountains, slaughtering them to the man, the citizens of the semi-autonomous kingdom turned viciously against their imperial allies, welcoming the Dramicine invaders, and using imperial democracy to undermine the Duke.

Nirik may have enjoyed knowing that Sheriff Rellec was being executed at that very moment, a sop to the crowd to keep them pacified until the Duke's son could be found. But he did not know, just sat and stared at the boxes of clothing. He heard a rattle of keys at the door, and tensed up, relaxing when he saw it was Hurra, accompanied by a young flat-chested redhead, in a gaudy pink dress. The frilly sort of thing that only peasant trash would find appealing. The two women crowded in with him, in the already claustrophobic space.

The redhead girl looked down at Nirik, "This is Herik's son?"

Hurra nodded, leaning over to the make up counter, poking around the bottles, "Yes, he is. Now get undressed!"

"Really, right here? Shouldn't we be up in one of the rooms?"

Hurra shot her a stern look, "Just give me your dress, and keep your panties on." She looked askance at Nirik, "You too, take your clothes off, quickly!"

Nirik shifted around on the stool, so he could get at the right angle to unbuckle his belt, seeing that the redhead was already slipping out of her ruffled dress. "What-" Hurra turned to him, and started unbuttoning his shirt while he finished kicking his pants and shoes off.

She glanced down with her eyes, "Your briefs too. Fryrin, could you please see if you can find something that'll fit him in the bottom drawer?"

He tried to look over his shoulder to see what she was doing, but Hurra grabbed his chin, and forced him to look back at her, "Never mind her, just focus on what you're doing." Blushing, he shucked his briefs, and then held up his arms as Hurra pulled off his shirt. He was now completely naked, seated between the two women. "Stand up," she then ordered, and he winced, trying to stop himself from getting an erection. Fryrin started handing things over to Hurra.

Protesting once he saw what Hurra was planning, the two women moved him about as they dressed him. They strapped a brazier on him, rolled dark stockings up his legs, clipping them to a garter belt, and after making him slip into a pair of lacy silk panties, they helped him struggle into the Fryrin's atrocious dress. Hurra pushed him back down to the stool, and he could feel Fryrin messing with his hair, while Hurra rushed to put some makeup on him. Eyeshadow, a slight blush to his cheeks, and a pale lipstick, and she was done. Nirik blinked when he looked in the mirror, and felt an unwanted stirring at the sight. He would have gladly bedded the young lady that now stared back at him.

He glared up at Hurra, "You can't be serious!"

She folded her arms, looking down at him like he was a young child, "By now, the whole city is up in arms looking for you. They will think to look for a young man in disguise, but they may not think to look too closely at a pair of prostitutes."

Her reasoning was sound, but he didn't like it. "Is this what father wanted you to do?"

Hurra shook her head, opening the door to take a look around, "No, he just told me to get you out of the city. I'm improvising as we go, right now. Once we're out of Fort Valor, we'll have more time to plan your escape in better detail." She patted Fryrin on the arm, and motioned Nirik to follow her. He did so reluctantly, feeling extremely self-conscious about how he was dressed. At the last moment, he ducked back, and grabbed his blue coat, wrapping it around his shoulders as he hurried to catch up with Hurra.

Her plan was working- so far. Making their way calmly towards the smaller east-gate, they had passed right by two Dramicine patrols, without so much as a "good-day". He felt ridiculous, but was forced to admit that no one would expect to find him dressed up as a woman, let alone in such tacky clothing. Hurra held his arm by the crook of the elbow, and by all appearances, they were just two friends walking down the street.

As the neared the east-gate, Nirik could see that the great iron doors were sealed, but Hurra was already veering their course away, heading to a small wooden door built right into the base of the wall, several hundred yards away from the well-guarded gateway. Hurra gave a peculiar knock on the door, and after half a minute, a small panel slid back, and a pair of eyes looked out at them.

"Hurra! What are you doing here at this hour? Haven't you heard, the Duke has been killed! The Captain wants us to keep the wall locked down until he can determine who has legal authority over the city." Said the voice that went with the eyes.

Hurra pleaded convincingly, "That's why I'm here! You guys know me, we've done a lot of business together... I'm afraid to stay out on the streets, conquering armies never pay for sex, so I was hoping you could let me in, and I'll keep you all entertained until things settle down a bit."

The man behind the door seemed to think it over, "Yeah, we know you, Hurra, and I do still owe you one for that party, but..." he glanced at Nirik, who stood staring at his stockinged feet, "I don't know who this is, and I do have orders, you know."

Hurra shrugged it off casually, "Oh, her? That's just my niece, Ni-" she hesitated, "-lene. She's not in my line of business, but my sister would kill me if I let anything happen to her while she is here, so I brought her along. Come on, Dario, just let us in!"

The eyes glanced back and forth between them, "Damn it, Hurra! If the Captain ends up chewing me out over this..." They could hear a bolt being thrown back, and the door swung open. Dario, a stocky wall of Connelarian muscle, beckoned them inside, "I want first shot!"

Hurra, and the newly renamed Nilene, hurried inside, and Dario closed the door behind them, throwing the bolt. They found themselves in a small stone room, lit by wall-mounted torches, which was but a mere alcove along the long network of corridors that ran the length of the city walls. A small desk with a single wooden chair stood near the door- Dario's duty station. He stood behind them, looking them both over hungrily. Hurra smiled at him, "You want it now?"

He nodded, and she knelt down in front of him, reaching up to fiddle with the fly of his pants. Nirik watched, turning beet red, as Hurra fished the guard's manhood out, and took it into her mouth.

He had had it done to him, of course, but had never seen it from a third-person vantage. Dario winked at him lewdly, and Nirik finally averted his gaze, blushing madly, hoping his own swelling wouldn't be noticeable underneath the ruffled dress.

Finished with her task, Hurra stood back up, and put an arm around Nirik's shoulder, "Look, Dario, I really don't like to think of what might happen to Nilene, here, if we stick around. Do you think you could slip us out to the other side of the wall?"

Still trying to get his pants back on straight, Dario, answered absently, "Oh, yeah, sure thing Hurra." He grabbed up his keys off the desk, and lead them out into the corridor. They followed it for several dozen yards, making a sharp left turn, before reaching another alcove.

"Hey, Marand!" He addressed the guard seated at an identical desk, "Just passing through." The guard waved at him without looking up from the book he was reading, and Dario lead the two of them over to another door. It opened out into the dry scrub-land north of the city, and with a final thanks, Hurra and Nirik hurried off into the rugged countryside, Dario bolting the door after watching them go.

Having personally inspected every level of the central tower, General Crath descended to address the gathered masses, from the top of the great stairs below the tower doors. Dramic Knights formed a line along the bottom step, using pikes to hold the crowd at bay. The acoustics of the buildings surrounding the public square at the foot of the tower, were such designed to carry his voice across the motley assortment of citizens, mercenaries, and soldiers from at least two armies.

"Good Citizens!" he began, with his arms outspread for attention, "Young Lord Nirik is still at large, and it is imperative that he be captured, to ensure a smooth transitions as-"

Someone yelled out in the crowd, "LONG LIVE DUKE NIRIK!"

Others began to take up the call- General Crath stammering mid-sentence, as the fickle crowd buzzed with anger, edging closer to the stairs. They had been denied their sacrifice, but they could always find another...

As the line of pikemen was overpowered, General Crath turned, and scrambled to open the doors. As he was scooped up, and carried off to his fate, soldiers and civilians began to clash, in a spreading wave of violence which soon gripped the city. By the next morning, the Captain of the city walls would find himself in control of Fort Valor.

Hurra didn't let them stop and rest until sundown, and they hunkered down in a shallow fold of rugged land. Sitting on a rock, Nirik rubbed his feet, which were terribly sore from walking barefoot, "I wish I had grabbed my shoes, instead of this coat!"

Hurra looked over at him, "I didn't think you'd fare too well wearing high heels, and the shoes you had on would've stood out like a sore thumb with that dress. We'll just have to see what we can do about it when we reach the next village."

Nirik frowned, poking a finger through a hole in his stocking, "You didn't happen to bring any other clothes with you, by chance?"

She shook her head, "I didn't even bring my purse! What you see is what we have on us."

"Do we even have any money?"

Hurra shrugged, "I have a few coins stashed on me, but not much." She gave him a knowing look, "I seldom really need it, most men are willing to accept favors for just about anything."

Nirik watched the stars coming out, wishing they at least had a fire. "I expect I'll be waking up any moment now."

Hurra moved over to sit next to him, clasping her hands together, elbows on her knees, "You'd best break yourself of that mindset. We have a tough road ahead of us, you'll need to be thinking clearly, not trying to hide yourself from the truth."

"And what is the truth?" he asked rhetorically.

Hurra chose to answer anyway, "The truth is, that your father is dead, you are no longer a noble, and you had best work on improving your act, Nilene, if you hope to make it safely across North Dramore."

"Are we going to Connelar?" He asked, refusing to rise to her baiting.

Hurra shook her head in the negative, "We'd never make it. It is a constant war-zone between here and the frontier of East Connelar. Our best bet is to strike east, and cut across Farthestar to reach Thunderhead." Thunderhead was now the only port on the Freezing Sea still in Imperial hands. "There, we can seek transport to Yviin, and from there head up into the empire." She paused, "We could, theoretically, head north-west and try for Moss, but the Knights of Garwain are said to be holding the border against refugees."

"Cowards," Nirik- Nilene accused, "If King Ptvr had committed Garwain to the war, Lord Dramore would never have been able to push this far north."

"Don't think too ill of the man, he has his own people to consider, and wildermen along his northern borders to worry about."

Nilene scowled, unwilling to concede the point. Hurra studied him thoughtfully, "I know you've had a lot to take in today, this can't be easy on you..."

Nilene shivered, hugging the coat around his shoulders, "It just all happened so fast, I-" He tilted his head back, staring up at the vault of stars. "My father is dead! And I'm sitting here with his damned mistress, while my mom is having gods-know-what happen to her. What am I doing here?"

Hurra hugged him to her, patting his shoulder comfortingly, "Don't worry too much over her, the Dramicine don't hold women in very high regard- while they would think it appropriate to sever all male lines of noble blood, noble women are likely to be ignored entirely."

He sniffled, and rubbed his nose, deciding to change the subject, lest it spiral into a black depression, "So, how long did you know the Duke?"

"Are you sure you want to know about that?" she asked with some concern.

Nilene shrugged, "Why not? If we're going to be traveling companions, we ought to get acquainted with each other."

"Fine," she agreed, "but I'll tell you as we walk, we've lingered here too long."

North Dramore was a rough country, touching the shores of the Freezing sea, and sweeping south all the way to the foot of the High Dram Mountains, (the "High Drams"). Its economy was mainly based on fishing and whaling, for the land itself was of little use to farmers, and was only good for raising the hardiest of domesticated beasts. After two years of war, most of its inhabitants were displaced, or dead, and the folded terrain provided countless places for soldiers, mercenaries, and bandits to hide and prepare ambushes. The harbor town at Broadside Bay had been destroyed, and with the surrender of Fort Valor, the kingdom of North Dramore was no more.

This was the fault of the Legions, a direct result of their decision to pull back and concentrate their forces on holding Gatefield. It was a shear miracle that Thunderhead remained under imperial control. Isolated on a wedge of coast to the east of Farthestar, Thunderhead was under a constant state of siege, and had become one of the most vital pieces of real-estate in that last year of the first cycle of war with Dramore.

Built tall upon an out-thrust of limestone cliffs, the white walled city commanded an impressive view- on a clear day, one could see all the way to Snowreach Horn, over the border with Dramore. Huge caves had been partially excavated out of the bottom of the sea cliffs, converted into huge underground docking facilities- protected from the harsh storms of the Freezing Sea. Several Legion galleons kept a constant vigil off the coastal waters, stopping any ship that approached the harbor. A sleek Imperial sloop, named the Sea-Horse, passed its inspection, and maneuvered in to dock in the cavern harbor. Stars were scattered across the sky, and the moon hung low and full over the sea, while rolling waves crashed against the cliffs, echoing in the cavern mouths with a sound like thunder, vibrating the hull of the ship. Standing near the prow, Colonel Roddinklerk, the Earl of Trienvarie, commented to his assistant, "So- that's why they call this place Thunderhead!" He worked his jaw comically, trying to equalize the pressure in his ears.

Standing to his left and slightly behind him, his assistant, Lieutenant Mirema Korova tried not to smile. She was from Old Connelar, short, yet strong, and had close-cropped brown hair. Wearing the black chainmail of Legion officers, (Roddinklerk's was blue), she was covered by a dark brown cloak, and glanced down at a clip-board in her hand, "Do you wish to make any final additions to our itinerary before we dock, Colonel?"

Roddinklerk stroked his mustache, "I believe everything should be in order, Lieutenant. Just make sure to schedule an appointment with Marshal Lorthinthral for this evening. What is the local time, anyway?"

"Nineteen-Thirty-Six," Mirema replied, after glancing at her pocket-watch. The legions had long employed clocks, but the miniaturized pocket-sized versions were a Dramicine innovation, quickly adopted by Imperial Engineers. The sloop began to slip inside the mouth of the westernmost cave, and they beheld one of the less-known wonders of the world.

Instead of a rough sea-cavern, filled with boats, Roddinklerk was surprised to find himself in a vast open space, with orderly rows of stone wharfs protruding from a broad, paved shelf. The walls and ceilings were paneled with dark wood, and massive chandeliers, looking much like iron claws, gave off enough light to see quite clearly, supplemented by torches and lanterns where needed. Switchback stairs lead up the walls, where windows glowed with yellow light. There were four such caverns, all in a row, connected by large sea-doors, which were normally kept closed. Sandwiched between the Caverns and the walled castle poised atop the cliffs, was a whole series of subterranean levels, containing warehouses, shops, inns, apartments, and facilities for ship-building over the eastern cavern. In truth, the ground level castle was but a small part of a largely underground city.

The sloop was pulled in between two thin piers, surrounded on both sides by huge war-ships. The crew of the Sea-Horse busied themselves securing the vessel, and immediately set about unloading the cargo she carried. Emerging from below deck, came Roddinklerk's men, an elite team of Legionnaires and Knights- even a few particularly skilled mercenaries. Since he was a noble, Roddinklerk had received an officer's commission when he re-enlisted with the Legion. And as the Earl of a particularly prosperous town, he was able to finance his own missions, giving him a free hand in the war.

Roddinklerk worked closely with the Imperial Rangers, leading his team on high-risk, high-value missions. They had been taking some R&R in Yviin, after spending months in the Shielding Mountains, sabotaging the Dramicine war effort, and while mingling with some enlisted men at a port-side tavern, he had been horrified to learn of the Marshals' decision to pull out of North Dramore. He chartered the first ship he could find that was willing to make the dangerous voyage around Dramore's long coastlines, and his men set sail that very evening.

It had been a harrowing month at sea, having to sail non-stop, just within sight of land, skirting the very rim of the world. The worst of it had been the long stretch in the Great Stormy Sea, which earned its name tenfold over. Three weeks of constant wind and rain, if the storm surges had pushed them the wrong way, they could have been forced into the endless oceans that exist beyond the world's edge. Fortunately, the Saints were on Roddinklerk's side, and the waves pushed them constantly towards the coast, which they followed doggedly until finally rounding Snowreach Horn, to enter the Freezing Sea.

As soon as the ship was secured to its pier, and the loading ramp lowered, Roddinklerk stepped down from the ship, with Mirema in his shadow. Thunderhead was a true Imperial City, not just an allied kingdom that shared legal structures, like North Dramore. Legion facilities had been built into the walls at the back of the broad shelf. Mess Halls, Armories, a Post Station... Roddinklerk spotted what he looked for- the Officer's Lounge. Knowing where to find him, Mirema hurried off to take care of Roddinklerk's affairs, while he strode over to the bar.

He ordered a local strain of whiskey, and leaned against the bar, studying the crowd. Officers of various ranks and ages- men and women, clustered in small groups, drinking, smoking, and engaged in excited conversation. It didn't take him long to pick up the gist of it.

Spotting a young blonde wilder-woman, who had an unobtrusive but attentive look that Mirema also had- the look of a quality secretary, Roddinklerk sauntered over towards her smoothly, introducing himself, "Excuse me, Lieutenant, I'm Colonel Roddinklerk, with Red Battalion. I just pulled in to harbor, and have been out of touch with the rumor-mill for weeks- you wouldn't by chance be willing to let me buy you a drink, and fill me in on what I've been missing?"

The blonde, who wore her hair about twice as long as Mirema, smiled after looking him over, "Well, sir, I've only been here a few weeks myself, but I could tell you what I've been hearing."

He smiled back at her, and guided her over to a booth against a wall, gesturing to a waiter to attend them when he had a moment. "That will be more than fine, Lieutenant-"

"Jurist, sir. Lieutenant Revee Jurist, with the Naval Division. I'm Captain Davenal's treasurer."

Roddinklerk nodded, "A pleasure to meet you, Jurist." The waiter appeared, and they placed their orders.

The young Lieutenant cocked her head at him, "Likewise, sir. So, what was the last thing you heard, before setting sail?"

Roddinklerk didn't have to think long at all about it, it had been filling his thoughts for weeks, "The Marshals deciding to pull out of North Dramore. How has that turned out?"

She tapped a lacquered fingernail on the booth's narrow table, "Oh, that whole thing. You can probably imagine. Three days after the Legions withdrew, Lord Dramore smashed the Northern Army to bits, and we only just received word that Duke Herik has agreed to sign a surrender order."

Roddinklerk pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed deeply, "Giving Dramore a port on the Freezing Sea, and totally isolating Thunderhead in the bargain... Fools. Sometimes I think it'd be better if the Rangers just-"

"Ahem," Mirema coughed into her hand, appearing seemingly out of nowhere at his elbow, "You're in luck, Colonel. If we had arrived any later, we'd have missed Lorthinthral entirely. He is taking a trip to Farthestar, to negotiate with the Sea-Folk colonists, and has already boarded his ship. He is willing to see you, but we will have to hurry."

Young Revee seemed genuinely disappointed, and Roddinklerk gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, "That's life in the service, Lieutenant... maybe we'll cross paths again someday." He got up to leave, Mirema watching him impatiently.

"Maybe..." She replied, watching him go.

"Red Battalion. I imagine Harmond Rade sent you up here? What does he want me to do?"

Marshal Lorthinthral was a slim man, with black curly hair, and a trimmed beard. He was the chief officer in the Legion's Naval Division. He stood in the cabin of the warship's captain, arms crossed as he regarded Roddinklerk. He had crawled up through the ranks the hard way, and had little patience with either commissioned nobles, or Rangers. And a commissioned noble employed by the rangers...

Roddinklerk smiled at him smugly, "Actually, Marshal, I had just wanted to pay you a courtesy call, and see if I can get briefed about the current situation in North Dramore, which is where my team is bound."

Lorthinthral narrowed his gaze, "North Dramore probably doesn't even exist anymore, by now. They're surrendering."

"I've heard," Roddinklerk stroked his mustache, "I also hear the Northern Army has been obliterated. What I want to know is what sort of forces currently occupy the country?"

"Just what are you planning on doing, Colonel?" The Marshal asked suspiciously. Roddinklerk just grinned, and didn't reply. Lorthinthral scoffed, "Typical."

The Earl turned serious, "So, what is the disposition of North Dramore's forces?"

The Marshal hung his head, "We know Lord Dramore is there himself, and has five whole regiments with him. He only has a token force in Gatefield, just enough to keep the Marshals occupied. It would seem Archimere is more interested in gaining direct access to the Freezing Sea, rather than control of the roads into East Connelar."

Roddinklerk quipped, "What a surprise."

Lorthinthral frowned at the interruption, "Besides Archimere's regiments, there are an uncounted number of mercenary companies and bandit parties- and it's damn difficult telling them apart. Rumors persist about splintered cells of survivors from the Northern Army, but none have made it this far east to confirm their existence. And the citizenry has turned against us. The report about Duke Herik's surrender claims that it is at the behest of the local Sheriff, acting for the people."

Roddinklerk rolled his eyes, and raised his hands, exclaiming, "Democracy!"

Lorthinthral huffed his agreement, "Democracy indeed. A republic may be the only way to preserve the empire, if the Rangers fail to find an Emperor."

Roddinklerk shot the Sea Marshal a sharp look. "Rade has someone in mind, but Emperors are not crafted overnight." he felt he may be revealing too much, but this heretical notion of rule-by-senate had begun to flourish since the war began. It troubled the Rangers greatly, and Roddinklerk had himself been involved with burning out a warehouse full of dissident literature. "Besides, what if the people do as they have done in North Dramore, and chose to have Archimere as their master?"

Lorthinthral frowned. The Marshal had no answer to that.

The Midnight hour approached and raced by, and as they crossed the difficult countryside, Nilene did indeed learn a little bit more than he would have wanted too about his family. After he had grown old enough that his schooling occupied most of his days, the Duke and Duchess Yior determined the time had come to have a second child. Herik prayed to the saints, and Yior sacrificed many a ram, but they had no luck kindling a new life. They sought clerics from Moss, specialists in fertility rites, but after the second miscarriage, Duke Herik gave up. A wedge had been driven between him and lovely Yior, and while they remained cordial to each other for Nirik's sake, they had become married only in name.

This is when Herik began to frequent the brothel, and when he first met Hurra. He had already sampled several of the girls, and would continue to do so, even after he first lay with her, but for reasons Hurra could never quite fathom, the Duke always seemed to return to her- time and again. She wasn't the youngest, or the prettiest, or the most refined, but he seemed to enjoy her company, spending about as much time talking to her as he did trying to get into her panties, and he never showed her any favoritism when it came to gifts and payment.

Instead, they developed a unique friendship over the months and years to come. Around the time Nirik was ten, Duchess Yior had taken a sabbatical to the pagan sanctuaries in Moss and was gone for well over half a year. Herik brought her to the central tower, and showed her the secret way in. Several weeks into her furtive stay, the Duke had been called away on urgent business to the border, and he had the audacity to have her watch over his son for a few days-

"That's where I know you from!" Nilene exclaimed excitedly.

Hurra nodded her head, "I was wondering if you remembered me. It was quite a long time ago."

They were coming up on a ridge of earth, topped with scraggly trees with twisted, barren limbs. Hurra paused for a second, to wipe sweat from her forehead with The back of her hand, "We'll rest for the night once we get up to those trees. They'll provide us some cover, while the ridge will give us a good view of anything approaching."

Nilene was ready to stop right then and there. Her- his feet were incredibly sore from walking effectively barefoot for so many miles. But he trudged on, following Hurra as she stumbled her way up the ridge. She reached the treeline well before he did, and looked down into the gully beyond.

"Oh, hells..." she said in a shocked voice, "Quick, RUN! Now!"

Nilene didn't wait to be told twice, he spun around on his heel, and began to run back the way they had came. He could hear Hurra struggling behind him, and he stepped his speed up a notch, but ended up going far too fast for the steep incline. Stumbling over the rocky ground in the dark, he fell, pink dress flying up around him, and struck the inclined earth, tumbling several yards before reaching level ground.

His dress was torn, stockings ripped to shreds, and he now had several bad cuts and bruises from where he had struck protruding rocks. He tried to get up, and was on his hands and knees when he heard an accented voice speak from the ridge above, "Don't just let her get away! Someone get down there and grab her!"

Several mercenaries of assorted breeds raced down the hill, and small stones began to fall around Nilene. He didn't waste time looking back at them. With a surge of adrenaline, he leaped to his feet, and raced off, curving towards the north. He was young, and he was in good shape, and he was fast.

Very fast. The lumbering mercenaries had no chance of catching up with her, but to his misfortune, one of them was crafty enough to find a way around that.

There was a whirring sound racing up from behind, and something wrapped itself painfully around her- his- ankle, causing him to fall crashing to the ground. Nilene heard footsteps approaching, and a voice saying, "Good shot, Toba!" Hands grabbed at him, but there was a shuffle of feet, and the hands were pushed away.

"Hands off, Gevane! I caught the wench- she's mine!", came a second voice, sinister in it's sound. There were sounds of renewed struggle, and Nilene dared to roll over.

She- he saw two men struggling hand to hand. The larger one was a wilderman, with a shaved head and thick arms. The other was a scrawny Teljuk- nomads from the western Desolation, who displayed a strength that defied his size. Gevane was slowly pushed back, and with a foot hooked suddenly behind his ankle, Toba managed to spill him to the ground on his back. The Teljuk man brandished a wicked looking knife, as Gevane moved to get up. "You know Yellsin's rules! I caught her, I own her! If you want to use her, we can talk later mayhaps, but right now you had better keep your filthy hands off of her!"

Gevane didn't reply, but his expression showed his grudging surrender. Toba sheathed the knife in his belt, and helped the wilderman back up to his feet. "A wise decisio-"

Gevane sucker punched him, breaking the scrawny nomad's jaw. Stepping over his unconscious body, Gevane looked down at Nilene, and smiled lustfully, "Well, well, what do we have here?" He reached down, and grabbed the front of her dress in his fist, pulling her up to her feet. "What's your name, little darlin'?"

Her- his brain froze, he couldn't remember right at that moment. Gevane slapped her hard across the face, "I said, what's your name?"

"Ni-" she blinked, "Nilene?"

Gevane shoved her ahead of him, and grabbed a fistful of her hair, telling her through gritted teeth, "You had better learn quick to do what I say, Nilene. You belong to me, now."

He marched her back up the ridge, where his comrades stood watching them. Oh, did he have a surprise in store for him!

Nilene was terrified.

CHAPTER TWO: The Western Company

Nilene only caught a brief glimpse of Hurra, while the mercenaries marched them down a deepening ravine. As the stone walls grew higher, they lost the light of the moon, and all she could really see was the armored back of the Gulean soldier walking in front of her. Further back in line, Toba was being carried on a gurney, still senseless, but breathing. The narrow path they followed seemed to curve gently to the left, and ahead, it seemed as if they marched straight into a dead end.

It was a sharp turn in the path, it turned out, opening into a round sinkhole with a sandy floor. It was a mercenary base camp. There were tents for officers, and strategy meetings, and for the company's healers, and there were small campfires scattered all about, for the lower ranks. They had no horses or mules, only a few guard dogs. Everything was designed to be broken down and carried, which it frequently was. The Western Company never made the mistake of staying in one place too long.

The marching troop made its way to the open space at the center of the chamber, and a Tanjuk man- a civilized cousin of the Teljuk, strode out of the command tent, wearing a white cape over dull, battle-scarred steel armor. There was a large scar stretching from his temple back over his left ear, splitting his hairline. It was ragged, the result of a claw or horn, rather than any crafted blade. The men came to a stop and spread out, Gevane shoving Nilene down her knees in front of him.

The Gulean man stepped forward to greet the officer, "Commander Yellsin!" he saluted.

The caped officer waved for him to be at ease, "What did you find out, Mactar?"

"Sir, I am afraid it is much as you surmised. There is no employment to be found in Fort Valor. The people cheered when Crath executed the Duke, and less than an hour later, they lynched Crath in the public square. The fighting was still going fierce when we left. Most of the citizens have begun to rally to the name of Nirik, the Duke's son, who somehow escaped the city, but they don't stand a chance against the Dramicine, in the long run. I don't think there is much use returning to raid the city. It'll be well picked over before we could get there. I do, however, recommend we send out some men, to keep an eye out for Nirik. Crath issued a warrant for him, and even though the General is dead, it will still be valid. Lord Dramore is not going to want a local noble wandering around, starting trouble on his flanks."

Nilene blanched when she heard these words, staring at the ground in front of her, trying to will everyone from looking at her too closely. The commander, Yellsin, then asked, "What of the duchess?"

"Suicide." Mactar said bluntly. "At least, that's the story going around. They say she poisoned herself when the Duke was beheaded. I am more inclined to think that Crath had her killed, but I don't see how that matters much in either case. Dead is dead."

Yellsin sighed, looking around at the men. He frowned when he saw the gurney carrying Toba, and stepped past Mactar to look down at the unconscious man. His jaw was noticeably misaligned. "What happened to Toba, here?"

Mactar hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "Ask Gevane. He's the one who did it to him."

Yellsin moved over to stand in front of Gevane and Nilene. She stared at his armored boots. "Do you care to explain, soldier?"

Gevane tried not to stammer- Yellsin was a stern master. "Sir, I, we came across two women, sir, out in the country. Barhala caught the other one right off, but this one," he squeezed Nilene's shoulder, "tried to run. Me and Toba there chased her down, and I reached her first, but Toba pulled his knife on me." He shrugged, "So I cocked him one, good."

Yellsin looked back over at Toba, and scowled, "He knows the rules. You were in your rights." Yellsin reached down, and grabbed Nilene's chin, forcing her to look up at him as he inspected her. "A little flat-chested for my tastes, but she's still young. Pretty though," he observed. Gevane clenched his fists jealously.

He turned away from them, addressing Mactar, "You and your men get some rest. I'll have some things for you to do in the morning. I'll send a few scouts out to look for this Nirik."

Nilene was shaking when Gevane grabbed her by her hair, and dragged her back to her feet.

In a far, dark corner of the rounded, open-roofed cavern, Gevane tossed his pack to the sand, and released Nilene, who crumpled to the ground, exhausted. The wilderman hunkered down, and used a flint to set his campfire alight. Blowing on it to make sure the blaze caught true, he stood up, and began fumbling with the straps of his armor. She was startled when his breastplate hit the ground with a clang, and she looked up, to see him pull off his shirt. His torso was flabby and undefined, and he showed an overhang of paunch, which clashed with his rippling arms. He smiled down at her.

"Now, you're going to play nice now, aren't you, Nilene?"

She hesitated, but remembered how he reacted last time she didn't answer, "Yuh, Yes?"

"Good." he stepped closer, "Now sit up a bit..."

Nilene straightened her posture and realized with dawning horror what the mercenary intended, when he began fumbling with the front of his pants. Oh, Saints no! Nilene looked about wildly. There was no help coming. Hurra was who-knew where, probably facing similar circumstances, with far less drama. But-

If the mercenaries found out she was really a boy... They might realize who she really was.

She had had it done to her a few times- had watched Hurra do it earlier that day. Maybe... Maybe if she just did it and got it over with, the wilderman wouldn't want her to take her clothes off, and she could escape later.

Yellsin called in one of his most trusted men, second only to Mactar. Zalingy was a renegade Caravaner, thrown off the line for thieving from his own kind, something which was a strict taboo amongst that race of vagabond traders, who had no qualms about stealing from others. He had fallen in with Yellsin's Western Company back when they still worked in the Petty Kingdoms, and like many Caravaners, proved himself to be talented and versatile. Mactar's loyalty was without question- Guleans took their oaths very seriously, but Zalingy was as close as Yellsin came to having a friend.

It was early autumn, and Zalingy wore a thick fur cloak, as he was not native to such northern environs. He shaved his head, a common but by no means universal trend amongst the mercenaries. A large silver hoop dangled from an ear, elongating the lobe. Under the cloak, he wore a dark leather jerkin, and black denim pants. His boots were old, but well kept and comfortable, and he had a Gulean-made curved iron sword sheathed at his hip. The hilt was jeweled, and shaped to look like a serpent's head.

"Fort Valor is a bust." Yellsin began, "Mactar just returned-"

"I ran into him on the way over here." Zalingy commented.

"-With news." He frowned at the Caravaner, "Crath executed Duke Herik, and then managed to get himself lynched. The whole city is in an uproar, and I can only imagine what Lord Dramore is going to do when he learns of it. He is said to be intending to head back over the High Drams before winter hits, and he can't go home until North Dramore is sewn up."

Zalingy grinned, "So, what do you have in mind?" He knew Yellsin wouldn't have summoned him at this late hour over nothing.

"A way to possibly get into Lord Dramore's good graces. Duke Herik's son managed to slip out of the city. He's out here, somewhere, and I want you to go find him."

"If you were to present him personally, to Lord Dramore..." Zalingy was clever.

Yellsin smiled, "My reasoning exactly! See that it happens."

Zalingy saluted in a flippant manner, that would have earned anyone else in camp ten lashes, and strode out of the tent.

The Gods seemed to hold a grudge against the House of Rockgut. In some fashion, it wasn't quite as bad as Nilene imagined it would be, but it was utterly humiliating, and already her jaws were becoming sore. When first presented with Gevane's prick, some analytical part of her mind remarked that it looked much like he did, of average size and sturdy. Fearing it would taste of musk and urine, it instead tasted simply like skin- it wasn't all that different from the taste of a girl, just less wet.

But knowing what she was doing, having to play along as if she wasn't violating all her personal taboos... Finding herself thinking of himself as 'she'- That is what brought tears to Nilene's eyes.

She just wanted it to end, unable even to struggle with the wilderman's hands gripping the back of her head. It didn't seem to take this long, when Hurra had gone down on Dario- but Gevane seemed to possess a terrific stamina, that, or an incredible amount of patience.

Nilene didn't think she could do it anymore, the pain in her jaws had transformed into a gritting heat in all of her cheek muscles. Seemingly just in time, Gevane pulled out, and Nilene slumped back on her haunches, breathing raggedly. She- he, dammit! Looked up at him, and felt a cold chill when she saw the glazed look on his face. He wasn't finished with her!

Gevane swopped down upon her, crushing her to the sandy floor. He kissed her hard, and she groaned in shock, eyes widening. He moved, and started kissing his way down her neck, while pulling at the top of her ruined dress.

"No!" Nilene squeaked, but Gevane was expecting protests. With a hard yank, he pulled down the top of her dress, taking her bra along with it. He murmured excitedly upon seeing her completely flat chest, "Oh, you're younger than you look! I'll bet you're a virgin..." He was right, but not in the way in he thought at that stage.

He reached down, and pulled up her skirts, Nilene trying to push them back down unsuccessfully. He reached for her panties, and pulled them aside...

Gevane suddenly sat up, glaring down at Nilene, "Hells! You-!" he looked around, but there was no one close at hand to see them clearly. He clutched her throat, gripping tightly, and leaned in close to her, face-to-face. "Your companion... is she- like you?" He glanced down, indicating her male genitalia.

Trying to shake her head with his hand wrapped around her neck, Nilene husked, "No, she's normal, I-"

Gevane's grip bore down, choking off her voice, "If you tell anyone, anyone! I will kill you, do you understand?" Wildermen were known to be phobic about homosexuality of any stripe, despite their otherwise free-wheeling natures.

He eased his grip enough for her to rasp out, "Yes!"

To her surprise, he released her, and then bent in to kiss her again, while he pulled her panties off.

The oral sex would soon seem to be a pleasant memory, compared to what followed. Gevane kept Nilene pinned on her back, and he made her spread her legs, grabbing them when she didn't seem to get what he meant when he said "Open wide!" Grabbing her by the back of her upper legs, he pushed them up until her knees were pressed against her chest. He then grabbed one of her arms, and ordered her to hold her legs down like he had posed them. Wriggling his pants down to his ankles- he neglected to take off his boots, he then inched up close to her, and spat into his hand, rubbing it on his rigid limb.

Nilene found herself faced with a momentous Choice at that moment in time. In either hand it would be painful, but if she tried to resist what was about to happen, the pain would be all the more severe, and she might make the wilderman dangerously angry. Plus, the odds of her identity being discovered would go way up. If she played along, her humiliation would be complete, (or so she thought at that time), but she would at least buy herself some more time to escape.

In the end, what choice did she really have?

Once he had finally worked his way inside of her, Gevane did not pull out until the first light of dawn struck the sky. Not that it took that long for him to finish- he finished several times in fact. But after each climax, he would push himself all the way back in, and hold still for a long time, laying on top of her. Sometimes he would kiss her passionately, other times he would just hang his head down beside her's, panting until he could catch his breath. Regardless, after an indeterminate amount of time, (Nilene had lost all sense of it), he would start up again, moving in and out of her with a steady, relentless rhythm. The kissing felt very odd- Gevane would press his lips forcibly against hers, and pushed his tongue into her moth. She could feel a rough stubble grate against her skin, could taste alcohol and mutton on his breath. Nilene barely noticed it though, such was the pain that pierced her with every grunting thrust.

What began as a ripping, burning pain, slowly evolved into an itching ring of heat, and finally, as dawn rolled around, little more than a numb tugging sensation. When Gevane finally dismounted her, she lay there half-senseless, half-asleep. He yanked her dress down, covering up her penis before anyone could see, and stood to pull his pants back on.He grinned down at her with an evil gleam in his eyes, "Time to get up, sweetie. We have a busy morning ahead of us!" He then laughed cruelly.

Nilene groaned, and struggled to turn over, propping her- himself up on her elbows. She could see through the haze of her vision that he was serious, and so she did her best to force her brain back to consciousness. Gevane knelt down to stoke the smoldering campfire, while he- she (-?!) struggled to her feet, looking down at herself.

She, (he realized that is was safest at this point just to go ahead and think of himself as 'she', if simply to preserve her sanity), was a mess. Covered in sweat, much of it not her own, and reeking of piss from when she had lost control of her bladder, urinating all over her stomach, she reached down to pull her bra back up where it belonged. One of it's straps was snapped, and when she went to pull up the top of her dress, she found that one of its ruffled shoulders have been torn loose as well. The entire front was badly stained. Her stockings were torn to shreds, and she could feel where the straps of the garter belt had dug into the back of her thighs, leaving marks that would take hours to fade. And then there was the throbbing coming from her lower abdomen, and the dripping wetness running down her inner thighs.

She looked around for a rag, and seeing nothing immediately available, bent over to unhook the ruined stockings, and used them to sop of some of the mess between her legs after peeling them off. Nilene tossed them aside, and kicked sand over them. Gevane, watching her, tossed Nilene her panties. "Put those on. We don't want any untimely accidents, now do we? You'd do well to remember what I told you last night."

Nilene nodded humbly, avoiding eye-contact, but didn't make the mistake of saying anything about it out loud. His demand for secrecy suited her just fine.

Their 'busy morning' turned out to be a business venture, of a sort that Hurra would undoubtedly have been familiar with. Gevane rented a tiny tent at the back of the cavern, kept there for just this purpose: Nilene was to perform orally for a string of customers, mercenaries all, while Gevane dozed outside in a chair, collecting their money. After the preceding four and a half hours pressed underneath Gevane, she was somewhat numb to the entire affair. She didn't really even bother to look at who they were, though the variety of pricks she had to handle astonished her, somewhat.

She hadn't bothered to keep count, but far sooner than she would have expected, Gevane poked his head through the flap of the tent, while she was in the midst of trying to swallow the length of a prodigiously equipped Connelarian.

"The boss wants my squad to go on a run, so I'm taking off. The next five guys have already paid, but after them, you're finished for the day. I'll be back sometime tonight. Remember what I said," he added cryptically at the end. His head disappeared back through the flap, and she looked up at the Connelarian man, still in her mouth, with a questioning look in her eyes, shrugging.

Knowing it would soon be over, Nilene applied herself with a fervor that she had not previously shown, finishing off the Connelarian, and the next four men in short order. Her eyes popped open wide when her final customer step in. He was of mixed raced, Tanjuk and Wilderman, from the look of him, and huge. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, and though he was not overtly muscular, he looked very powerful.

Nilene actually felt her heart flutter a bit in anticipation, as he stepped up to where she knelt upon a cushion, and she started to unbuckle his belt. The man reached down with surprising gentleness, and stroked her hair, while she took hold of his growing limb. "Mm, you're very beautiful, dear. What is your name?"

"Nilene." She glanced up into his eyes.

"Nilene..." he said musingly, "I'm Paraldar." he put his hands into her hair, but didn't grip her painfully like the others, when he guided her head towards him.

There was no way she could fit it all the way in between her jaws, even when she tried to relax her throat, but he didn't seem to mind. He was the biggest, and the only one of the mercenaries to show her any kindness, so she decided to show him some extra attention, doing things she would never think of doing with the others, or Gevane.

Finished, he bent over, and kissed her forehead, pressing a coin into her palm before slipping out. She leaned back to rest on her thigh, and idly reached back to rub her tender rear, alone for the first time since Hurra knocked on her- his door the previous day. She was desperate for sleep, but didn't dare nod off in that cramped tent, so she forced herself to stand up on wobbly legs, and stumbled outside.

Thankfully, there was no one in the immediate vicinity. She moved to walk away, but was overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. She barely made it around the side of the tent, before she vomited. Looking down at the white steaming mass, clutching her stomach, the aroma struck her, and she heaved again. And again.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she wiped her mouth shakily, before looking behind to see Hurra kneeling down behind her. "There, there, honey. Are you going to be alright?"

Tears sprang to Nilene's eyes as she nodded. Hurra could see the mess- she knew... "I think so, I- I think so..." She turned and Hurra wrapped her arms around her as she wept against the prostitute's breast, "I'm so ashamed! I, I didn't know what to do, so I, I-" She could finish saying it. Hurra rocked her back and forth, patting her hair.

"I understand, dear... It wasn't easy for me my first time, either."

She helped Nilene back up to her feet, and walked with her arm over her shoulders in case she fell. Hurra lead her over to a well, near the wall of the cavern. Sitting Nilene down on the well's edge, she dipped a bucket, and used a ladle attached by a thin rope to give her a drink. While Nilene drank her fill, Hurra looked her over. "Well, we need to get you some new clothes, these look like they've been trampled by a herd of cattle. Did he hurt you?"

Nilene set down the ladle, and shook her head, "He slapped me once, but he didn't beat me..."

Hurra frowned, "That's not exactly what I meant." she said sternly, "I'm sorry this all happened to you, but I'm a well-seasoned woman, you don't have to be shy with me about the details. I need to know if he damaged you at all."

Nilene sighed, there didn't seem to be any way to avoid this, and she could use a little medical help. "He, ah- he, well... he kept at it for a long time, and I, uh, well, I feel kind of loose, back there..."

Hurra nodded, and stroked the back of her neck, "I would imagine. You've never done anything like that before, have you?" When Nilene shook her head in the negative, Hurra then asked, "Are you sore? I guess it's kind of a stupid thing to ask-"

Nilene shrugged, "It was terribly sore earlier, but now it's just tender. I keep wanting to touch it. It feels... I don't know how else to describe it- it feels empty."

Nilene patted her, "That's natural., especially if he had spent an unusual amount of time in you. It'll be tender for awhile, but you'll eventually get used to it, and may even learn to enjoy it."

Nilene pulled away, appalled that Hurra would suggest she could grow to enjoy such a thing, "Enjoy it?!"

"What? I've had to do it that way myself on more than one occasion, you know, and after the first few times, I discovered it could be strangely pleasant. And the boys who worked at the brothel never seemed to complain."

Nilene wasn't convinced, and held herself apart from Hurra. The prostitute stood up, and offered a hand to her. "Fine. I just hope you realize it could be some time before we may have a chance to get away from here- you may as well get what you can out of the experience. Come on, let's go clean you up."

Hurra's new 'owner', Barhala, was of higher rank than Gevane, and had his own tent. Gone away on a sortie, he had left Hurra to take care of his things. She brought Nilene here, and set her down on a cushion, allowing her to go to sleep before leaving to find a few things.

Two hours later, she awoke to Hurra shaking her. Nilene scooted up to a sitting position, and Hurra handed her a plate covered in something resembling stew. "Eat this." She ordered, and knelt to unpack a small leather bag. Nilene wolfed down the food, pausing just long enough to take a drink from a brass pitcher of water.

Finished with the food, Hurra ordered Nilene to stand, and undress. While she stripped herself out of the soiled clothes, Hurra produced a porcelain basin of soapy water, and a washcloth. She knelt in front of Nilene, and scrubbed her down, getting into every nook and cranny. After drying off, Hurra asked her to lay down on her stomach, and raise her behind up, before letting her get dressed. Grabbing a small jar of ointment, Hurra spread her cheeks, and examined her, dabbing a bit of the salve on the tender ring of muscles. Without warning her, she slipped a finger inside, and felt around. Pulling her hand away, she reached for the washcloth, and wiped her hand clean, "You look a little puffy, and the muscles haven't fully constricted, but I think your going to be okay. Over-all, I'd say you handled your deflowering pretty well, kid. Now get up," she slapped one of her cheeks playfully, "and get dressed. I managed to collect a few things from some of the other girls."

She provided Nilene with a couple of new pairs of panties, some less revealing than others, and she immediately chose a pair of cotton ones that provided a great deal more coverage than the rest. Hurra had talked one of the girls into letting her have a cunningly made bra, with padding in the cups. Once cinched tightly across Nilene's chest, it gave her the appearance of a young teenage girl just starting to get her breasts. "I had some trouble finding you a dress that would fit right, but I know you like blue, so try this one." It was a silken and form-hugging nightgown, in royal-blue, that fell to about mid-thigh. Nilene slipped it on, and looked down at herself. Hurra was studying her too, and whistled appreciatively. "I've only met a handful of cross-dressers in my life, but you are hands-down the best looking!" The older woman complimented her.

Nilene couldn't help but blush.

Zalingy entered the gates of Fort Valor, dressed as a common fisherman. Mactar and Dochec can have their men search the countryside all they want, Zalingy intended that he would be the one to collect the lion's share of the bounty. Nirik Rockgut, the unconfirmed Duke of North Dramore, didn't just fall off the map... It was simply a matter of picking up the lad's trail, and running him down.

The public square at the base of the central tower was littered with trash and debris, and even a few trampled bodies. The tower doors had been left pushed open, and even now, a few straggling looters emerged, carrying whatever they could get their hands on. Affecting a manner similar to theirs, Zalingy walked up the steps, looking like any other opportunistic citizen. The interior had been ransacked, level by level, but he knew that in a building this large, there had to still be staff rattling around somewhere.

Following his nose, he found them in the kitchen, where a handful of Dramicine Knights were forcing the cooks and drudges to serve them a feast. He didn't feel like wasting time giving lengthy explanations, when in the end the result would have to be the same.

The kitchens were divided into two large sections, and only one of them was being used. Zalingy moved through the dark, plotting, preparing, before edging closer to the wide arch that separated the two chambers. One of the knights was standing up facing his men, and away from Zalingy. With terrific precision, he threw a blade at the knight, impaling him right in the back of the neck, severing his spine. As he collapsed to the floor, the other men stood up from their chairs. Zalingy had already dropped back out of sight.

Two of the five remaining knights stepped into the gloom, swords drawn, side by side. Their silhouettes were plainly visible, and two more blades flashed out of the dark. The third knight showed a fraction more intelligence. He rushed through the arch, darting towards the shadows before the unseen attacker could target him. A sound strategy, Zalingy thought, if it were not for the trip wire. A shelf crashed down on the knight, and a whole rack of knives flew at him. Most bounced off of his armor harmlessly, but enough struck him in the neck and face that he was taken down anyway.

Now there were two. Before they could form any kind of plan, Zalingy put an end to the bothersome affair, by throwing one last blade, catching one of the Dramicine men in the throat. He stared at his comrade, gurgling blood, clutching at the knife in his windpipe, and while the remaining man was distracted by this, Zalingy rushed up from behind, and slit his throat with a sharpened steel dagger.

The cooking staff was thankful for his help, and after asking his questions, one of the drudges lead him to the meat-locker. He thanked her, and told her to tell the others to clear out of the tower while they could. After she had scurried away, and he was alone, he began to study the room.

The drudge had told him that the Duke was known to have had a secret passage somewhere down here, which he used to smuggle his mistress about. The drudge had seen this mistress leading Nirik into the meat-locker right around the time the Duke had been beheaded. They hadn't been seen since.

Feeling along the walls, he reached the back of the chamber, brushing past slabs of salted meat suspended from hooks. Here. This stone was a false front for a door. Zalingy braced his shoulder, and pushed, revealing the Duke's secret tunnel. Without looking back, he stepped inside and followed it until reaching the alleyway.

He looked around- nothing. Striding to the street at the alley's end, he grabbed the first man he came across, and showed him a shiny gold coin, with Lord Dramore's profile engraved upon it, and asked, "What brothel did the Duke use?"

Madame Lattera was a retired whore, who had bought the slum-side brothel and made herself the Hostess. When the Caravaner man, dressed in fishing waders, walked in she shuffled right over too him, smiling graciously, "Good afternoon, sir!"

Zalingy put on his most charming grin, "And a good day to you as well, Madame. I was wondering..."

Lattera gestured for him to step into the foyer, "If we could perhaps provide a bit of comfort, for a road-weary traveler?"

Zalingy snapped his fingers, "That's it exactly!"

"Well then, please feel free to peruse our wide selection of beauties. Rates vary from girl to girl, but we try to keep prices within reason. Did you have something particular in mind?"

Zalingy studied the women in the foyer, "I like my women with a little... experience, when it comes to what they're doing, if you follow my meaning." he winked at her, "You, by chance, wouldn't happen to be available?"

She batted his arm, chuckling, "You, flatter me! And I, for one, am not the sort of lady to turn my nose up at flattery. But alas, my dear, my days of working the rooms are well behind me." She tapped her chin, "However, I do know someone who may suit your tastes, if you would follow me..."

She lead him down a hall to a comfortable room, that was mostly mattress. There he was introduced to a matronly beauty with an attractive streak of silver running through her dark-red hair. Her name was Kariil. After paying Madame Lattera for an evening's worth of entertainment, he was left alone with her. He was not interested in any hanky-panky, right then, instead reaching into his satchel to produce a handful of coins.

The madame would have never answered his questions, but a forty-something year old prostitute couldn't turn down that kind of money.

"I know the Duke used to frequent these halls. I want to know who his favorite gilly was..."

Mactar's men did not return until well after midnight. Nilene had caught up on rest while she could, and was waiting for him by his campfire, over which a small kettle of stew boiled- provided by Hurra to help her keep Gevane in a good mood.

It worked. He smiled at her brightly upon seeing the food, and tossed her something while he hunkered down to spoon it right out of the kettle. She was shocked to see it was her blue jacket, "I found that while we were coming back in, that's yours, right?"

She nodded, and shrugged it on, thankful for something to fight the evening chill. He eyed the twin bumps now on her chest, poking provocatively through the silk nightgown, but didn't comment, spooning more stew into his mouth, "Where did you get the clothes?"

Hurra had advised her to be truthful when she could, "One of the other girls gave them too me, after she saw what I was wearing." She cast her eyes down.

Gevane grunted through a mouthful of food, and said after swallowing, "You look good in it." Finished with his hasty meal, he plopped the spoon back down into the stew, letting it sink carelessly, and he stood back up to peel off his armor. He then dropped down to the sand, closer to Nilene, and patted his knee.

Catching the hint, Nilene crawled over, and sat in his lap, with an arm behind his neck for balance. "You have done really well, Nilene, so I've decided to let you have some time to recover from last night, but..."

It turned out all we wanted was some oral gratification, and rather thankfully, Nilene pushed him back, and sat herself so she could easily access his pants. He was ready for her, but after a while, he started to wilt in her mouth. Releasing him, she looked up, to discover that he had fallen asleep. Leaving him as-is, she got up, and went to go lay down on the far side of the fire, curled up in her jacket.

The next morning went much like the previous one, with Nilene in the cramped tent, servicing man after man. This time, however, Gevane was not called off on a mission, so it wasn't until noon that she was allowed to rest. She had noticed several familiar pricks from the day before- repeat business, but she didn't encounter the handsome mongrel.

After the last man had departed, Gevane stepped into the tent, while Nilene washed off her face with a wet towel. When she was finished, she turned around to find Gevane watching her lustily, rubbing his groin.

This time, he didn't make her get on her back, instead bending her over the thick cushion she used to kneel on. He lifted her gown.

"There's a jar in my bag," Nilene told him, "Pour some of the oil on yourself, and it will go more smoothly this time." Hurra had given her the jar before leaving her, advising she should always try to use some during sex.

Gevane seemed agreeable, and fished the jar out of the leather bag that Hurra had given her. It worked as advertised- between it, and the previous stretching, there was little resistance as he entered her, and there was no ripping pain. The burning itch only lasted a little while, and as her muscles fully relaxed, the sensation became oddly soothing. While she would not yet go so far as to describe the sensation as pleasurable, after he had reached his climax, and pulled away, she found that her penis had grown stiff, when she tried to pull her panties back up.

She reached down under her panties, to rub her bottom, getting some of his seed on her fingertips. He buckled his pants, watching her, "After you get cleaned up, you can have the rest of the day to yourself. Tell your friend I like her taste in clothing." he stepped to the tent flap, and paused, holding it partly open, "But I'll want to see you after sunset."

He left, and she sighed to herself. It was going to be one of those nights...

By afternoon, the Captain of the city walls declared a state of martial law in Fort Valor. With most of the Guard now out securing the city, Zalingy had little trouble breaking into the interior levels of the outer walls. The whore had told him everything he wanted to know, and after having some fun with her, he had tracked down the young harlot that had assisted Hurra in disguising Nirik.

Smuggle him out as a girl. Clever, if not particularly innovative. Picking up the trail after leaving the brothel hadn't been easy, but at least he now knew what to look for. After some consideration, Zalingy started to think of all the ways they may have used to get out of the city, which was in chaos by that time. Figuring the Duke's whore-mistress might have some contacts with the guards, he settled on investigating the walls.

With Dario under the blade of his dagger, Zalingy knew he had been right to come there.

"Show me which door they used." he commanded, pressing the blade against the soft flesh of Dario's throat.

He had no doubts that the man had taken him to the right place. He slit his throat as they entered the alcove, and flung him into the room. Having no time to react, Marand found himself knocked to the floor, pinned under a jumble of desk and corpse. Zalingy paid him no heed as he strolled around the duty station, and casually threw back the bolt securing the outer door.

It opened onto the rough country at the city's northeastern corner. Two women shouldn't be too hard to find out there. Zalingy turned, to head back around the perimeter of the outer walls, to retrieve the gear he had stashed.

A routine began to develop over the next few days, which Nilene steeled herself to endure.

In the mornings, after cooking Gevane his breakfast, Nilene would find herself in the tent, being pimped out for two-coins a head. By the fourth day, her jaws stopped bothering her so much, and unless she had a particularly long line that day, she seemed to have overcome her fits of nausea. She found the whole process to be rather boring, and if she ever got out of this mess alive, and got back to being a boy again, she didn't think she'd ever ask another girl to do this to him.

She had been flattered to learn, in an off-handed manner, that she had quickly become the most popular girl in the camp, of which Hurra in particular found rather amusing. Seemingly in spite of, or perhaps because of, the fact that she would only go down on her customers. Gevane would allow none of them to lay with her. She would soon know most of the men in camp by their nethers- she had even been sampled by Commander Yellsin on one occasion. Mactar was noticeably absent from the lines, as was Toba, who was undergoing a slow recovery.

The only real highlight of these grueling morning sessions was when Paraldar would make an appearance. He was always extremely kind with her, and would bring her small presents, or slip her a few extra coins for herself, but he resisted seeing her daily, (or twice a day as some of the men had come to). She did not know it, but Nilene was actually very good at it, having a natural knack for sensing what would bring the men the most pleasure, that a normal girl would take years to learn. Considering that he was getting the best treatment of all, it was a small miracle that Paraldar was not constantly trying to see her.

Gevane continued to allow Nilene to have the afternoons to herself, and she spent much of this time with Hurra, getting to know some of the other girls. With the coins from Paraldar, she was able to barter with them for more clothing, but regardless of what she wore, she seemed to always have her coat on over it. Wanting to keep Gevane pleased with her, she had invested a good deal towards procuring lingerie.

He never repeated that first evening's performance, but Gevane would mount her once, (or occasionally twice), a night, trying a variety of positions, but seeming to like it best when he had her on her back underneath him. She somewhat anticipated their nightly collisions- it had stopped being painful, and it would briefly get rid of that empty feeling. She found it so soothing at times, that she once fell asleep while he had her bent over. But asides from brief instances when his angle was just right, she still wouldn't call it pleasurable.

Those days when he was away with his squad, Gevane allowed her to have off completely, as long as she was ready for him when he returned. On the third occasion that Gevane went away, after she had been with the Western Company for just under two weeks, he told her he would likely be gone for a couple of days.

It was strange having a whole night to herself. She didn't want to sleep, and waste any of it, so Nilene eventually got up from her campfire, and took a stroll around the tents, looking up into the starry sky above the maw of the sinkhole. Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumped into someone's back. They turned around- it was Paraldar.

"Nilene!" he smiled warmly, "How good to see you!"

She blushed, and looked down at his boots, "Good evening, Paraldar."

He folded his arms over his broad chest, and looked down at her fondly, "What are you doing wandering around this late, hasn't Gevane gotten back yet?"

Nilene shook her head, looking up at him, trying to hold his gaze, but faltering, "No, he said he wouldn't likely be back until tomorrow evening." She shrugged, "I realized that I had no reason to be sitting around, tending to a fire that he wasn't going to see, so I decided to take a walk, and get some fresh air."

He grinned like a cat, and put a hand behind her shoulder, "Would you care if I joined you then, and kept you company?"

This could be it. An opening. Nilene made herself smile at him, "I wouldn't mind at all, dear."

By some strange coincidence, they wound up in front of Paraldar's tent. As a sub-lieutenant to Yellsin, he was due such accommodations.

"Well, I guess I should bid you a pleasant evening, and allow you to retire..." Paraldar said, with a tone of mock sadness. Nilene had played this particular game herself, from the male perspective, and knew exactly what he wanted her to say.

"If you have some wine, I would love to continue our conversation. I'm really not all that tired..."

The huge mixed-breed man grinned, and held open the flap of his tent for her to enter. The inside was spartan, but comfortable. He obviously hadn't kept a female slave in some time. A gray rug covered the sandy floor, and he had a comfortable looking bedroll. He had no other furniture, and nothing hanging from the walls, just an oil lamp hanging from the drooping ceiling, and his gear piled in a corner. Next to the bed was a small collection of bottles, and stacked plates and bowls.

"Sorry if it isn't much to look at," he apologized while lighting the lamp, casting a yellow glow.

Nilene glanced around, and shrugged, holding one of his arms, "That's fine, I'm not here to look at your tent."

He looked down at her over his shoulder, and smirked, "Oh really? Then what did you come here to 'look at'?"

"Your wine, of course!" She teased, and plopped herself down on his bedding, lifting one of the bottles experimentally. Swishing the liquid inside around, she patted the space next to her.

Paraldar joined her, and the wine was ignored when he leaned in to kiss her. It was still nothing like kissing a girl, but he wasn't as forceful and fumbling as Gevane. She actually enjoyed it, though she would never admit it. She was breathless when he pulled back from her, and after catching her breath, she decided to dare all, "There is something I should tell you..."

He spoke tenderly, "I know," and she could see in his eyes that he knew full well what she meant.

"How do you-"

He silenced her by reaching for her through her dress, "I noticed this through your dress a couple of times, when I first started to visit you."

"So you don't-" she started to ask.

He shushed her with a finger to her lips, "No, I don't mind at all. You are very beautiful." He leaned in to kiss her again.

Soon, she had him stripped of his clothing, and ran a hand appreciatively over his abdomen. She leaned down, and took him into her mouth. While she was doing so, he trailed his fingers up and down her spine, venturing lower with every pass. Nilene rolled her hips at him suggestively, as she looked up from her business, "You wouldn't happen to have any sweet-oil, would you?"

He grinned. As a matter of fact, he did.

As they lay together, recovering, Nilene was already starting to miss the feeling of having him inside of her. What in the Twin-Hells was happening to her- him! Trying to focus on her plan, she reached for him, and fondled him playfully, "I can't imagine going without this, now that I've had it. I wish Gevane wasn't coming back."

Paraldar stroked her hair, "Really, does he treat you poorly? I personally would have never expected him to have a woman like you..."

Nilene rolled her eyes dramatically, "He's sworn me to secrecy, that's why he will only let me give the men oral."

Paraldar frowned, "Do you like doing that?"

She shrugged, "It's alright, but I'm getting a little sick of the routine. I'd much rather have a steady regular, than this constant flood of strangers."

"I would never want to share you in such a casual fashion."

Nilene propped herself up on an elbow, and looked at him intently, "Oh, please! I would much rather belong to you, than with that fool. Isn't there anything you could do?"

Paraldar thought about it, before finally responding, "There may be something..."

The following day, Nilene told Hurra what she was doing, and the veteran prostitute gave her blessing, after advising Nilene to be extra careful. When Mactar's squad returned at dusk, she was waiting for Gevane by the fire, as he would have expected. He tossed his gear to the ground, and grunted at her to fetch him some water. As she stood up to comply, she saw Paraldar walking up to them.

She had expected something a bit more subtle, for some mad reason, but instead, Paraldar simply strode right up to Gevane, kicked him in the face to the ground, and quickly stooped beside him, to ram his dagger into Gevane's heart. Nilene stood there stunned, as Gevane convulsed like an epileptic during the last moments of his life. By the time Paraldar had pulled his blade free, and stood up, a small crowd was starting to gather around the scene.

The gawking mercenaries and women parted, as Commander Yellsin approached, with Mactar in tow. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, sweeping everyone with his gaze.

Paraldar stood proudly, and pointed to Nilene. "She told me she would rather be my property, than his, but he would not release her."

Yellsin looked from Gevane's body, to Paraldar, to Nilene, and back again. He nodded. "He knew the rules." Camp followers were allowed to switch masters, if they found someone else in the Western Company they preferred. The crowd dispersed, and Nilene bent down to gather up her things, before following Paraldar back to his tent.

No one bothered to give Gevane a burial. Within a few hours, Yellsin had given the order to strike camp.

CHAPTER THREE: Camp Followers

Rumors began to spread that a band of freedom fighters was striking Dramicine targets, under the direct guidance of Duke Nirik, who had swiftly become something of a folk hero. No one had even heard Roddinklerk's name- which was precisely what he wanted. He presented himself as Nirik's lieutenant, claiming to receive orders from him, when visiting a "Secret Cavern" that didn't actually exist.

Roddinklerk had no idea what had happened to the young Duke. No body had been found, no one had stepped forward for the bounty- Roddinklerk seemed to be the only person even claiming to have seen him. But his growing legend was useful. Roddinklerk had no delusions that he could defeat Lord Dramore's forces, but he could delay the Dramicine plan to consolidate the kingdom under Greater Dramore's flag. And as long as the people had the name of Duke Nirik to rally behind, Archimere's victory could be delayed.

His original cell of veteran soldiers had expanded greatly, as more and more people sought to join him. The splintered remnants of the Northern Army proved to be the most reliable additions, though there were many burned-out scrub farmers and fishermen, whose motivation for revenge made up for a lack of formal training. He had two of his more even-tempered veterans giving them crash-courses.

Just before dawn, Roddinklerk paced back and forth around the edge of their hidden camp, deep in the folded hills along the coast. It was an abandoned village, burned down over a year earlier, and was little more than a few crumbling walls of whitewashed brick nestled between the ridges of land. As the first light of the sun began to brighten the sky, he could make out a small dot near the horizon. It grew bigger.

A brown-feathered pigeon fluttered down into the middle of the camp, aimed straight for a yellow tent with a red and white standard painted on it's roof. He walked briskly back into the center of camp, and halfway to the boldly colored tent, he ran into one of the Northern Army recruits, who tried to inform him that a pigeon had arrived.

"Thank you, sergeant, I am on my way to Falinor's tent right now, if you would care to join me."

The sergeant, wearing his battered Northern armor, fell behind him dutifully, and they marched right into Falinor's lair. He was the team's resident agent of the Imperial Rangers, but he spent most of his time doing the duties of an Officer of the Post- handling Roddinklerk's communications and intelligence gathering. His tent was cluttered, how he managed to get it all packed up and carried was no small mystery to the rest of the men and women in camp. He was settling the arriving pigeon into one of his collapsible cages, just big enough to be 'cozy' for the birds, but not take up an undue amount of space. They were not regular carrier pigeons, as used by the Post to fly messages from Garrison to Garrison. These were hand trained by himself, to home in on certain flag-like emblems, giving Roddinklerk's team a mobile communications network.

He spoke without looking over at Roddinklerk, "Let me get Darling settled, and I'll be right with you."

Roddinklerk stood patiently. Falinor may have his quirks, but he was extremely valuable, and as a Ranger, could technically pull rank on Roddinklerk whenever he wanted, even though he was only a corporal. The fact that he never did, was greatly appreciated by the colonel.

Finished stowing the cage with the others, he turned to face Roddinklerk, and the sergeant standing behind them.

"Morning, sir," he said, fetching a miniature dispatch tube from a shirt pocket, "-this just came in from Yaevers," he passed over the small tube.

Rolled up inside, was a slip of paper, on which was written four words:

-They took the bait-

Roddinklerk folded the note, before stashing it in a small pocket on the inner lining of his cloak. He looked at Falinor grimly, "Mirema's in. Send out word; we move in two days." he glanced at the sergeant, "You too. I want you to tell your people to prepare themselves."

"Are you going to go speak with Nirik?" the sergeant asked with some awe.

Roddinklerk was an accomplished card player, so managed to keep a serious expression, but underneath he was smiling at the man's gullibility. With a thoughtful voice, he lied, "Hm, yes, I believe I may have to do so, with an operation of this size coming up. I'll inform my officers to make sure everything is prepared while I am gone, if you could do the same."

The man snapped an unnecessary salute, "Yes, sir!" he then turned, to leave the tent.

Falinor snickered once he was gone. "I don't know, sir. Nirik may not be willing to go along with this one!"

Roddinklerk gave him a disapproving stare, "I would have thought that a Ranger would better appreciate the subtleties of propaganda."

Falinor shrugged, and turned back to his birds, "We can't all be Sunder Shaeng. I'm more or less an information broker."

"That's why I brought you on, Corporal."

Mirema should never have volunteered for this assignment. While she knew what the mercenaries would be like on an intellectual level, she hadn't truly understood what being taken captive by them would be like. "Gang Rape" used to be just words to her- now they had a whole new meaning.

She was tossed rudely to the rocky ground of the Western Company's new base, nestled between two high ridges. Mactar had been the one to catch her, but seeing as he had little use for either women or men, in that sort of capacity, he had given her to his troop. Now, she was effectively turned loose, but the terrain and the mercenary sentries made escape improbable.

One of their camp followers, a young blonde girl wearing a revealing blue dress under a dusty coat, came over to help her get back up to her feet. "Come with me, we'll get you cleaned up."

Mirema nodded weakly, and let the girl lead her away to a faded-violet canvass tent.

A large man stepped out as they approached, an inquisitive look on his face, but the girl shooed him away, ordering, "Go and fetch Hurra for me!" She then took Mirema into the tent, and set her down on a comfortable cushion. Fetching a ladle full of water, she knelt to help the young legionnaire drink. "Are you okay?"

Mirema winced painfully as she pressed a hand to her side, "I think, I think one of those bastards... broke a rib..."

The girl put her hands on Mirema's shoulders, and eased her back, "My friend Hurra will be here soon, don't worry. She'll know what to do. I'm Nilene, by the way."

"Mirema... Mirema Korova, I'm-" She bit her lip as she felt a jab of pain in her side. "you have- have to listen, there's going to be... an attack, in two-" She cut off what she was going to say, when there was a stirring at the flap of the tent's entrance. Hurra entered, with Paraldar following behind. Mirema looked terrified upon seeing Paraldar, in all his great size, but Nilene patted her on the shoulder softly.

"Don't you mind him, he's probably the most honorable man in this camp." Nilene tried to reassure her. Hurra knelt down next to Nilene, and started looking the girl over. Seeing that he was making the injured lass uncomfortable, Paraldar went outside. Hurra made her drink a concoction that put her into a deep sleep, and together, Nilene and Hurra wrestled her out of her torn clothes, and bandaged her ribs.

She awoke in the middle of the night, to find herself in Nilene's blue nightgown, which hugged her sleek body in a flattering manner. Trying to sit up in the dark, she remembered where she was when the pain in the ribs stabbed at her. She was laying on a makeshift pallet of blankets, and nearby she could just make out the sleeping bulk of Paraldar. A head lifted up behind him, looking at her. It was the young girl, Nilene.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Mirema rubbed at her throat, and said in a raspy voice, "Water."

Nilene got out from under her blanket wearing a gauzy green robe that her undergarments were visible through, and stepped carefully around her master, grabbing the pitcher as she came over to Mirema. The legionnaire drank heavily, and then set the pitcher down in her lap. "Thank you."

Nilene smiled in the dark, and patted her arm, "It's no big deal, we've all been through it, when we were first captured."

"How long-" Mirema coughed into her hand.

Nilene was surprised to find that she wasn't sure anymore, "Uh, over a month, I think, but not quite two."

Mirema shivered, and rubbed her naked arms, "I need to use the latrine."

At the lowest end of the ravine, was a line of bushes designated as the Company toilet. Waiting for her to finish her business, Nilene stood with her hands clasped behind her back, looking up at the overcast sky, until Mirema emerged from around the dry hedge. Nilene looked at her, with a mild ache in her breast. The young, short-haired Connelarian was exactly the kind of woman she had longed for, back when she was still a boy.

"Thank you, again." she said, while straightening the hem of the gown Nilene had lent her.

Nilene nodded, "Is everything okay... down there?"

Mirema blushed angrily, "I'm a little bruised up, but I think I'll be fine."

Nilene raised a hand defensively, and turned to lead her back to the tent, "I just want to make sure. We don't need you dying in your sleep from blood-loss, or coming down with an infection, if we can prevent it."

Mirema frowned, but nodded agreement, "I'm sorry, I understand what you're saying, I just-"

Nilene held back to put an arm over the girl's shoulder, "You don't have to explain. I should tell you about my first night sometime."

Mirema halted suddenly, before they got any closer to the scattered fires and tents, "There is something I need to tell you."

A slightly worried look came to Nilene's brow, when Mirema stepped in close, and whispered in a harsh voice, "I'm with the Legion!"

Nilene glanced around, and pulled Mirema back towards the latrine hedge. "The Legion? I thought you all pulled back to Gatefield months ago... Did you get left behind?"

Mirema shook her head, still whispering, "No, there were a lot of troops that didn't make it out of North Dramore, but I'm not one of those. I'm with the resistance."

Nilene looked puzzled, "The resistance?'

Mirema looked slightly aghast, "Don't tell me you haven't heard-? My commanding officer brought up his team right around the time Duke Herik was murdered, and he has rallied the people against Lord Dramore, in the authority of Duke Nirik, the old duke's heir."

Nilene was truly at a loss as to how to reply. Mirema went on, "Well, never-mind about whether you've heard of us or not. The Colonel is planning on attacking these mercenary scum in a little over a day. Now I know you say you have the best behaved man in the Company in your tent, but I can only imagine that you, and the other girls, would rather have your freedom."

Nilene had to admit that she would. "You want us to help you?"

Mirema nodded, "Yes, anyone you think can be trusted."

Nilene thought it over, as they started walking back up the path, "We'll talk to Hurra in the morning, she has a lot of influence with the other girls."

They got back to the tent, and Mirema fell right back to sleep upon hitting her cushions. Nilene crawled back under the covers of the bedroll, and Paraldar wrapped his arms around her, "Is our new friend going to be okay?"

Nilene nodded, unable to reply. She closed her eyes, and felt a chill in her heart, when he began to kiss the back of her neck. Some time later, Mirema was awakened by the sounds of Nilene's moans, and looked over with half-asleep eyes. Nilene smiled at her awkwardly, shrugging as if to say, 'What choice did she have?' Mirema rolled back over to return to sleep.

Once Hurra had been appraised of the situation the following morning, word began to spread like wildfire amongst the girls. They could all be counted on. It was Nilene that Mirema was starting to have doubts about.

Her life had abruptly changed after Paraldar had killed Gevane for her. He never raised a hand toward her, or spake an unkind word. He in fact continued to shower her with gifts, and let her have free reign to do as she pleased all day. And it was with him, that she had finally learned to enjoy anal sex.

Mirema kept an eye on her all day, despite Hurra's reassurances about her. But she seemed to be following the plan, helping the other girls gather supplies in hidden cracks and corners of the ravine. They figured out which men would be on guard duty, and who was best skilled with a blade. As sunset fell upon them, Mirema lost track of Nilene's whereabouts, in the rush of final preparation.

All the women that could, were gathered near the wall of the ravine. Mirema and Hurra were going over the plan, and soon they all dispersed, to carry out their assigned tasks, most of which revolved around neutralizing the guards up on the ridge. It was an hour before dawn.

As the women moved out, some passing weapons around, Mirema looked around, searching for Nilene. She spotted her- moving off in the wrong direction, back towards the tents. Scowling with rage, Mirema moved to follow.

"Wake up! Gods-damn-all, man! Wake UP!"

Paraldar stirred under the covers, mumbling, "The sun's not even up yet..."

Nilene shook him urgently, "Wake up, dammit! The Resistance is about to attack!"

This got his attention, he struggled to rise through the fog of slumber, "The resistance?"

There was a flutter of canvas, as Mirema entered the tent, a long cooking knife in her hand, "Bitch! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you!" She rushed at Nilene, but her foot caught on the edge of the pallet they had laid out for her, and she stumbled into Nilene as she was rising. There was a struggle, and Paraldar stood up in the dark, naked, trying to see what was going on.

Nilene was shoved into the side of the tent, causing the entry flap to gape open for a few precious seconds, letting in enough light to see what was going on. Mirema had gotten a better grip on her blade, and moved to stab at Paraldar, but he was almost two feet taller than her, and had a much longer reach. With a swinging backhand, he struck her against an ear, and cracked her neck. She tumbled through the air, to crash in a heap against one of the tent's canvass walls, bowing the tent's frame.

Paraldar fumbled for his pants, while Nilene rushed over to him, "We have to hurry, the girls are plotting to murder the guards as we speak, we have to go, now!"

Grunting as he buckled his sword belt on, he stepped out of the tent, unsheathing his blade as he went. Dawn was rushing close, and they could hear the blast of horns from beyond the eastern ridge. The men were starting to rise in confusion, as the silhouettes of horse-mounted knights appeared atop the saw-backed ridge. Paraldar grabbed Nilene's forearm, and fled with her before the attacking soldiers could fully encircle the camp.

Yellsin awoke to the sounding horns. He didn't bother with grabbing for his armor, he instead reached for his sword, and stormed out of his tent wearing only his silk pajama pants, belted with a black sash. The thunder of hooves on the ridge back had joined the blasts of the horns. Men were milling around, stumbling out of their tents and struggling into their battle gear.

"MACTAR!" Yellsin called out over the din. Within moments, his most loyal Lieutenant ran up out of the chaos, to report. He was the only man there properly suited up in his armor.

"It's the resistance, sir! We-" His words were cut off by a storm of falling arrows. Men could be seen pouring over the ridge, and the mounted knights had reached the edge of the camp, clearing a bloody path with sharpened, steel lances. The mercenaries were confused, some standing to fight, others running in retreat. If Yellsin didn't assert himself quick, it would turn into a full rout.

"Gather your men, and send for the bugler!" Yellsin began to order, and then spun about. The horsemen had reached the open space in front of his command tent, and a Connelarian officer, with a curled mustache, sliced halfway through Yellsin's upper torso with his lance.

Mactar had been savvy enough to throw himself to the ground, and roll out of the horse's path. The officer spun his mount around, as Mactar regained his feet, and seeing that the battle was already lost, the Gulean mercenary fell back into the safety of the panicking crowd.

Watching him flee, Roddinklerk grinned savagely, and steadied his lance, as he turned his horse back to the fray.

The women who helped them would be spared, but otherwise the Nirik Resistance took no prisoners. The mounted knights slowly herded the Western Company into the bottom of the ravine, and held them there with a wall of lances and pikes, while their archers rained steady death down upon them.

Roddinklerk ordered his men to search the campsite for any survivors, or straggling women. They wound up nabbing a few prisoners after all, cowardly men who tried to hide in their tents, while their comrades were slaughtered.

One of them was an injured Teljuk man, whose head was partially wrapped in gauze, holding down a makeshift frame keeping his shattered jaw properly aligned. No one was able to understand what he was saying, and uncertain of his disposition, Roddinklerk ordered that the man be brought along, to see their own healer back at their base.

A few were known to have escaped, but Roddinklerk did not bother to send anyone after them. A few should always survive to spread the word.

One of his knights, the blonde-haired half-wilderman named Yaevers, galloped up towards Roddinklerk, with a woman clutching his sides, riding behind him. He helped her get down, before dismounting himself, and stepped over to salute his commander.

"Yaevers." Roddinklerk nodded to him.

"Sir," He dropped the salute, "I haven't been able to locate Mirema. This woman is in charge of the camp followers that helped us."

The woman stepped forward, and attempted a curtsey. Roddinklerk bowed, and offered her his gratitude.

"Sir, if I may...?"

He smiled at her, "Please, if there is anything I can do, I shall see to it."

The woman blushed. She wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty, likely even more so when she was younger. But there was something about her that the Colonel found deeply appealing. She said to him, "One of my girls is missing, and I fear Mirema's disappearance may have something to do with it. She was paranoid about my friend's loyalty, and if she went to confront her master... he is a powerful man."

A worried frown crossed Roddinklerk's features, "Take me to where this friend of yours was quartered."

The canvas tent she lead them too was bent, and something heavy was pressed against one of it's walls from the insides, making it bulge out. Yaevers stepped in first, sword drawn, and Roddinklerk followed with Hurra huddled behind him.

Upon seeing Mirema's body in the corner, upside down- neck bent at a frightening angle, Roddinklerk rushed over to her. There was no pulse. He moved her around, so that he could pick her up in his arms, as if she were sleeping. Yaevers bowed his head solemnly at the sight. Hurra looked around, and declared, "Paraldar must have taken her." She bent down, to pick up a blue coat.

Roddinklerk wasn't listening however. He carried Mirema's body out into the rising morning light.

The sky had turned a bruised color, but the sun had not yet risen over the jagged horizon. Paraldar ran bare-chested, sword clutched in one hand, Nilene's sweaty palm in the other. They had come almost a mile away from the Western Company's camp, and they could still hear the noise of the battle as it wound down.

This was not going at all according to her plan. Nilene had just wanted Paraldar, who had always been kind to her, to get away before the attack. She hadn't wanted to come along with him, though. She had wanted to be taken in by the Resistance. Who knows, maybe if she could have talked him into surrendering...

It no longer mattered. That nosy Legionnaire girl had ruined everything, and gotten herself killed in the bargain. She didn't blame Paraldar. He thought he had been protecting her.

They pelted down a narrow path, descending between another pair of ridges. A small copse of brambly trees clustered at the bottom of the narrowing gully, surrounding a small muddy pool. Paraldar ran full steam into their midst, and stumbled headlong when a rope suddenly popped up across their path, previously hidden by fallen leaves. Thus tripped up, Paraldar fell face-first to the ground, and Nilene pinwheeled her arms, trying to stop without falling.

Rising up out of the leaves, a young man, roughly Nilene's age by the look of him, and covered with grime, ran over and leaped upon Paraldar's back, while he was trying to get back up to his feet. The leaf covered man wielded nothing but a sturdy mason's mallet, which was more than enough to inflict a mortal blow to the back of Paraldar's skull.

Nilene stood there, stunned, unable to breath, let alone scream. The man climbed off of Paraldar's back, and looked over at her. He was wearing some kind of armor, but it was so caked in mud and debris that she had no hope of identifying its nation.

He smiled, which stood out glaringly amidst his dirt-smeared face, and he held out a hand to her, "Come on, you can thank me later! We better go before any of those soldiers come across us!"

He reached for her, and pulled her by the hand, leading Nilene off in the very same direction that she had already been going with Paraldar. She turned her head, to look at his slumped body one last time, before they disappeared behind the trees.

Zalingy watched as the resistance fighters marched away, leading a cluster of women behind them. Waiting until he was certain that they were at least three ridges away, he stole down into the ravine, to investigate the ruined camp.

The bodies heaped in the bottom of the narrow depression were beyond hope of retrieval, even though he could hear a few muffled moans from men who still lingered on, buried somewhere in the pile of corpses. He came across Dochec laying in the path up to he camp, peppered with arrows.

Further on, he found Yellsin with the upper half of his body veering off away from the rest of it, and an arm twisted beneath him in the gravel. Only one of those modified lances could have inflicted something as heinous as this. He poked and prodded in every tent, looking for anything- anyone, but there was little to see.

Until he came upon a tent with a badly bent frame. It was a faded-violet hue, and he stepped inside to see all the signs of a struggle. And a blue coat, folded nicely and set atop a disheveled bedroll.

A blue coat- he picked it up. Smelled it.

Perfume.

Holding it away from him, he remembered what the drudge in the tower kitchens had told him; "Dressed in light colored pants and tunic, and his favorite blue coat..."

Clenching it in his hands, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. He had searched all the way to the border of Farthestar and back, and had finally decided to come back to base to get some rest...

"He was right here the entire time!" he laughed again, and stalked out of the tent, coat in hand, and began heading east, following the path of Roddinklerk's men.

CHAPTER FOUR: Along the Road to Farthestar

"Thromwick Leatherman, ma'am. Private, Second-Class."

The young man who had rescued her, turned out to be a young infantryman with the Legions. Recruited just that previous summer, he had already spent a whole fourth of his time serving the empire stranded in enemy territory- completely lost.

"You can call me Nilene."

"Pleased to meet you."

They had come to a stop beside a narrow stream, pouring between two great ridges of stone, several miles east of where he had found her. She was barefoot, once again, and was cooling her feet off in the running waters, while Thromwick sat on a small boulder, and wiped his brow. "What were you doing so close to the mercenary's camp?" she finally asked him, still troubled over Paraldar's death.

He looked up at her, his forehead now streaked with clean skin, "I was just passing through, actually, trying to find my way to the border with Gatefield. I noticed some of their patrols, and was doing my best to stay out of sight, when I heard those other soldiers moving in. I was going to move on, when I heard you two coming down the path."

"Oh," Nilene replied with an odd tone. Gods-damned timing! She couldn't allow herself to dwell over it, "You have a long way to go, back in the other direction, I might add, if you want to get to Gatefield. You'd be better off coming with me to Thunder head. We can't be that far from Farthestar, and Thunderhead is still under Imperial control, last I heard. I was going there when the mercenaries captured me..."

"Oh," it was Thromwick's turn to reply. He had heard stories about the sorts of things the undisciplined mercenary companies did to women. "I'm sorry."

Nilene sighed, and moved over to sit next to him, "Don't worry about it." She reached over with a wet hand, and he scrunched up his face while she tried to clean it off better. "Dear gods, you don't look a day older than me!"

The young legionnaire glanced down at the small bumps protruding through the low-cut tunic she wore, "Well," he stammered, "I don't know about that. You may look a little old for your age, but I'm about to turn eighteen."

Nilene folded her arms over her chest, "I'm a late bloomer! And I'll have you know I'm seventeen too!"

Thromwick looked bashful, and tried to change the subject- "So, who was attacking those mercenaries, anyway? Did you get a good look at them?"

"They were with the Resistance, I believe."

He stood up in a rush, and looked down at her, "What?! No! I've been hoping to run into them!"

Nilene couldn't stop herself from laughing, but she put a hand over her mouth to cover it. Thromwick glared down at her.

She glared back, "Well its your own damn fault for laying low, instead of getting a closer look for yourself! It's certainly too late now."

He sighed, and sat back down, shoulder's hunched. "Well, I think they were headed east too, so maybe we can still catch up with them."

Nilene glanced at his waist. "Don't you have a sword?"

He blushed, "I traded it to a farmer for some food."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, and stood up, "Well, we're not going to run into the Resistance sitting on this rock. Follow me."

It took them two days to wind their way out of the rugged back country on foot, and onto the dry flat-lands where many of North Dramore's farmer's had once eked out a living. A few still did, but two, going on three years of solid warfare over their nation had left many of them dead, their homesteads burned, and crops set ablaze. Finding a road that would lead them eastward, they trudged on, seeing no one else moving from horizon to horizon.

Thromwick Leatherman was inexperienced, and in way over his head, but Nilene decided she liked him anyway, although he in no way inspired romantic feelings. Paraldar would remain as one of that rare few she would meet in her life. She noticed him glancing at her from time to time, and if she was in a playful mood, she may purposefully stand around in a provocative way, but he never made any sort of move on her. He was too bashful. And inexperienced.

The fact that he could get lost in a kingdom only a few hundred miles across seemed totally appropriate to her. But he meant well, and had his uses.

For one thing, he had excellent vision, "There's a town up ahead." It was getting close to dusk, and she peered ahead, but couldn't spy out the twinkling lights he had spotted. After a few more minutes of steady walking, she saw that he was in fact correct. They were both famished, and hurried their pace.

The sign they passed as they drew closer to the partially burned settlement, named it as Grollings. Nilene thought she had once heard her father mention that name, but knew nothing else about it. The outer buildings of the small village were in charred ruins, but most of the buildings at it's center were intact. A makeshift wall had been erected between the structures, the difference between life and death, the day the Dramicine Knights swept down upon them.

It was now fully night, and there were people still moving about in the open, common peasants for the most part, and they seemed to be in a celebratory mood. Someone handed Thromwick a mug of frothy ale as they walked along, but Nilene snatched it away from him, and chugged it down, since, "Legionnaires aren't supposed to get drunk while they're on duty."

"On Duty? Are you crazy?"

She whirled about, walking backwards for several steps to bat her eyelashes at him, "You're escorting me to Thunderhead! That means you're on duty." She swigged the last few drops of ale, and wiped off her lips. "Doesn't it?"

He frowned, but didn't disagree. They came upon a inn, a three-story wooden building with a patio. There was crowd, outside and within, and Nilene and Thromwick pushed their way inside.

Nilene managed to navigate over to the bar, pulling Thromwick behind her by his armored shoulder. An old man was bustling back and forth behind the bar, trying fill everyone's demands for drinks. Waiting for him to have a moment to breath, she leaned over at him, "Hey, barkeep! This may be an insane question, but do you have any rooms still available?"

He moved over towards her, taking off his glasses to clean them, replying irritably, "Yeah, I got plenty of rooms. Most of these are locals," He thrust his chin out, indicating the crowd. He put the glasses back on, slipping down to the tip of his nose as soon as he let go of the frames. He peered at Nilene, "You two need a room, huh? Do you have any coin?"

Nilene smiled awkwardly, explaining, "Yeah, coin... As you may be able to tell, we've been lost out in the back country for some time, escaping from mercenaries."

The old man gestured to the crowd, "They were taken down by the Resistance- that's why everyone is in such a damned good mood!"

She nodded, "That's how we escaped." She paused, and looked at him thoughtfully, "Well, I have an idea: If you would permit me to, uh... work the room, for a little while, I am sure I could come up with enough currency to pay for our room and board." She yanked Thromwick forward, until he bumped into the bar, "But this boy, here, needs something to eat before he falls over dead."

The old man turned his regard to Thromwick, "He certainly does..." he thought it over. "Okay, lass, I wouldn't normally permit any old random girl off the street to 'work' my customers, as you put it, but since all my girls are off at a private engagement... Alright, lass, you have a deal."

They shook hands over the bar, and he stepped around to lead Thromwick over to a table in the corner, by the kitchen doors. Nilene turned to face the crowd, and started to look around.

Finding a likely looking farmer, she invited him upstairs, and slipped him into her mouth as soon as they were alone. He slipped her three gold coins for her effort, and she tossed two of them at the old man, before prowling the room again. They needed more than room and board, before they could move on.

Taking more time to be choosy, she maneuvered her way to the far side of the room. Sitting at a booth, with a dark-haired girl in his lap, was a man who made Nilene's heart skip a beat. He was nothing at all like Paraldar- He was Connelarian, a pure blood by his looks,dressed in a riding harness with no insignia, over a dark green ruffled shirt. He looked as if he would only stand a handspan taller than her, and he had a styled mustache, as black as his hair, which twisted into waxed curls. She had seen this look before- he was a nobleman of Old Connelar.

He started to ignore the girl on his lap as soon as she approached him. Her clothes were dirty, and she could only guess at what her hair must have looked like. In a huff, the other girl hopped off his lap, and stormed away. He didn't seem to notice. Nilene smiled at him seductively, "Want to head upstairs with me?"

She gave him a few bare-bones details about her situation, as they went upstairs, so as to ensure that he had no illusions that she wasn't about to do anything for free. As it turned out, he already had a room.

"Benly lets me stay here whenever I'm in town. Payback for a favor I once did for him." He was explaining, as he lit a few lanterns. He looked her over, as she herself looked around he room. "You really do look like you've been out in the back country."

She smirked, and looked down at her dirty dress, "That's why I need to scare up some coin. I need a bath, and some new clothes, and my companion needs it doubly so. He was out there way longer than I was."

Roddinklerk looked at her thoughtfully, "If it's simply a matter of money, I have more than enough that I could give to help you get back on your feet. You needn't have to-"

Nilene giggled, "I don't mind."

"What about your companion?" he queried.

Nilene laughed, "What? Oh, no! He's not- that boy is far too young for my tastes. He's not that kind of companion."

Roddinklerk laughed, "Forgive me, please! I shouldn't have assumed." There was a long awkward moment, "So how do you want to go about this?" He had been to dozens of brothels over the course of his life, but there was something about this girl that made him feel giddy, and a little stupid.

She sat down, and patted his bed, "Sit down here, on the edge for me..." he complied. He turned out to be smaller than Paraldar, (how could he not be? Paraldar was a huge man), but he was still a good size bigger than Gevane had been, which was enough for Nilene, (for the rest of her life they would be her basis for comparison). Using only her mouth, she gave him an extremely memorable experience.

They stayed in Grollings for three days, all together, but thanks to Roddinklerk, Nilene hadn't needed to do any more 'work', to pay their way. Benly, the old bartender, was more than happy to have them there, as business was pretty dismal most of the time, but didn't argue when they decided to move on. He would go to Thunderhead too, if his old legs could carry him.

Thromwick was now clean, with new clothes- even if they were homespun. They decided to ditch his armor, after washing it off, but made sure to keep all of his rank insignia, and his legion badge. The armor harness proved to be too battered to trade, but Roddinklerk had given her enough anyway, to afford a badly forged sword for Thromwick, and a much more reliable looking dagger for herself. As they left town, striking east along the road, she was wearing a brown peasant skirt, and a checkered blouse. Heavy leather boots shod her feet, and she had her new dagger hidden in one of their cuffs. She had a backpack, with some food, and a few changes of clothing tucked inside. Thromwick was likewise equipped, his sword hanging by his side. Her lengthening hair was tied back in a ponytail, that bounced as they walked along.

They walked for days across the flats, not daring to light a fire while they hunkered down at night, in the fields alongside the road. Once in a while they would pass a burned down home, once even an entire town, which had not escaped its fate like Grollings had. Thromwick's morale seemed low all the time, it was a constant effort to cheer him up. She didn't know it, but it was largely in part to the fact that he was watching her, when she went upstairs with Roddinklerk, as he ate the soup Benly had brought for him. He had secretly fallen in love with her, from the first moment he saw her being dragged along by that brute. The fact that she so brazenly called him too young for her, while flirting outrageously with him all the while, had lead him to certain conclusions. Conclusions that were dashed as he watched her going upstairs, holding that man's hand.

So he walked along beside her, silent. Feeling betrayed for reasons that were not at all her fault, wishing he didn't have to feel this way. After the long months of hiding and scrambling to survive, this was the worst wound of all.

He, of course, had no clue whatsoever that she was actually a boy.

On the fourth day out from Grollings, they started to see the low peaks of distant mountains, rising up ahead. The border of Farthestar. They stepped up their pace a bit, but it wouldn't help them reach those peaks any faster. It would still take days to reach them- let alone cross them. And there was something much closer up ahead.

It was an old farmhouse, built right up against the road. How it had escaped the destructive urges of the armies that had passed up and down that very road, seemed apparent as they came closer. It was old- ancient. The boards that formed it's siding were so dry as the be almost petrified, and they were pulling away from each other, creating large gaps through which light seeped through.

Stooping in front of it, Nilene turned to face it, with her fists on her hips, frowning. It seemed the very essence of 'abandoned'.

"What do you think?" she asked her moody companion.

He shrugged, barely looking at the house, "Doesn't look like anyone's around... I don't know, I guess It'd be nice to sleep with a roof over my head, for a change."

Nilene nodded, but not entirely in agreement, "We should at least check it out. Stay on your guard though."

Nilene stepped towards the building, and Thromwick watched her go for a few seconds, before following. Why did she always have to boss him around? And always take the initiative? Girls weren't like that, back where he came from. (Or so he believed.)

The wooden steps leading up to the shriveled door creaked loudly under Nilene's weight. The door was not locked. Nilene stepped inside cautiously, looking around before entering the room.

That's all the inside was, one big room, well lit from all the sunlight pouring in as dusty beams. A faded rug covered the creaking boards of the floor, and there was a few pieces of furniture; tables, chairs, a bed, that looked just as mummified as the house. Thromwick followed her in, an whistled, "Doesn't look,like anyone has been here for years-"

"Get your hands up where I can see 'em!" A voice announced from out of nowhere, "The both of you!"

They complied without hesitation, Thromwick dropping his sword to clatter loudly on the floor. An old man, as old as the house in all likelihood, was emerging from a hole in the floor, behind one of the tables. In his hands was a crossbow, and despite being toothless and half-senile, his aim was steady.

"Turn around, slowly now!" he barked at them, and Nilene turned to see that he was aiming right at her. She tried to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. "What do you two think you're doing in here?"

Nilene stammered, "Sir, we, ah- we are refugees, sir, on our, uh, way to the border. We, uh, were just checking to see if this place was abandoned, and if we could seek shelter-"

"My house ain't abandoned! I'll-"

The old man was interrupted by a younger voice, "Will you give it a rest, grandpa? Can't you see it's just a couple of kids?" A man, vaguely resembling the old coot, emerged from the trapdoor, and stood up to greet them. He had a local mix of features, and was probably only a couple of years older than them. "Don't mind him, ma'am," he looked at Nilene apologetically, "He's a little paranoid these days."

Nilene slowly lowered her arms, "I could hardly blame him, but I swear, we don't intend you any harm. We were just passing through, and-"

Thromwick rushed the old man, who didn't have time to fire his bolt. Thromwick grabbed the end of the crossbow, and yanked hard, kicking a foot into the old man's belly. He fell back with a crash, wedged painfully into the trapdoor. Thromwick also fell backwards, and crashed into Nilene, managing to keep his balance as the younger man tried to grab for the weapon. The crossbow went off with a loud twang, and the young farmer staggered back, clutching his chest, where the bolt had lodged itself.

"Why?" he croaked, as he stumbled to his knees. Thromwick didn't stick around to answer, he spun on his heel, and bolted out the door. Nilene looked around for a moment wildly, before backing out, and racing off after Thromwick.

She found the crossbow laying in the middle of the road, about a hundred yards before she caught up to him, panting on his knees. He had vomited on the dry grass alongside the road.

"You forgot this." She held the weapon out to him. Nilene was furious. The house was now a dot on the western horizon.

He waved her away, "Why would I need a crossbow, without any bolts?"

She threw it to the ground hard enough to make it bounce. "What in the Twin-Hells were you thinking back there?!"

"I was- already planning on rushing the old man," he gulped air, trying to fight back his surging bile, "When the other guy popped up, I just- I just panicked, okay?!"

She put a hand to her forehead, and looked back at the distant house, before looking back down on him, "I'm starting to wonder if the legions left you behind on purpose!"

He paled, but couldn't respond to her stinging commentary, he heaved again, trying to aim for the grass. He wiped his mouth off, "I, I never killed a civilian before."

"Well, Throm, you picked a great day to start!" She gestured madly, and then dropped her arms, and stalked off down the road.

After a minute, he realized she wasn't stopping. "Hey, wait! Don't leave me here!" He stomped off after her.

Two days later, the mountains loomed closer, and the flat-lands gave way to North Dramore's only pleasant territory, right along it's eastern borders. It had not been untouched, but the region had been relatively unscathed by the war. Dotting the flanks of the bordering mountains, (which were actually a low out-thrust arm of the High Drams), were green woodlands, and pleasant meadows, criss-crossed by streams and a few real rivers. It was considered frontier territory, and had never been densely inhabited, but as Nilene and Thromwick approached, they could see the wisps of smoke rising from hundreds- possibly thousands, of little campfires. The verdant borderlands had become a massive refugee camp, as people fled east seeking entry to Farthestar. Nilene had never anticipated being stopped at the border.

An arc of forest swept down to meet the road, before they would reach the camps further up the mountain slopes. As they entered it, they both relaxed, eased by the dappled green colors, and the sounds of birds chirping in the canopy. They stopped to rest, sitting amongst the roots of a gnarled old tree. Nilene broke out the last of their food, and as they sat and ate in silence, Nilene thought she could hear a faint rumbling in the distance.

Thromwick heard it too, "Horses." He declared, putting down his sandwich, "Coming up fast." They ducked behind the tree, and tried to stay low and out of sight, as a dozen or so riders raced by, bearing east along the road. One of them, the leader, checked his horse, and turned about to come back. Risking a peak, Nilene was shocked to recognize Mactar, swinging off his saddle. He had seen the napkin that had wrapped Thromwick's sandwich, laying on the ground where he dropped it.

He drew his sword, as the other riders came to a stop around him, dismounting. Nilene looked over at Thromwick, and knew what she had to do. She could handle what the mercenaries would do with her. But they would kill Thromwick...

Before he could stop her, she bolted away from the tree, running deeper into the forest, taking a course that would draw the mercenaries' attention. "Somebody stop her!" she heard Mactar's voice call out, and she ran full tilt, drawing them away from the young legionnaire.

She reached a narrow strip of meadow, surrounded by a green wall of trees, and she could hear the men racing up on her heels. Halfway across the field, she heard another voice rise in command, "FIRE!"

Men sprang up from the grass all around her, brandishing crossbows, which they used to shoot a cloud of stinging bolts into the onrushing mercenaries. Those few that didn't fall, turned to flee back into the forest. Most of the men moved to pursue them, but several came to stand around Nilene, who looked at the cloaked figures nervously.

One of them threw back his hood, revealing a mane of blonde hair, "Don't worry ma'am, we're with the Resistance. My name is Yaevers."

Several minutes later, the men began to reassemble in the meadow, one of them pushing Thromwick along, with a hand on his shoulder. "Look what I found up a tree!"

The men laughed, but Nilene rushed up to Thromwick, "Please! Don't hurt him! He's with me!" She spun around to look at Yaevers, "He's with the Legions!"

That peaked Yaever's interest, he sauntered over, "Let the boy go, Darreck!" The men cleared a space for him, as he came to stand in front of Thromwick, who fished his badge out of a pocket.

Looking at it carefully, Yaevers barked at him, "Did you forget how to salute, Private?"

A look of fear in his eyes, Thromwick snapped to attention, "Sir!"

"What's your name Private, and what are you doing out of uniform?"

He gulped, and spoke by rote, "Private, Second-Class, Thromwick Leatherman! I was separated from my battalion, sir, when they evacuated to Gatefield. I have been trying to find a safe route out of North Dramore ever since-"

Yaevers laughed, "There are no safe routes out of North Dramore these days, kid! Even the ones we hold!" he looked around at his men, "Alright, we're taking these two with us! I want to reach the new camp before nightfall, so let's hop too it!"

CHAPTER FIVE: the Nirik Resistance

Roddinklerk was in a good mood. He had just received word by pigeon, that Lord Dramore had finally responded. The successful raid on the Western Company had tipped the scales- with the entire kingdom now in a state of uprising, under the banner of Duke Nirik no less, Lord Dramore's hand was forced. He had to move to crush the resistance, once and for all. His entire personal regiment had almost finished crossing the back-country, and steam-driven siege engines now threatened to descend upon the village of Grollings. Roddinklerk had Archimere exactly where he wanted him.

Mirema's replacement, a young male corporal who Roddinklerk cared for not at all, entered Roddinklerk's tent, and stood waiting. Roddinklerk sighed- Mirema wouldn't have stood around waiting to be formally addressed, she would have come right out with it. He had a lock of her hair tucked amongst his personal items.

"What is it, Corporal?" He asked after giving the young man several more seconds to take the initiative.

"Sir! Lieutenant Yaevers has returned, sir! He has brought two refugees with him, sir! One is a young woman, Sir! And the other claims to be a Legionnaire, Sir! Stranded after the evacuation, Sir!"

If Roddinklerk had to listen to him bark out "Sir!" one more time...

"Thank you, Corporal, You're dismissed." He replied, stepping past him to get outside before the last "Sir!" passed his lips.

It was just after sunset, and the air was already chilled at that higher altitude. He could see Yaevers and his men a ways off, their breath steaming, and started towards them.

"Corporal Gabenal told me you brought me a few visitors." he said as he walked up, reaching out to put a hand on Yaever's shoulder.

Yaevers returned the gesture, "Aye, Colonel. The lad says he's with Fourth Battalion, and the girl is-"

"You!" Roddinklerk exclaimed, looking at the girl.

"You!" responded Nilene, looking back at him.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Do you know her, sir?" Yaevers asked.

Roddinklerk laughed, "Oh, we've met before..." he looked her over, "I see you managed to get back on your feet, like we talked about."

She shrugged, "At least long enough to reach the border, it seems."

The men, his men, were all staring at him. Yaevers coughed. Roddinklerk switched his attention to the red-faced boy beside her. "And who do we have here?"

The boy sprang rigid and saluted, "Sir! Private, Second-Class, Thromwick Leatherman, Sir! Fourth Battalion, Sir!"

Roddinklerk pinched the ridge of his nose, and shook his head slightly. Nilene smiled. "Gabenal!"

"-Yes, sir?-" came a distant response.

"Report, Corporal!"

His assistant ran up, "Sir?"

Roddinklerk forked his fingers, to point at both of them, "See to it that she gets suitable lodgings, and enter him in the logs. He's a wayward private, and I'm sure he's eager to get back to work."

"Yes, sir!" Gabenal lead the two of them away, and Roddinklerk turned to return to his tent, his men staring at him the entire way.

"The Gods gave that man all the luck..." Yaevers muttered, grinning.

Once she saw the inside of the tent they were giving her, she knew she was likely to stay there awhile, if she could. It was unadorned, but furnished with a rug and cushions. It was fairly cozy, only big enough for two people if they slept together. And it was blue. She loved it immediately, and laid down on the cushions after Gabenal left her, staring at the ceiling with her hands under her head.

She fell asleep smiling.

Hurra was delighted to see her. It was not long after Nilene awoke and stumbled from her tent to greet the new day, that the Old Duke's mistress spied her, and came running up laughing. "Nilene! I thought it was you... when I heard about the new girl Yaevers had brought in! Where do you know the Colonel from?"

Nilene stood stiffly when Hurra first embraced her, but eventually warmed, and hugged her back. "Oh, him?" she replied, attempting to sound innocent, "I ran into him in Grollings, after I finally made it out of those hills. He, uh, bought me a drink- but we didn't sleep together, if that's what you think!" Nilene added hastily at the end.

Hurra gave her a suspicious look, but it broke back down into a smile, and she put an arm over Nilene's shoulder, "Well, I'm just glad to see you're okay. I was starting to worry that heathen man of yours had dragged you off back west, in the wrong direction!"

Nilene glanced away from her, as Hurra steered her down a central path between the officer's tents, "Thank Thromwick for that, I guess. He ambushed Paraldar, and brained him with a hammer."

"Ouch!" Hurra winced, sympathetically patting Nilene's arm, "I'm sorry, dear. I never would have wished something like that upon him. He never meant you any harm..."

Nilene sounded bitter, "I was only doing what I had to do to survive- I, I have no intention of living the rest of my life as a w-" she hesitated, people were around, "as this!"

Hurra understood all too well. Hadn't that been what she had been doing since she had run away from the family farm at the age of sixteen? Playing along to survive? "Once we get across Farthestar, and reach the border of Thunderhead, we can put you back the way you were. Can't do anything about the memories though, I'm afraid."

"I-" Nilene started to reply, but a young officer was running towards them waving his arm.

"Wait!" he called out to them. In his other arm was a bundle of clothing.

Nilene and Hurra stood dutifully, still in the morning shadow of the mountain rising around them. The man jogged up to them and stopped, barely breathing hard. "Excuse me, ladies, but you wouldn't happen to be Nilene, would you?"

Nilene nodded warily, "Yep, that's me." He didn't catch the sarcasm in her voice.

He held out the bundle, "These are from private Leatherman. Yaevers is having him bust his rump with the new recruits, and he sent these over to you. Says to tell you 'Thanks for the loan, but I don't need them anymore."

Nilene took the bundle, "Thank you, corporal." He didn't remark that she recognized his insignia, but gave her a casual salute, and went back along his daily business.

"Those from that Thromwitch guy?" Hurra asked curiously.

"Thromwick." Nilene corrected her, "He's only a few months older than me, but he's still just a kid. Killing Paraldar was about the only time he showed any spine." She looked at the clothes in her hands, "I ought to go stash these with the rest of my things. They may find a use some day."

After running to her tent, and back, Hurra gave Nilene a tour of the Resistance/Refugee camp. She was not happy to hear Hurra explain that the reason why so many were gathered along the gentle mountainside was that Farthestar had sealed it's borders. Anyone caught crossing out of North Dramore was held and questioned, before being escorted back over the border. Repeat offenders were executed as assumed Dramicine spies. Roddinklerk and his men had leave to enter Farthestar, which was still an ally of the empire, but they had little time to ferry civilians back and forth over the mountain pass. And to be explicitly honest, Roddinklerk and his officers also wondered how many of Lord Dramore's agents hid themselves amongst all the uncounted people.

Plus, the presence of the refugees, and any spies who may lurk in their midst, served Roddinklerk's plans. He wanted to provide Lord Dramore with so fat a target that he would finally bring his regiment into the flats. Out in the flats, where Roddinklerk would spring his trap.

As Hurra took Nilene throughout the mingled campgrounds, many were the sets of eyes that noted the young woman's passage. Not all of them looked upon her with attraction. Toba had one of these, his jaw now framed in a more professional harness, bolted right into his jaw to force it back into shape. It was still covered in gauze, wrapped from his chin to the top of his head, giving his face a squeezed look. But he was finally up and about on his feet, thanks to Roddinklerk's field surgeon, who had built him the new harness.

Wearing a robe, he was seated on a thatched divan, outside of the healers' tent, sipping a fruit drink through a straw, (it was about as big a thing as he could open his mouth for, he had to have all his food liquified as well). The resistance still had no clue as to his name or loyalties, as all of his words came out a terrible mush, between the broken jaw and his own thick accent, but he was enjoying himself at their expense, and that suited him fine.

Until he saw the girl- The girl Gevane stole from him... He dropped his glass to the side, and shot up to his feet, bumping his head on one of the thin wooden beams supporting the tent's roof. He "Urmphd!" with pain, rubbing his head gingerly, as he straddle-stepped over the divan, to get a closer look.

It was her alright, along with that other one that Barhala had nabbed right off. They looked like they were having a pleasant time, laughing and comparing notes on how they betrayed the Western Company... Toba's heart surged with a nomad's hate.

They were doing no such thing, of course. Hurra had Lead Nilene all around the main body of the camp, pointing out the scattered refugee camps lower down the slope. As Toba was watching them furtively, Hurra was pointing to the central tents. "-And that one is the Colonel's command. It's where he meets with his officers and the resistance leaders, to go over their plans." Hurra blinked, "Oh, there's the man himself!"

Roddinklerk strode from the tent, his armor still devoid of insignia. Behind him came a shorter man, thin-bodied, with tussled black hair. Nilene recognized his uniform as that of an Imperial Ranger. The Ranger hurried off as if the sky might bite him, clutching a stack of papers to his chest. Roddinklerk stood heroically, hands on hips, and looked over the entire sweep of the campsite- until they fell upon Nilene, watching him.

He ducked his head for a moment, and thought hard for a second, before he looked back up at her, and walked straight over.

He bowed, with a flourish of an arm, "My ladies! I trust that the both of you are having a fine morning?"

Hurra replied courteously, "Of course, my Lord, it is a beautiful day!"

Nilene took a different tack, "This whole place is inviting an attack! You have people roaming around freely in a military camp... No security to speak of- just what kind of resistance are you trying to run around here?"

Roddinklerk did a double-take at her, this girl was full of surprises! "You have good eyes, lass! That is exactly what I am doing."

"What?!" Nilene was incredulous, "Are you trying to get these people killed?"

Roddinklerk glanced at Hurra, and rocked his head to the side, indicating that she should leave the two of them alone. He put his hands on her shoulders, and looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them.

They were.

"How bout we continue this inside?" Roddinklerk asked, grimacing.

He lead her up to the command tent, and held open a curtain for her to pass within. A low round table, with folding hinges, was in the very middle of the room, covered in charts and papers and war miniatures, and around the table was eight or nine low cushions, in lieu of chairs. There was a coffee service set up in a corner, and a comfortable looking cot on the other side of he room. Asides from a few hanging lanterns, the room's only adornment was a large, highly-detailed map of Greater Dramore and the Contested Lands. North Dramore was just a tiny wedge touching the coast of the Freezing Sea.

"Before you say anything," Roddinklerk began sternly, "Know that these people are not in any true danger. Farthestar's Colonial Council has agreed to let them pass should the Dramicine attack, but that is a remote possibility. I am using them as bait, to lure in Lord Dramore himself."

Nilene wouldn't let it go, "You reckless man! These could very well be the last of my people!"

He took her meaning to be general, not authoritative, "Look, I didn't travel all the way out here from the empire, just to be upbraided by some teenage gir-"

Nilene stepped up to him, not listening, "Do you think Nirik would really condone this?"

Roddinklerk faltered mid-speech, and looked at her blankly, "Did you know him?" That could explain her knowledge of tactics- the daughter of a local noble?

Nilene was hesitant to answer, but had to say something, lest he grow suspicious. "I once thought I did, but now..." She then glared at him, "I do know, however, that you don't have him hidden away in some 'Secret Cavern' as you have claimed, running the resistance from the shadows! He was vain, and would have shown himself by now. And I- he certainly didn't pay enough attention to his tutors, to successfully mount a guerrilla campaign!" Her heart beat strongly in her chest, but Roddinklerk hadn't caught her near-slip of the tongue.

Roddinklerk was shocked that so young a woman could have seen so easily through him- how many suspected? "Just who in the Twin-Hells are you?"

Nilene smiled coldly, "Don't you know? I've been whoever I've had to be, since the Duke was murdered! And now I reach the border, hoping to get back to my normal life, and I find you of all people, parked here in front of a closed border!" She turned away from him, and took several steps towards the curtain over the entrance, before she stopped, "I'm sorry, I- I haven't had an... easy time since... since-"

He stepped up behind her, and put his palm over her shoulder, "You don't have to explain. War has always been harder on women-"

Nilene pulled away from his hand, and stopped again, with her back still turned to him. She bit her lip- she was not going to let herself start crying in front of this man.

"If it makes you feel any better, you are right," he offered, explaining as she turned around, "About Nirik. I don't have him up in a cave... I don't have a clue where he is!"

Nilene smirked, but didn't reply.

Hurra had wanted to know what all the Colonel had spoken to her about, but Nilene was quiet, and she decided the girl wanted to be left alone. This is probably the first place she's been able to feel safe since they had fled the central tower- and she had experienced much that she would need time to properly digest.

Nilene wandered around the camp alone, with no destination or direction. She simply wanted to stretch her legs. As sunset loomed, she found her way to one of the big cooking fires, and got herself a plate-full of a local concoction of shredded fish and cornmeal. She took this with her back to her blue tent, and sat on the ground out front of it, eating while she watched the sun sink red beyond the west.

A voice spoke from over her shoulder, cheerful, "Do you mind if I join you?"

She looked up- it was Yaevers, who sat himself down next to her, cross-legged, without waiting for her permission.

"Uh, sure..."

Yaevers grinned, and dug into his food, telling her between bites, "You know- the entire camp is in an tizzy over you..."

Nilene's eyes widened, "What for?"

Yaevers looked mischievous, "The Colonel. We've never seen him so flustered over a lady before."

"Really?!" She sounded more surprised than pleased by this news. "But he- we didn't-"

He raised his spoon at her for silence, "Don't give me that- I've been asking around, and your friend Leatherman is a font of knowledge on the subject. And he says you and the Colonel spent some time alone together in Grollings... So, what's the story?"

Nilene grimaced, suddenly feeling angry after hearing that Thromwick had been talking about that. "That would be between me, and the Colonel, I reckon. What interest is it of yours' anyway?"

Yaevers smiled, "About twenty coins worth of interest, if I wagered correctly." he winked at her, "I'm betting that you didn't put out, and that's why he is in such a-"

"YAEVERS!"

At hearing his name, the blonde officer jumped, spilling his plate to the ground. He shot to his feet, and saluted, "Yes, sir!"

Roddinklerk stepped out of the shadows, and into the light cast by the closest campfire, telling his lieutenant in a voice that would brook no sass, "I think the recruits are having a little trouble clearing out the latrines, Yaevers. I would like you to go down to them, and personally demonstrate the proper legion procedure for disposing of waste."

Yaevers paled, but dared not argue, "Y- yes, sir!" He waited for Roddinklerk to dismiss him, and then went off to do as ordered.

Roddinklerk smiled, watching him go, and then turned his head to look down at Nilene, "Sorry about that. Legionnaires are about as notorious as ravens, for gossip."

She smiled at him guardedly, "That would seem to be an understatement. Did you hear what he was asking me?"

He actually blushed, "Yes, I did, but I want to assure you that-"

"Don't worry about it." She cut him off, "I've faced worse."

He cocked his head to the side, "Is that why, when we um... met, why you didn't want to stay the night with me?"

Nilene looked off to the western sky, now dotted with stars. "Something like that. I was with the mercenaries for awhile."

Roddinklerk looked down, and scuffed one of his boots, "I'm sorry..."

"I said don't worry about it." Nilene sighed, and looked at him until he turned his gaze back up from his feet, "I'm restless, and I don't feel like talking so... publicly." She nodded towards the mountain, "Feel up for a hike?"

Roddinklerk considered, trying to remember if he had anything else to see too right then, "Why not?" he shrugged, and followed her as she strolled away.

They reached a crest of rock, still a ways below the mountain's peak, but now in sight of the eastern face of the mountain. Pausing to catch their breath, Roddinklerk sat on a rock with his head in between his hands, while Nilene leaned against a boulder, and took in the view. He looked over at her to see what she was staring at.

"That's Farthestar, you're looking at." He informed her.

She grimaced, "Too bad it's nighttime, and I can't get a better look at it." She panned her gaze around, "There, that looks to be as comfortable a spot as any, come on!" She went around the edge of the ridge a few steps, and into a small alcove with a sunken floor, about four or five feet across. Roddinklerk, alarmed when she disappeared around the edge, stood up to follow.

"We need to talk." She said, as he stepped into the dark pocket of stone. He fumbled at the walls as he lowered himself to a seated position, across from her and brushing knees.

"Okay, so let's talk. What's on your mind?"

Nilene took a deep breath to steady herself- chickened out, and asked instead, "Is it true, what Yaevers said? That I have you flustered more than any other girl they've seen you with?"

Roddinklerk pulled back, embarrassed, "Well I- I can't really say. I guess? Maybe?" He tried to make out her features in the deep shadows, "What kind of question is that to ask a man, anyway?"

"I was only wondering if your Lieutenant spoke true. Maybe I don't need a man hounding after me while I'm trying to get out of the country."

Roddinklerk frowned, "I have not been... 'hounding' after you. It's just..."

"Just what?"

He sighed with exasperation, "It's just that, that night, when we met in Grollings, when you, did that... that was better than anything I've ever felt! I-" he faltered.

Nilene folded her arms over her chest, "What are you trying to say?"

"I- well, you see, don't misunderstand me, I've always preferred doing it the 'regular' way, but ever since that night, I-" He muttered the last guiltily, "I just can't stop thinking about it."

Nilene smiled in the dark, "Would you like me to-"

"Oh, Saints-yes, please!"

Nilene moved forward, to get down between his legs. There, in a secret cave, hidden near the top of the mountain, Nilene gave the Colonel her blessing.

They kept at a discreet distance for the next several days, speaking casually if they happened to cross paths, but careful not to linger too long, or let themselves get caught alone together. It was one thing for Roddinklerk to go off into town to find some action, but he felt strange about it in camp, with his men all around to witness.

On her end, Nilene was just thankful that Roddinklerk had so easily taken to the idea that she couldn't have sex due to injuries sustained while with the mercenaries. She couldn't trust that the dashing lady's-man would be sympathetic to her own... unique circumstances. And if knowing she were a boy, he were to figure out that she was Nirik...

Another part of her mind, one buried deep down in her psyche for months, argued with her. She should give up this charade, and reclaim what was rightfully his! Dragging things out with Roddinklerk by not telling him the truth will only hurt him- best to let him down before he gets too attached. He was the perfect person to announce Nirik's return, she could even blackmail him, if she had too.

No. None of that. But she should tell him.

Roddinklerk was finishing up a meeting, and had just shooed the last of his officers out of the command tent, when he heard a rustle of paper. Looking behind him, he saw nothing at first, until he spied a small folded note sticking out from under the wall of the tent. He picked it up, and read it, twice, before he crumpled it in his fist with a look of triumph.

Four words: We need to talk.

When he reached the cave, Roddinklerk discovered that she had brought a lantern along with her. With the slender opening of the hollow alcove facing east, the dim light it cast could not be seen by anyone below in the camp.

"Good evening, Nilene." he smiled as he sat down.

She looked at him, and her voice was silenced. Damn this man! Why couldn't she make herself tell him!

She gave him a faltering smile instead, and replied, "Hello, Colonel." She felt uncomfortable, and looked doubly so.

"Is something the matter?" he seemed genuinely worried for a second, "Your note said you wanted to talk, I thought-"

Nilene raised a hand, and found her voice, "It's alright, I'm just a little winded from the climb up." She lied convincingly, "I should be fine in a minute or two."

He leaned forward, and patted her knee, "Are you sure? We can always go back down if you need t-"

Damn him! Nilene almost wished that the men she kept meeting would treat her foully, instead of with kindness. It made things harder for her. Unable to stop herself, she leaned towards him, and silenced him by pressing her lips to his.

They pulled away after a long moment, and Roddinklerk naturally drew her too him, and they embraced again. She gripped his arms, and one of his hands pressed itself firmly into the small of her back. This hand made its way down and around her waist, to trace a line along her outer thigh to her knee, and around to the inside-

"Oomph, hey!" She exclaimed, putting a hand on his wrist to stop his advance. "It's still too soon-"

He pulled his hand back, "Oh, sorry! I forgot there for a second, I didn't mean to..."

Nilene looked into his eyes, and made a decision. "It's not your fault, I wish I could, really... but I may have an idea..." She winked at him naughtily.

Sitting in his lap as she was, Nilene could feel him stir beneath her, "What manner of idea?"

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, "I have another... way in, that you could use..." she pulled back from him, "-if you want..."

He seemed open to the idea, as it turned out.

Nilene turned away from him, nestling her bottom against his groin as she lent over to shut off the lantern, and grab for her bag. She fished out a small bottle, which she had sworn she would never need to use when she had bought it back in Grollings. She stood up, and told him to pull his pants off, as she let her skirt slide down around her feet. Taking a large dab of sweet-oil from the bottle, she pulled her panties down just a few inches, enough for her to rub the oil on herself.

She turned her back to him, standing between his legs. She pulled her panties down just a fraction more, so that he could get inside, without seeing anything she didn't want him to see. She reached back to grab him, holding him steady while she lowered herself down. No going back now- She could never reveal to Roddinklerk who she really was, not after this...

It had been a few weeks since she had last lain with Paraldar, and her sphincter had felt fully mended for the last several days. She felt a moment's trepidation as he pressed up against her, afraid that it would hurt all over again like the first time, but her fears were groundless. With surprising ease, he entered her, and she slowly slid down his entire length, until she rested on his lap. Her muscles, after two months with the mercenaries, had finally learned the trick of working in both directions, but she moaned deeply, "Ah, unghhh!" She gasped for breath, "Oh, by the Gods-"

He reached up under her shirt, to rub a hand on her back encouragingly, "I'm not too big for you, am I?"

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath after she had been fully impaled, "No, uh- you're, oh you're fine! It's just been awhile..." She rose up experimentally, but sank back down immediately, "I just need a second, ungh, to get- to get used to it-"

He held himself still, rubbing her back gently. She felt herself start to adjust to this again, and once again started to rise. She made it a good deal further this time, before she settled back, and as she began to find her rhythm, Roddinklerk threw back his head, and fluttered his eyelids, as he invoked, "Nilene!"

Roddinklerk walked her most of the way back down the mountain, before they parted. Unwilling to let go of her hand, he told her, "I have to see you again! I've- I've never met your like before, you make me feel so good, doing things I never used to care for... I can't wait until you've recovered all the way..."

Nilene blushed awkwardly, and pulled her hand out of his, "Thank you, I think... But you had better get going, before someone sees us."

Roddinklerk bowed comically, a wistful sound in his voice as he said, "Very well, my Lady! Until the next time you want to talk." He was grinning madly as he left her, but as she watched him go, she had a deeply troubled look on her face.

Why had she done that?!

Perplexed with herself, and her motivations, she took a different path back into camp than the one Roddinklerk used. Watching her go, a shadow stepped from behind a tree. A shadow with a metal harness strapped down to it's jaw.

What was she thinking?!

That's what Hurra wanted to know, waking Nilene up in her own tent, several hours after sunrise. "The entire camp is talking about it! They say the Colonel has been walking around all morning looking like a lovestruck boy of thirteen! By all the Gods, girl, why did you lay with him?!"

Nilene wasn't fully awake yet, and she felt indignant, "What business is it of yours anyway, old woman?!"

Hurra reacted as if struck, "What business is it of mine?" She sat down on the pallet next to Nilene, who was folded into a blanket, hair standing on end, "Oh, my sweet Herik, what have I done?" Hurra hung her head between her hands, "This isn't what was supposed to happen... I just wanted you to get out of the city safely..."

Nilene allowed her anger to surface, "And your brilliant idea to do so was to dress me up like a common whore! Don't you blame me if I was forced to play the part."

Hurra snorted, "The Colonel didn't force you-"

"That's different..." Nilene grew calm as she mused, "I wanted to tell him, I really did. He'll probably help me get over the border either way, should I ask him, but... I just couldn't-" She pulled her hair in frustration, "I don't know why! Okay?"

Hurra was skeptical, so decided to press the point in a different way, "So... Do you love him?"

Nilene was taken aback, "What?! No! Are you crazy, he's a man!"

Hurra nodded, satisfied, "So you greatly complicate things with the only man in the kingdom who could restore you to your rightful place- for what?"

Nilene was tired of dancing around it, "Fine! What do you want me to say? I did what you told me to do- I learned to enjoy it!"

Hurra closed her eyes, and got back up on her feet. "I'm sorry, Nirik, I never-"

"Don't you DARE call me that! You were the one who gave me my new name, after all."

Hurra looked own at Nilene, furious amidst her blankets, "Forgive me, Nilene. A woman's body is her's to do with as she pleases." And with that, she swept out of the tent. A small crowd of gawkers fled when they saw her. Inside, Nilene wept into her pillow.

She didn't emerge from her tent, but Nilene eventually crawled out of bed, and got dressed before brushing her hair. She was in the middle of pacing around the confined space, trying not to step on her bedding, when someone called from outside, "Miss Nilene?"

"Yes?" she replied irritably, "You can come in!"

It was Roddinklerk's assistant, Gabenal, who poked in his head, "Ma'am?"

Nilene sighed, letting her arms drop to hand by her sides, "Yes, Corporal?"

He stepped inside, looking around briefly before holding something out to her. It was a flower, a local wild variety, but with a lovely blue and white striated pattern on its broad petals. Around it was tied a small folded note. "The Colonel sends this to you, with his greetings."

She thanked him, and waited until he had left before she put her face in her palm. She knew what it said before she ever read the note: We need to talk...

She looked around her tent wildly. What would she wear?

The sun had not yet set, as she approached the sharp ridge where their hidden cave was concealed. She found him there, just as she thought she would, even down to guessing he would bring candles. He was such a romantic.

But his words, when she had seated, took her off guard. It started when he got down on one knee before her, "Nilene, I love you!"

She was speechless, "I-"

He went on as if he didn't notice, "I've never met a girl like you... I know this is sudden, but it would help calm the men down- and it doesn't have to be right away, what with the war still going on and-"

She put a finger to his lips, "Shh. What are you babbling on about?"

He reached up to clasp her hand in his, and kissed it, "I love you, Nilene, and I want you to marry me!"

She pulled her hand away in shock, "Marry you?!"

He nodded earnestly, "Yes! Don't you see! It's perfect! I know you must have noble blood, from your manner- we could eventually drop the whole Duke Nirik act, and rebuild this country together!"

Nilene felt like she would faint, as the blood rushed out of her head, "I, I can't, I-"

He clutched her leg, "Oh, please?! I know you're still not recovered from what the mercenaries did to you, but that doesn't bother me. We have years ahead of us! Think of all we can do!"

She pushed his hands away, "No, listen, you don't understand, I can't-"

He leaned up to her, and kissed her. She couldn't hep but kiss him back for a second, but she remembered herself, and pushed him away, "No, please, I can't!" She struggled to stand.

As she moved to the entrance, Roddinklerk seemed confused, "But... don't you love me?"

She looked at him, and he could see that she was terribly upset. Tears started to well in her reddening eyes, "I- I, I can't!" She rushed out of the narrow entrance, and ran down the mountainside, weeping. Roddinklerk stood in the gap and watched her go, not sure if he should follow.

CHAPTER SIX: Under the Lash

Nilene awoke laying on her stomach, with her hands tied behind her back.

The sun was shining down through a lite canopy of trees, growing increasingly leafless as autumn swung on towards winter. She struggled to find a position she could look around in, and a shadow fell across her.

Twisting her head, she looked up. It was Toba- the man who had first laid claim to her!

"What in the Twin-" she began to say, but he silenced her with a quick kick to the side of her stomach.

"Shwywenss!" She wasn't absolutely sure, but she thought he was telling he to be silent. As good a move as any she could make, under the circumstances. Nilene shut up, and watched her captor warily.

He stalked around her, looking her over before crouching down in front of her. A knife dangled loosely from his hand in front of her eyes, "Aww oo hoying tcoo sdruggle?"

She couldn't help it, "What?" escaped her lips.

He slapped her, hard, with the hand that wasn't holding a knife, "Aww Saes, Aww oo hoying tcoo sdruggle, oor ahn Aww hoying tco hahf tcoo khuth oo?"

She thought it over, trying to translate: I said, are you going to struggle, or am I going to have to cut you?

She shook her head, and said in a meek voice, "No, I'll cooperate."

"Hoohd." (Good) He grabbed her upper arms, and helped her to her feet, which were not bound. He pointed down a forest trail, "Ghaoh!" (Go!)

As Nilene stumbled forward, trying to keep her balance, she felt a brand new indignity. With a snapping crack!, the tasseled end of a whip struck her back, between her painfully bound arms.

"Nuve iths!"

Not wanting to suffer a second strike, Nilene picked up her pace.

She remembered Roddinklerk, and his proposal- that could never be... She remembered running away in tears, angry at Hurra, angry at her father, angry at Roddinklerk... Angry with herself.

She remembered running through the forest, until she collapsed in exhaustion, leaning against the roots of an old tree...

And that was the last thing Nilene could remember before she awoke as Toba's captive.

Asides from where he had slapped her, Nilene didn't feel any trauma to her head, but they were already back down the mountain, back in the forest where she had run into Yaevers' men... She couldn't believe she would have stayed asleep if he had carried her that far. It must have been drugs. That could explain the haze that was slowly fading from her mind.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked without thinking. He answered with another crack of the whip.

She stumbled on for what felt like hours, her shoulders starting to burn as they began to cramp. They were crossing through wild forest, nowhere near the road. If ever she fell behind, Toba would lash out with his whip, and by the time he stopped them to rest, her shoulders and upper arms were crossed with welts. She was fortunate the whip he used wasn't steel tipped, they would leave no permanent scars.

They had reached the very edge of the forest, and were looking onto the broad dusty flats between the border mountains and the back country. A land she had just come across.

She was kneeling, unable to sit properly with her hands tied. Toba watched her unsympathetically, while he dug a small leather pouch out of his gear, and began to sip something pink through a straw. Finished with his meal, he tossed the pouch aside, and leaned towards her, gesturing with the rolled up whip, "Iths wenn tcoo wongg, ahn oo nookt tcoo sweeths... Ihffs aww weetiya oor hanths, woohd oo leths nee...?"

He didn't bother waiting for an answer. He got up, and leaned over her long enough to cut her cords. He gave her long enough to rub some circulation back into her wrists, before he rebound them in front of her. He then grabbed her hair, and slammed her forward, making her get on her hands and knees.

Oh Gods, let him be small! Nilene prayed silently as he moved around behind her. He shoved up her dress, and reached in to tear her panties aside, and-

He reared back and up onto his feet, "Waass Tiss!" Toba grabbed her by the hair again, and pulled her to her feet, facing him, as he gestured down at her with his knife, "Wefane? Tah Cowowehl??" he laughed through his clenched mouth, letting her go to buckle his belt back on.

To Nilene's relief, she finally met a man who didn't fly that way. He motioned for her to move on, and she stepped out of the forest, and onto the flats.

Roddinklerk was in a full fledged panic by this point.

"What do you mean, you can't find her?"

Yaevers glanced about for assistance, but none was forthcoming, so he braced himself, and told his commander, "I've had my men out tearing up the refugee camps and the surrounding woodlands..." he spread his hands diplomatically, "Unless she is just bound and determined to hide from us, and has had the training to do so, she doesn't appear to be anywhere on this mountain."

Roddinklerk fumed, completely furious with himself. He couldn't blame her for running off, he had acted like a moon-struck fool last night- Not even giving her a chance to speak...

Yaevers coughed in his hand, "Uh, sir? There is something else..."

He glared at his lieutenant, "Out with it!"

"Well, sir," he hesitated, "I have no idea if it's a related matter, but that Teljuk man, the one Horast has been caring for, that we found at the mercenary camp with the broken jaw- Well, uh, he seems to also have been missing since last night."

Hurra, who had been brought to the impromptu meeting in front of the command tent since it was well known she was friends with Nilene, spoke up upon hearing this description, "Toba!"

She paled when she saw the look on Roddinklerk's face as he whirled on her, "What do you know of this man?!"

She jumped slightly, and forced herself to reveal, "He was the one that originally captured her! Before one of the other men broke his jaw to have her- Other than that, I know not! He was in and out of unconsciousness for months afterward."

He roared at his officers, "The bastard has taken her! Find Them!"

As his men scattered to obey, he grabbed Hurra by the shoulder, and pulled her along as he stormed straight into Falinor's tent.

The young Ranger was trying to fit a harness to a newly trained pigeon, and he asked casually without looking over, "So, what's all the ruckus, Colonel?"

Roddinklerk stopped in his tracks, and looked at Falinor wide-eyed, "Ruckus? Ruckus! Someone's abducted Nilene!"

Falinor soothed his pigeon and looked over, "Who's Nilene?"

Roddinklerk raged, "You're supposed to be my spy, Falinor! How come you never seem to know what's going on around here?"

Falinor shrugged noncommittally, "If it gets written down, I hear about it, otherwise... I'm too busy to waste my time with the rumor mill. So- who's Nilene?"

Roddinklerk was aghast, "She's a girl, I-" he furrowed his brows, "She's been kidnapped, that's all you need to know! I need you to send messages to our scouts in the field, to keep an eye out for her."

"I can do that." He nodded to he woman, "So what's she for?"

Roddinklerk firmed his grip on Hurra's shoulder, "Oh, this one? I'm not letting her out of my sight."

As soon as Thromwick heard the news, he had begged Yaevers to allow him to go and search for her. Yaevers had told him that he would only get in the way- he wasn't properly trained.

"Hells damn him, for all he knows..." Thromwick muttered, watching Yaevers trudge away.

He would go after her anyway.

Zalingy watched him go. Having passed himself off as another recruit, eager to fight in the name of Duke Nirik, the deadly Caravaner had trained alongside Thromwick since the kid had arrived. He knew full well who the Corporal had arrived with, but continued to bide his time, knowing also how the Colonel seemed to feel towards 'her'.

He wondered if either of them knew?

Running after the young man, Zalingy easily caught up to him, "Hey, Leatherman! Wait up!"

Thromwick slowed his pace a fraction, but wouldn't stop, "What is it, Keffan?" (A name Zalingy had made up on the spot when he joined the resistance).

Zalingy smiled in a friendly, confidential manner, as he matched his pace alongside the Private. "I couldn't help but hear your little talk with the Lieutenant. Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Are you going to stop me?" Thromwick sounded determined, but Zalingy pegged him as soft.

"I hadn't thought of it. It would take a blind man not to see how you feel about the girl." Zalingy hit him with the clincher, "But the Lieutenant was right about one thing, you don't have the training to track down the likes of a Teljuk nomad... So I'm going to help you."

Thromwick was curious in spite of himself, "And how can you help me? You're no Ranger-"

Zalingy laughed, "No, that I am not! But I do know the lay of the land- places where the nomad may be hiding, or heading..." He left the rest unspoken.

Thromwick came to a sudden halt, and looked at Zalingy, "Alright, Keffan. You have a point, but why would you-"

Zalingy put an arm around the young man's shoulders, "Besides the fact that we are both brothers-in-arms? Favor, son. I'm helping you, because it will earn me the Colonel's favor. We both know how he feels about her!"

Thromwick lowered his head at this unwelcome reminder, but didn't protest as Zalingy followed him as he moved on. Zalingy tried not to smile. How easy the young were to lead around, just by appealing to their hormones!

Her shoulders itched from where his lash had struck her, but with her hands tied, Nilene could do little about it. The sun had reached the top of the sky, and had begun its long march down into the west, as Toba forced her along ahead of him, keeping a pace that was a few steps too fast for her.

She stumbled and fell to her knees, which barked at her with a flare of pain. They were staying away from the road, walking through the abandoned fields, whose unharvested crops had grown stiff and brittle in the autumn chill. Nilene tried no to think about the cold, but it gnawed at her.

The whip cracked, and stung her buttocks through the material of her dress. She forced herself back to her feet, and staggered ahead, not looking back at her captor.

He tapped her left shoulder, "Urng wighth! Tcoo tah woan!" (Turn right! Too the road!) He had spotted something ahead, above the tall brittle grass.

Nilene saw it too, after she reached the road. It was the petrified farmhouse...

Watching them approach through the gaps between the planks, the old man tightened his grip on the crossbow, which had to be repaired after Nilene had thrown it to the ground down the road. His surviving grandson had retrieved it for him, and he had down his best to patch up its broken barrel. With great effort, he had managed to get the thing loaded and cocked, but he dared not fire it.

He recognized the girl, but not her new beau... It did not mater, he wasn't going to let them get the drop on his family again.

Toba ignored Nilene's protests as he pushed her towards the house.

"Suths oor nawth!" He commanded, cracking the whip for emphasis.

The old man chose that moment to burst out of the door, with the crossbow raised high, sweeping it back and forth between them, "Hold it! Move and I'll feather ya!"

Toba held his hands out at his sides, whip dangling loose from his hand, trying to smile through the harness around his mouth, "Nyuss Hwang ahn, ssir! Whee tohnt neen ahnwy-"

"Shut it, mister!"

Nilene had taken a few steps back when the old man had rushed out at them, and now stood frozen, with her hands tied out in front of her. Behind him, watching from the doorway, she saw a young dark-haired woman- wife of the man Thromwick had killed.

"Just kill 'em and get it over with, pa!"

"Get back inside, Einily!" He spoke over his shoulder, leveling the crossbow at Toba's head. Nilene glanced at him, and noticed he had tightened his grip on the whip.

The old man noticed this too, "Just put down that horse-tickler, son..."

Several things then happened at once:

Watching the emergent stand-off while crouched low in the dead crops alongside the road, Zalingy put a steadying hand on Thromwick's shoulder.

"Easy, Leatherman," he whispered, "If we're lucky, these two fools will take care of each other for us..."

They had marched hard all day, sticking to the road as it cut across the flats, knowing that Toba would likely waste time cutting over rough terrain. Thromwick had talked him into getting off the road once the old farmhouse had come into view, and this proved to be good advice, as they watched Toba and Nilene emerge from the fields.

Zalingy tensed, ready to spring as soon as Toba or the old man made a move. His concentration was interrupted, as was that of the two men facing each other, when the sounds of hooves beating down the road could be heard.

Toba had a clearer view, and turned slightly when he saw the horseman riding up from a .distance. He tried to move out of the road, but the old man stopped him, "Don't you move, son!"

Toba gestured at the approaching horseman, "Whee awwv tcoo ghith awwf stheh whoan!"

The man on the horse could see them by now, and spurred his steed on faster. Zalingy whispered to Thromwick, "Okay, when I make my move, I want you to dash across the road, grab the girl, and hide in the fields on the other side, do you got me?"

"Aye," Thromwick replied with a curious calm to his voice.

The horseman was upon them, hauling back on the reigns, bringing the horse to halt so suddenly that she had to rear back up on her hind legs to kill her momentum. Holding onto the saddle was one of the men from the resistance camp, and when he and Toba made eye-contact, the luckless nomad turned to flee into the fields.

Zalingy sprang from his hiding place, Thromwick right behind him, at the same instant that the old man tried to fire upon Toba's fleeing back. It turned out that the old man had no clue how to repair military weaponry; as the tension in the metal bowstring was released, the crossbow smashed into itself, the bolt shattering before ever leaving it's track, and large splinters of wood and metal flew back up into the old man's face. It was nothing fatal, but the shrapnel blinded him instantly, and the twisting weapon's string somehow managed to catch on one of his thumbs, and cut it clean-off.

"Grandpa!" Einily screamed, dashing towards him. Darreck, the soldier on the horse, showed a moment of confusion, as he watched the farmgirl suddenly collapse lifelessly in the dirt beside her grandfather-in-law. Not even a second later, pain blossomed in the back of his head, and he slumped down out of his saddle, with one of Zalingy's curved blades protruding from the back of his neck.

Thromwick couldn't see what Zalingy was doing, focused as he was on Nilene, who was watching everything with staring eyes. He tackled her, and threw her down into the brittle grasses across the road.

He pushed himself off of her, and looked at her with concern, "Are you alright?"

She wasn't looking at him, "Never mind me, look out!"

He looked behind his shoulder, just in time to see the butt-end of a crossbow's grip smash into his face.

Thromwick tumbled into darkness.

Nilene crawled out from under Thromwick, noticing a trickle of blood coming out of his nose, before her attention was taken by the scene unfolding before her:

Standing right in front of her, was a Caravaner man she did not recognize, with a shaved head and vulture's grin. He stood facing away from her, pointing the crossbow dropped by the legionnaire at Toba, who stood in the midst of the three bodies sprawled in the road. The horse had retreated to the side of the farmhouse, and watched the men warily.

"Whawingwy? Whahth ehn thah gwihn-hehlsh aww oo tooying heehr?" Toba asked, clenching his whip, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

Zalingy laughed, "I see Gevane helped improve your speaking voice, Toba!" He nodded behind himself, "You have no idea how long I've been looking for this one!"

"Oo tahnth hahf hehr! Sees nyine!" Toba dodged to the side suddenly, and lashed out with the whip. He actually managed to catch the end of the crossbow, and pull it out of Zalingy's hands- but not before the Caravaner had pulled the trigger.

Toba struck the ground next to Darreck as he threw himself, and never got back up, though his jaw was smashed one last time by the impact. A crossbow bolt was jutting straight up out of his heart.

Nilene watched, numb, as the new man stepped over to pick the crossbow back up, before turning around to look down at her.

"Well, well, well... it's been quite the hunt- but it would seem I've caught up to you at last, Nirik..."

"It's Darreck, sir." Yaevers stood up from the body, and looked over at the Colonel, kneeling beside the corpse of Toba.

"Now we know why he didn't report." Roddinklerk stood, dusting off his knees, and looked around at the carnage. They had ridden out from camp a little over an hour ago, and had reached the farmhouse an hour before sundown.

Yaevers asked, "Can you make sense of all this, sir?"

"No, not entirely," the Colonel gestured around with his hand, "I have no idea how these farmers got involved, and if Toba is dead, who exactly has Nilene? Someone had to take Darreck's horse-"

Gabenal pushed his way out of the fields to report, "Sir! There is no sign of Private Leatherman, sir! Nor of volunteer Keffan, Sir!

Roddinklerk sighed, and Yaevers ventured hopefully, "Maybe Leatherman and Keffan were successful, and took the horse to bring her back-"

Roddinklerk shook his head, "We would have passed them on the road on the way down here..." he twirled his mustache thoughtfully, staring at the bodies, "Leatherman is just a kid, I believe he was acting altruistically when he disobeyed your orders- but what do we know about this Keffan? Could he be one of Dramore's agents?"

Yaevers shrugged, unsure himself, "We got a lot of new recruits since we set up shop on the border- I think he signed up about three weeks ago..."

Roddinklerk frowned, "Tell me, Lieutenant, have you ever heard of a Caravaner settling down to live the life of a provincial farmer?"

Yaevers shook his head doubtfully, "Not that I've ever heard, sir. And there is this-" He held up the small curved blade that had been found in the back of Darreck's neck, and the left temple of the farmgirl. It had no hilt, designed purely as a thrown weapon. "This is certainly not legion issue... Leatherman had to stow all his personal gear when arrived, and we confiscated everything Toba had on him when we found him. I don't ever remember hearing about anything like this."

Roddinklerk looked to the west, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, "Then this Keffan is a spy for certain. He must have taken Nilene in the hope that she could be ransomed off, or used to force me into a surrender..." he looked heartsick.

"What are you going to do?" Yaevers wanted to know.

In response, Roddinklerk instead called for, "Gabenal!"

The young assistant snapped to instant attention, "Yes, Sir!"

Roddinklerk moved to his horse, speaking as he went, "Get back to camp, and tell Falinor to give the signal." he leaped up into his saddle, and turned his horse about while Yaevers climbed up on his own. "We received word two days ago that the Dramicine have moved down to occupy Grollings- It's time to spring my trap!" He spun his steed west, "Tell them we attack tomorrow night!"

His head was pounding, and his nose was in all likelihood broken, but Thromwick trudged on down the road. He had no idea who had struck him for certain, but as he forced himself up onto his wobbly legs, to stumble back out into the road, he had enough time to glimpse a horse riding off towards the west.

Keffan's body wasn't amongst the fallen, and neither was Nilene's. He must have been the one that had taken her west- but why?

Thromwick's brain was confused- concussed.

Hours passed, or was it days? As he stumbled own the road.

Hours, it had to be... It was still dark.

Thromwick shook his head, to clear the cobwebs, and looked behind him. There was no sign of the farmhouse. He didn't know how far he had come, nor how much further he had to go. Only that somewhere up ahead, was Nilene.

He could imagine her talking to him, as he walked along, "You're in way over your head, kid. You think you're going to face down the entire Dramicine army by yourself, when I don't even feel the same way you do? Don't be a fool!"

Thromwick blinked sweat and blood from his eyes, replying to his mental phantasm, "It doesn't matter how you feel. It matters how I feel..."

"That's very noble sounding, but noble sentiments can often get you in trouble. That's why the ruling class largely ignores morality- when no one is looking. You're risking an awful lot over an intangible principle."

"Father always said a man only has his principles to rely on." Thromwick countered.

"That's right, son!" a phantasm of Fekwin spoke up, "You tell her!"

The Nilene in his head, (or was she walking next to him?), focused his attention back towards her, "Never mind principles, I'm trying to help you survive!"

"If you don't love me, then why would you want to help me?"

The phantasm sighed, "I'm not who you think I am, Throm..."

The sleep-walking dream suddenly vanished. Thromwick could hear the thunder of hooves coming up the road behind him. Considering his confused state, and his last experience when a horse rode up, was it any small wonder that he threw himself into the grasses along the road, hunkered low until two riders passed?

In his mind's eye, Nilene was hunkered down next to him in the cold mud, "Why did you do that? They could have helped you?"

Thromwick didn't reply. He was growing weary of phantoms. He hauled himself back to his feet, and onto the road. His long walk was far from over.

With Darreck's horse, Zalingy would have no trouble delivering Nirik, able now to outrun any further pursuit. He had tied Nilene down over the horse's flanks, like a set of heavy saddlebags, and she felt numb as she bounced against the mare's thighs as she ran.

He knew who she was.

He had offered her no explanations, and neither had she asked for any, as he trussed her up over the horse. But he didn't have to tell her, because she didn't need to ask. Where else could he be taking her? Who else was offering such a terrific bounty for her capture?

Zalingy pulled the horse to a stop, and reached back to tap her, "You've been in Grollings haven't you? If so, you may wish to see this!"

Groggily, she turned her head to look forward, and at first she thought she was simply looking at the night-lights of Grollings on the horizon.

No- there were far too many. And they were spread out over an area far greater than the ruined little town actually covered.

"What?" she tried to ask through a dry throat.

Zalingy smiled, and spurred the horse into an easy trot, "You look upon the campfires of the central Dramicine regiment, the personal army of Archimere himself."

Nilene looked on in fear, as they rode towards the fires. He was going to deliver her to Lord Dramore.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Lord Dramore

The eastern realm of Dramore, (known as 'Greater Dramore' in the Contested Lands), was old, far much older than Connelar, which had conquered and enveloped Dramore early in the third century of the Imperial Calendar. This had come about as a result of the mysterious appearance of the island of Thesus, in the middle of the Enchanted Sea, one thousand years ago.

The Connelarian Empire itself had been born as a result of Dramore's existence. When the Dramicine first started to migrate out of their realm, and into the temperate plains east of the Freshwater Sea, the early Connelarian baronies saw this intrusion as a threat of invasion. The First Dramic War knitted the scattered baronies in Old Connelar and along the Darade river together, and the first Emperor was crowned ere its end. Two more Dramic wars followed, as the bounds of East Connelar, and what was then known as Imperial Leap, (now Garwain), were established.

Dramore had a large population, but as most of the region was dominated by deserts and arid plateaus, this populace was clustered in the more hospitable south. The appearance of the island Thesus drowned these lands, wiping out untold thousands upon thousands of lives, as well as sinking Dramore's ancient capital, and it's King along with it.

Thus began the Fourth Dramic War, one in which the Connelarians saw themselves as saviors, helping to rescue and rebuild Dramicine civilization. The land was renamed the Eastern Province, and it's unsettled frontier, north of the High Drams, was parceled out and colonized by Imperial powers. Last survivors of the royal family were brought to newly-built Rindariot, where they would dwell for centuries. The Legions extended the Imperial Way into Dramore, through the great Valley Pass, to an even newer city- New Dramore, which sat atop the central plateau with it's back against the Shielding Mountains, and their rich iron deposits.

The royal cousins eventually became as any other noble family of Connelar- House Dramore, and after centuries of interbreeding, they no longer looked like their own people, seeming as normal Connelarians, perhaps with a slight darkening of the skin.

And then, eighty-one years ago, came that tragic day, when newly crowned Emperor Trevaine IX was thrown from his horse in the middle of a fox hunt. Archimere's grandfather, Onelides, had been amongst his majesty's retainers, and there were the inevitable speculations of nefarious plots and motives. But Archimere had heard the truth from his grandfather before he died: It was just a plain, simple accident, that robbed the Emperor of his life.

With no Empress yet wed, and therefor no heirs on the way, and no other clear lines to the throne, the Empire was thrown into chaos. It is only by a miracle of Connelarian solidarity that they have held themselves together for so long after. But Lord Onelides was quick to leave Rindariot, and take his entire Household to New Dramore, where he threw down the Imperial Governor. To the cheers of the Dramicine people, he declared the kingdom of Dramore reborn, and set about raising an army, and sealing the borders. The Contested Lands were ignored for the time being.

Eldest son of his eldest daughter, it fell to Archimere to wear the title of Lord Dramore, after Onelides had died. His grandfather had turned Dramore into a powerful nation again, and Archimere vowed to prove himself worthy to be its master.

And so the Fifth Dramic War began.

Nilene had only seen the tops of them, peeking above Fort Valor's walls, but she now had a chance to really see what the Dramicine siege engines looked like. While the regiment dispatched to take Fort Valor, under the command of the late General Crath, had 'only' had two of the fearsome devices, Archimere's central regiment had five. Four 'smaller' ones stood apart from each other, at the corner's of the town's perimeter. They were over forty-feet tall, and stood upon gear-driven tracks, made from broad, flat chain hidden under an armored canopy. The gears were driven by primitive pistons whose power came from the huge steam furnace that dominated their lower levels. Sitting atop the furnaces were the actual siege towers, made from wooden frames, but skinned with thin steel plates. The towers had numerous lop-holes for arches, and extendable ramps to breach the top of city walls. Jutting from various points, and at odd angles, were the vents which constantly billowed clouds of foul-smelling steam, or the oily black smoke of the coal they used to fire the furnaces. An armored balcony over the furnace housed the machines' controls, and from here their pilots would steer them across all manner of terrains.

It was the fifth Engine, standing amidst the center of the town, that truly grabbed Nilene's attention. Lit by the campfires at it's feet, it loomed dark and ominous against the autumn night. Half as tall again as the other towers, it was also three times as wide, and was mounted on ten track-assemblies. It was designed to be a mobile fortress, not a mere siege breaker, and it served as Lord Dramore's roaming palace. Pinpricks of light shone out from narrow windows in the upper levels, and it was covered in a hide of superior steel sheets. Adding to its menacing presence, it was painted a dark red, and had three claw-like protrusions at it's top, surrounding a gilded glass dome.

Guards stopped them at several check-points set up within the decimated town. Nilene caught a glimpse of Benly's inn, and the lights inside were glowing warmly, as if nothing abnormal was going on. But that was not to be their destination. Zalingy was pointing them directly towards the base of the awesome tower.

A huge extendable ramp was lowered with the tower parked, and an ornate brass door was revealed at the top of it- a smaller conventional door right next to it. Dramicine Knights could be seen standing guard everywhere, and a helmed officer stepped towards them, as Zalingy dismounted.

They spoke in the Dramic tongue, whose shushing sounds had always eluded Nilene's translation. But after some polite words, the officer bowed, and moved up the ramp, motioning for two of the knights to step closer, and watch over them. Zalingy came around to cut Nilene's bonds, and helped ease her down off the horse. She almost fell upon being set down, her legs were incredibly numb.

"You're a survivor, Nirik, and I can admire that. So here's a bit of free advice- if you wish to survive the night, speak as little as possible, and if you must, as you surely will, exorcize caution with whatever you choose to say." Zalingy patted her cheek in mock affection, and turned as the officer strode back down to them.

They would be permitted to enter, and see Lord Dramore.

People were always shocked when they met him. Zalingy, who considered himself quite jaded, was certainly taken aback, and Nilene felt as if she was looking at some distorted reflection of herself.

Unlike Nilene, Archimere was not dressed in women's clothing, but neither could you say he was dressed in men's. He was only a fraction of an inch taller than Nilene, and had a similar, lithe body-type, but his hair was Connelarian-black instead of Wilderman-blonde. Makeup lined his eyes, and colored his lips dark purple. He wore white silk pants, belled out at the cuffs, and a matching shirt that hung open down the front, revealing a hairless chest. He wore a yellow scarf tied around his neck, and was barefoot, save for a golden ring around one of his little toes.

If Zalingy had not deciphered her identity before meeting her, he probably would have thought Nilene was a real girl, just like everyone else seemed to, but Archimere was immune to the illusion, and recognized her immediately for what she really was. Zalingy and his captive had been escorted to Lord Dramore's throne room, right under the glass-dome, which had been opened to let in the cool evening air. Potted plants and pedestals holding up small statues lined the chamber, in the center of which was a raised platform, with a silver-armed divan, which Archimere used as his throne, lounging about indulgently as he commanded his armies. His retainers were varied, and stood about silently, as they were lead into the middle of the room, to stand before the throne.

Archimere set down a chalice of wine, on a tray held low for him by a Dramicine servant, wearing only a loin-clout, and stood, to come sauntering down the steps in a very feminine fashion. He ignored Zalingy for the moment, choosing instead to walk around Nilene, inspecting his new prize.

"Ancestors-guide-me! No one ever told me we had so much in common, my lovely Duke!" Archimere's voice was musical, but strangely cold at the same time. Like a song about ghosts or old sorrows. "If I had only known..." he spoke the Connelarian language flawlessly. He turned to face his retinue, "Give this man his money, and leave us!" He swept back up to his throne, and looked down on them like a hawk, as they scurried off to do his bidding, one of the escorting knights grabbing Zalingy's arm to drag him away.

Within moments, the room was cleared of all but Nilene and Lord Dramore, and two huge guards standing on either side of the doors to the lower levels. Nilene spun around, and stopped to look up at Archimere, who was smiling down at her.

"You are not what I expected."

Nilene blinked, "Neither are you."

Archimere gestured for her to step up towards the divan, "Had I but known, I may have pursued a different course to bring North Dramore in line- through marriage."

Nilene stopped halfway, and frowned at her new captor, "Don't be fooled by my present... condition," she gestured down at herself, "This all started as a way to sneak out of Fort Valor."

Archimere looked disappointed, "Oh, then you don't-"

Nilene widened her eyes, realizing she may had just made an error- it would be best if Lord Dramore were not disappointed, she surmised, so she hastily said, "I didn't- but now, I- I've had to, in order to keep my cover going."

Archimere leaned forward in his seat, seemingly interested again, "Ah, I see... How delightful!" he clapped his hands merrily, "So! How was it your first time?" He seemed positively giddy as he awaited her reply.

"It was, uh... long, and it was, uh- ...hard..." She couldn't think of anything to say. Luckily, Archimere took it as a joke, and laughed at the domed ceiling.

"Oh, I can see that we're going to have fun together!" he added confidentially, "I was planning on having you executed publicly, once we finally got our hands on you, but now-" He shook his head, "Now that I've seen you, I think I'd rather keep you!"

Archimere reached for a funnel shaped device, connected to a hose, kept on a cradling hook next to the divan. He spoke into it, "Ravka!" He put the funnel back on its hook, and smiled at Nilene. The doors at the far end of the room opened, and a short man in an ornate robe hurried over to them, bowing as he came to a stop.

"My Lord Dramore! How can Ravka serve?"

Archimere gestured idly, "Take Nirik down and have him cleaned up, and fitted with something more tasteful to wear. He looks like he's been rolling around in dirt!" He then directed his gaze back to Nilene, "Go with Ravka, he will see that you are quartered. I will summon you tomorrow, so be prepared."

Thromwick awoke with the sun, laying in a stretch of ditch along the road. He had finally passed out late in the night, from total exhaustion, but even though he slept for no more than two hours, he awoke refreshed, and with his faculties restored.

The previous day's events came back to him in a flash, and he sat straight up, and looked to the west. Nothing. Just the dead fields of the flats.

It would take him days to walk, as it did before, but Thromwick knew that he did not have days to wait. Nilene needed him.

Thromwick set off at a jogging pace, which soon quickened to a run.

He ran all day.

Lord Dramore did not summon her until after sunset of that next day. Nilene had been quartered in a luxurious suite, designed with visiting heads-of-state in mind, which of course she was. If her life wasn't in danger, she may have taken more time to enjoy the wondrous accommodations, which included a bathing room with a small pool of circulating water, heated by the furnace several levels below. The main room had a bed, a desk, and a large wardrobe- all of the finest quality timbers.

Two Dramicine women, small-breasted and eyes downcast, joined them as Ravka lead Nilene into the bathing room. They helped her undress, and no one present seemed to react at all to the presence of her penis. They helped her into the pool, and scrubbed her down with natural sponges, but despite their tender attentions, Nilene couldn't relax. The women left after she was out of the pool, and in a warm robe made from towel-cloth.

While she had been bathing, Ravka had a team of servants bring in a selection of clothes- female clothes, made from exotic materials and adorned with gems. They were all so revealing, as to be borderline to neglige.

Nilene had stayed in the robe all day, but when Ravka arrived with the summons, he came now with three of the nondescript women, who proceeded to not only dress her, but also style her hair in a swept up shell, and apply makeup to her face. An exotic beauty looked back at Nilene from the wardrobe's mirror, dressed in a white see-through garment. The top piece consisted of a long, thin cape, which hung down her back on one side, and was anchored by two long straps that draped across her shoulders, down over were here breasts would be, if she had them, and clipped in the front to pants that were more like a combination of gartered stockings and chaps, leaving her entire pelvic region exposed.

Nilene felt ridiculous as Ravka marched her down a short riveted corridor to a stairwell, with her prick wiggling obscenely ahead of her with every step. They entered the domed chamber right as Archimere was dismissing his retainers for the evening. The sunset was clearly visible through the domed glass, its gilded framework glowing red.

Ravka left Nilene standing at the foot of the dais, and retreated from the chamber. Archimere looked down at Nilene, and smiled when he recognized her defiant manner. He was dressed almost identically, except that his outfit was black, and threaded with gold wire along the fringes. Even his hair had been styled the same, and he took Nilene's hand, as he stepped down off of his throne.

"How wearisome, the affairs of state can be! I'm sorry it took me so long to send for you, but I needed to get everything out of the way, so I could give you my undivided attention!"

Nilene was put on guard by his seemingly cheerful attitude. She had no idea what he was up to, so she decided to start with something simple- "Why did you attack my country?"

Archimere gave her a probing look, "My dear Duke! What choice did I have? The rest of the northern colonies-" (as the Dramicine called the kingdoms of the Contested Lands), "- can rot, for all I care, but North Dramore? It is a matter of racial pride, that we stitch all the lands of Dramore together. Your ancestors should have chosen a different name when they settled here."

"So you didn't do it to get a foothold on the Freezing Sea?" She was appalled at his explanation.

Archimere shrugged, leading her by the hand out of the opened dome, to gaze down at the surrounding army camped below. "We already have one. Dramore is cursed with an over-abundance of coastline, and little of it useful. No, we just wish to regain what is ours, and hold it against western aggression."

Nilene was growing angry, clenching her fists as she looked over at the other towers. "Gatefield, Farthestar, Thunderhead- None of them bear the name of Dramore."

"Ah, yes, that may be so, but either they were once part of our territory, before the empire conquered us, or in the case of Gatefield, too tactically important to allow to remain under imperial control." He looked at her, changing tact, "Are you cold?"

Nilene was shivering. Winter would be there soon, and she was dressed in clothes that exposed rather than covered. She nodded, and Archimere directed them back inside.

Thromwick had made it to Grollings at a dead run, his heart about to explode out of his chest if it pounded any harder. But he didn't have time to rest- surrounded on all sides by the enemy, he showed an amazing degree of cunning, (for him), and stole a man's uniform from the first campsite he came across. The armor and helmet was too big for him slightly, but this served to keep his features better concealed. Thus disguised, he slipped into Grollings.

He could only guess that Nilene was somewhere up in that bigger tower, overlooking the town's center. Edging around the side of the inn, he watched the guards pace back and forth around the tower's base. The front was heavily watched, but the back...

Trying to seem casual, he walked around the edge of the town square, towards the back of the tower. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him at that moment, he dropped down into the shadows, and crawled between two of it's massive treads.

He rolled over onto his back, and inched his way underneath the low-slung fortress. He felt like he was crawling under that thing forever, and was starting to feel a rising sense of claustrophobia as he considered all the tons of steel suspended an inch above him, when Thromwick at last found what he had been hoping to come across.

An emergency hatch.

Against the back wall of the dome, was a smaller door, leading to Archimere's personal chambers. The two hulking guards followed them, when Lord Dramore invited Nilene to join him for dinner. They were both monstrously huge, and rippling with muscles, even in places where they should not have been be able to, such as their corded fingers and toes. One was a Wilderman, the other Gulean, and their skins contrasted sharply, but they were otherwise virtually identical, even in the facial features- which were brutish. They wore bulged-out loincloths, and carried no weapons. They didn't look like the types to need them.

As they entered the chambers, adorned much like Nilene's own, they stopped to stand on opposites sides of the door. Noticing her admiring them, Archimere commented, "Aren't they delicious? I made them myself."

Nilene looked puzzled, "'Made them'?"

Archimere held out a chair for her to sit in, nodding, "So to speak, yes. I dabble a little bit with Alchemy, you see..."

Servant women entered bearing trays laden with food, as Archimere seated himself near Nilene. She felt strange having people serve as furniture, and found that she didn't have much of an appetite. She made herself nibble on some bread to be polite.

Archimere leaned towards her, gesturing towards her chest with a wing of chicken, "I could do something about those, you know."

Nilene instinctively raised her arms to cover her partially visible nipples, "What do you mean?"

Archimere whispered something to one of the servants in Dramic, and she hurried away. "Like I did with the guards, there. I have a potion that would make your body more womanly, soft. It'll even give you real breasts, though they will be small."

Nilene wasn't sure what to say, "So... it'll turn me into a girl-girl?"

Archimere laughed, "No, nothing so dramatic as that. You're manhood will stay as it is, but won't work as well as it once did, but you will be able to gain pleasure from penetration much more easily."

"Oh." Nilene wasn't sure if that sounded like a fair trade or not, "Do you-?"

"Ancestors, no! Our tastes may run similar, but I do still like to use mine every now and again." he tapped his delicate chin, "You, on the other hand, strike me as the type who'll never go back to the old, now that you've found a new way to get off. Am I not right, my dear Nirik?"

"Nilene." She muttered frustratedly. "I haven't worn the name of Nirik since my father was executed."

"Ah," Archimere nodded with new understanding, "You think of yourself as a girl now, yes?"

Nilene shot him a venomous glare, "What choice do I have?"

The serving girl returned carrying a small cup, filled with a silvery-white liquid. She handed it to Nilene, who took it hesitantly, and sniffed it. Its aroma was potent and mammalian, "Is this?"

Archimere nodded, motioning to the servants to leave them, "Yes, it is. It is called 'Pure Milk'."

"Pure Milk?"

Lord Dramore explained, encouraging her to take a sip, "It is the female variation of the potion I developed for my personal guard. This one is made from human breast-milk, distilled and concentrated into its purest feminine essence. Try it, it won't hurt you."

Nilene took a cautious taste- the flavor was heady, but not all that bad. "Will it change me?"

Archimere shook his head, "Not this fast. You'd have to drink it regularly over a long period- several months at least, for it to have any noticeable effect on your body, but in the short-term does have the effects I described on your pleasure centers."

She took another sip, a larger one. Licking her lips, she could already feel it taking hold. She unconsciously shifted in her chair, to affect a more feminine poise, "So, do you ever drink this, just for the temporary effect?"

Archimere smiled mysteriously, and rose from his seat, stepping over to take the cup out of Nilene's hand. He held it to her lips, and made her drink it all down, while she looked up at him. As he pulled the cup away, she could feel a warmth blossom in her belly, to sink down lower into her body. She eyed his manhood, noting that it sprouted semi-erect from his clothes, just a few inches away from her face...

Archimere saw her look, "Not yet, my lovely Duke- or should it be Duchess? I don't know..." Lord Dramore mused thoughtfully, "Duchess, I think, yes. The Duchess Nilene." he cupped a hand under her chin, "Would you like to come with me into my bedchamber, and see how my guards have been improved by the 'Pure Seed'?"

Nilene nodded eagerly, with a crazed, wanton look in her eyes.

"If you don't slow down, you're going to get stuck."

In spite of his returned faculties, Thromwick was still occasionally plagued by the phantom-Nilene. Crawling up a vent shaft, he glanced up angrily, thinking she was looking down at him from an access panel above, "I'll be fine if you'd stop nagging me! I have to hurry, before something bad happens to you!"

The harness of his borrowed armor caught on a jutting curve of pipe, and he had to shift his shoulders to work past it. Phantom-Nilene shook her head at him, "Stop nagging yourself!"

He looked up at her, but the phantasm was gone. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached the access panel, and pulled himself through.

Archimere was slightly disappointed by Nilene's reaction, expecting something akin to awe, not just a pleased look. He had no idea that Nilene had already met their match with Paraldar, although his thick limb hadn't looked so... muscular.

Seated on the edge of his bed, Archimere reached out and grabbed the wilderman. Archimere suggested, "Go ahead and try him, the potion makes them taste... exquisite!"

Taking the Gulean in hand, Nilene tasted him. Lord Dramore spoke true. He watched as she took the guard in, admiring her technique, "Don't worry about making him finish too soon. They will both do so several times. I designed their potion to keep them permanently rigid."

Nilene pulled away after a minute, and looked at Archimere hard at work on the Wilderman. "Could we switch?"

Archimere nodded with a full mouth, and let go to order the guards to change places. After watching Nilene again, Lord Dramore asked, "Which do you prefer?"

Nilene shrugged, "They're both good, I can't wait..."

Archimere smiled wickedly, and rolled across his bed, to grab two large cushions. They were specially contoured, and Archimere directed Nilene to hunch over hers, while he did the same, until the were facing each other, bent over the odd pillows which offered perfect support.

"Which would you like to try?"

Nilene looked over at the two guards. They were both impressive, but the Gulean looked marginally bigger.

"I want the Gulean."

Archimere grinned at her choice knowingly, and motioned the two slaves over. They took their positions, and moved to enter the two of them simultaneously. Nilene was under the full effect of the potion now, and had an orgasm as soon as the Gulean had pressed himself inside of her. A second followed when he had finished penetrating her all the way.

"Oh! Oh, my! You- you weren't kidding!" Nilene's whole body tingled every time the Gulean pushed forward or pulled back.

Archimere smiled, bored with his guard's attentions personally, but enjoying watching her reactions from so close. He kissed her.

At that moment, the chamber's door burst open, and a young man in Dramicine armor ran in. It was Thromwick, who stopped short as soon as he saw what was going on.

In surprise, Nilene reared up, with the Gulean still buried deep inside of her. Thromwick gaped- he could see her penis, pointed at him accusingly.

Nilene's body chose that moment to erupt in another orgasm.

A horrified look came across Thromwick's face, and he fled from the room. Archimere seemed annoyed, as the guards pulled away to return to the door, their pricks still coated in the slime of their love-play. "He wasn't one of my men- You should have informed me you had some jealous lovers out there!"

"He isn't-" Nilene started to protest, but Archimere ignored her, getting up to walk to the doorway. The guards seemed disinterested in pursuing Thromwick, they were trained to stay within sight of Archimere at all times. A wailing had begun, generated by hand-cranked sirens. As Nilene got up to follow Archimere out under the dome, she guessed that they had nothing to do with Thromwick.

Where he had disappeared to, Nilene couldn't tell, but the main doors to the dome opened, and a crowd of retainers rushed in, Ravka at their head, who blurted out, "My Lord! The resistance is attacking!"

Horses thundered in from the east, and the battle cries of men sounded as a horde of desperate peasants stormed down from the rugged hills to the west of Grollings. Soldiers arose, scattering their campfires, but too many didn't have the proper time to suit up. Though outnumbered five to one, the combined forces of the Nirik Resistance had both the element of surprise, as well as the desperate strength of a people defending their homes. They tore into the Dramicine camp, and left a carpet of death in their wake.

Commanding from the back of his horse, Roddinklerk directed his men to ignore the siege engines as their furnaces fired up, and began to move at a snails pace- no faster than a walking man. They were useless in this form of battle- Roddinklerk's target was the large amount of common soldiery camped on the flats surrounding the town. He glanced at the top of the fifth tower, from time to time, looking for any signal for parley. None was forthcoming, and it too began to rumble to life, backing away out of the town inch by inch.

As it began to move, everyone in the dome lurched on their feet, save for Archimere, who seemed to have the balance of a cat. He was busy conferring with his retinue, and since no one seemed to be paying her any attention, Nilene backed away from the throne.

"Psst! Nilene!" a voiced hissed at her. Looking over, she saw Thromwick peeking around the corner of the door to Archimere's chambers. No one was looking, and she edged over to him, "What are you doing?"

He waved at her to come inside the room, "What does it look like? I'm trying to get you out of here! Follow me!"

She entered the chamber, and shut the door behind her. Thromwick tied not to glance down at her groin, but he couldn't help himself from time to time.

"How are we supposed to get out if we're trapped in here? These are Archimere's quarters!"

Thromwick smiled, and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the bathing room. On the floor beyond the pool, an emergency hatch stood open.

"This way!" he urged her, moving to crawl into the hatchway. Watching him go, Nilene took a second to grab a robe, and wrap it around herself, before following.

Archimere's mobile fortress trundled along, having made it an impressive thirty yards from where it began, when a waste hatch on it's back swung open. Thromwick climbed out, and held onto the lip of the chute while Nilene climbed down to hang onto his back.

Slowly, he eased himself down, clinging to the edges of the armored plates with his fingertips. He sweated, he strained, but slowly but surely, he got them down low enough so that it would be safe to jump the rest of the way.

They landed on the ground together, in a heap, and Nilene was the first to pull herself up to her feet. She helped Thromwick stand, while she watched the tower slowly trundle away. The sounds of battle raged all around, but in the trench dug out by the tower's passage, the two of them had a brief moment of respite.

Nilene looked at him, breathing hard, "Hey!"

"Hey!" he responded back, also trying to find his wind.

"Look, about what you saw before-"

He interrupted her, "I don't care." His voice was determined.

"What?!" her's was less so.

"I said, I don't care... I love you, and I don't care about that."

Nilene put her face in her palm. She was cursed! "Look, Throm, you're just a little infatuated, that's all. If you think it through, you know there could never be anything between us, that way."

He looked hurt. She sighed, and went over to put her hands on his shoulders, "Look, I'm not trying to be mean to you, but you have to think! You may believe you don't care now, but look at me!" She pulled back, and opened her robe. He looked. "This is what I am! I am not a real woman, I could never give you children, and quite frankly, I'm spoiled goods by this point." She closed the robe, "I've had more prick in me over the last three months than most girls will see in their entire lives! Do you really want to be with someone whose been through that? Do you really think you could possibly satisfy me?"

He kicked at a chunk of rubble, "No, I suppose not..."

She put a hand under his chin, and made him look up at her, "Listen, you're a handsome boy, and I'm sure you'll make someone happy someday. It may not even have to be a woman, if that's what you decide, all I'm trying to tell you is to do some thinking about it before you commit to anything, do you understand?"

She could tell that he did get it, but he still felt hurt, and said bitterly, "Well, thanks for figuring out my whole life for me!"

Nilene patted his shoulder, "You'll thank me later. Now go, finish out your tour with the legion, and then go home! If you really love me, you'll do as I say."

She had him there, and before he could formulate any sort of reply, a horseman stormed down into the trench, lance pointed at Thromwick, dripping with gore. Nilene threw herself in front of him.

"No! Stop! He's with the Resistance!" It dawned on her that Thromwick's costume could easily get him killed.

"Nilene?" The lance lowered, "Is that you?"

She peered into the gloom, "Yaevers?"

Yaevers flagged the Colonel down, pulling alongside of him with two people riding behind his saddle. He let them dismount before doing the same. Roddinklerk was engrossed in an argument with Falinor, and waved at Yaevers impatiently without looking.

"Look, Corporal, I don't care if you have to go over there in person, just find a way to tell those men to stop harassing that tower, and get back to their line before we loose-"

They were being ignored, so Nilene stepped forward, "Ahem, hello Colonel."

Hearing her voice, he froze mid-sentence, and turned towards her dumbstruck. Thankful for the distraction, Falinor backed away to send Roddinklerk's message.

He finally found his voice, "I- Ni- Nilene?!" he vaulted off of his own horse, and rushed around to sweep her up into his embrace, kissing her soundly. Still partially under the influence of the potion, she kissed him back fiercely. He set her down reluctantly, and stroked her hair, "I thought I had lost you."

"I'm tougher than I look." She remarked, smiling up at him. Thromwick watched the two of them with a new awareness.

Gabenal approached, "Sir! The southern line- yurk!" From out of nowhere, a curved blade slashed into his throat. Roddinklerk whirled around, instinctively shielding Nilene with his body. But the attack came from the other side. A furtive shape had darted in, and there was a struggle between two men. There was a bark of pain, and one of them slumped lifelessly on the ground. The other rose, and wiped blood from a Dramicine sword.

"Good work, Leatherman! We'll make a proper soldier of you yet!" Yaevers clapped Thromwick on the back.

Roddinklerk was alarmed by the incident, remembering that their reunion was taking place in the middle of an active battle. He looked at Yaevers, "Get these two back to the camp, before anything else happens. Oh, and send a couple of the recruits this way to retrieve Gabenal's body. I'll head back once things are wrapped up here!" He quickly kissed Nilene's hand, and swung back up onto his steed. Soon they were all gone, leaving Zalingy's corpse to lay there untended, while Archimere's tower slowly crept back towards the hills.

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Secret Cavern

Nilene was relieved to learn that the people of Grollings had escaped. Most of them at least- a few brave volunteers had stayed behind to keep up appearances for the occupying soldiers. The rest had been smuggled out through a tunnel under Benly's inn. Roddinklerk had asked the old barkeep to start work on it as soon as he had come up with his plan, two months earlier. With the battle raging around the town, Yaevers decided to use this tunnel to get Nilene and Thromwick to safety.

It opened into the exposed basement of a farmhouse that had been burnt down well over a year earlier. A Northern Army soldier waited there to guide any remaining stragglers coming down from Grollings. A small number of people were clustered together, watching the battle. Yaevers spoke to one of the soldiers standing guard, and soon they were racing off into the night on horse-back- Nilene seated behind Thromwick.

Hurra ran up to greet them when she saw them riding into camp three hours later, "Nilene! Spirits-bless-you, I thought we'd lost you!"

Nilene hugged her back, laughing, "I missed you too, Hurra." She held her out at arms length, "I met Lord Dramore!"

"What?!" Came a chorus of several voices. Yaever's stepped up behind her to grab her shoulder.

"Is it true what they say? That he is a sorcerer?"

Nilene shook her head, "He 'dabbles' in alchemy, but he practices no witchcraft- if that's what you mean. He-" She blinked, "I'm not really sure you'd believe me if I told you." Nilene concluded. She shivered as a gust of wind twitched the hem of the robe she was wearing over that ridiculous outfit. "Now, if you all would excuse me, I'm a little cold, and I'd like to get back into my own clothes, if you don't mind."

Yaevers smiled as she brushed by him, Hurra in tow, and he turned to order the gathering crowd to disperse. He then clapped Thromwick on the shoulder, "Excellent work, Private! Rescued the girl from Lord Dramore's own siege-engine, and stopped that assassin, Keffan! We'll make you into a Red Battalion man yet!"

Thromwick looked exhausted, and was starting to feel the concussion again, but managed to reply in a quavering voice, "Thank you, sir... the Recruiting officer... back in Quickleaf told me... I'd get to do deeds... worthy of song-" His eyes started to roll, "if I signed up with the legions-" Thromwick swooned, and slipped into unconsciousness, but Yaevers was there to catch him.

"Somebody get me a healer!"

Roddinklerk did not make it back to the mountainside camp until mid-afternoon, accompanied by a collection of wounded soldiers able to travel, civilian refugees out of Grollings, and some of the younger resistance recruits carrying the fallen. Reaching the camp, Roddinklerk sat astride his horse as those bearing the dead continued on past him. Falinor emerged from his wildly painted tent, setting a pigeon loose before walking up next to the Colonel's horse.

"Whoever your next secretary turns out to be- they deserve hazard rates." the Ranger quipped mildly, as the gurney with Gabenal moved by.

Roddinklerk grunted, "That, or I need to learn to do my own damned paperwork." He glanced down at Falinor, "Any new developments since I left the field?"

Falinor shook his head, "The engine with the disabled track still refuses to surrender, even though the men inside appear to have run out of ammunition. The other towers are still headed for the back country- Yaevers took some men to follow them"

"Send the Lieutenant a message to disengage his pursuit. That we have a chance to capture even one of the towers is a minor miracle- let the others go." Roddinklerk commanded.

"Sir." Falinor stepped back to his tent.

It took several hours before he could get some time for himself. The battle was still winding down back west, and he was strongly tempted to return there, to make sure it was all mopped up in a timely fashion. But he was tired, and wanted to see Nilene for at least a minute before deciding on his next course of action.

She wasn't in her tent- it was empty. Looking around for her, he found that he couldn't locate Hurra either. Leatherman was asleep in the healer's tent, and with no other clue to go on, Roddinklerk mustered the energy to walk up the mountain to the hidden cave.

He grinned broadly upon seeing that Nilene was waiting there for him. She smiled back at him shyly, wearing a rough-spun gray shirt, dark trousers, and scuffed boots. She also had on a travel-stained blue jacket, of the style favored by noblemen, (found amongst Keffan's gear). Her hair was tied back, and her face looked freshly washed, with no traces of makeup.

"Nilene... I want to apologize for the other night, I-"

Nilene sighed, "You don't have to apologize, Roddinklerk. It's my own fault."

He moved to hold her, but she pulled back, "How can it be your fault? I'm the one who got too far ahead of himself, I-"

"Look at me."

Roddinklerk looked at Nilene, but didn't see it. "What? Is something wrong?"

Nilene grimaced, and pulled her hair back tighter, "Look at me! Can't you see it?"

The illusion held, and Roddinklerk shook his head in confusion, "What are you talking about? See what?"

Nilene felt a rising mix of anger and anguish- stripped of makeup, hair back in a fashion worn by men all the time, and in male clothing- and Roddinklerk still couldn't see it! "Gods-damn-all, man! You have my face up on banners all over camp, now LOOK AT ME!" She held her head to the side, trying to strike the same profile as the one used by the Nirik Resistance flag.

Roddinklerk looked, and began to feel a dropping sensation in his guts. His eyes widened, skin turning pale, and he felt his heart thump against his breastbone. "You- you... you can't be..."

Nilene nodded imperiously, "I am."

"Nirik?" He backed away, "NIRIK?! You-" He looked at her wildly, "I- we..."

She couldn't look at him, and stared out of the alcove's entrance, "Now you understand why I couldn't accept your proposal..."

He glared at her, "Then why did you- What have you made me into?!"

Nilene scowled at him, "I haven't 'made' you into anything! I told you before, I've been having to do whatever I have to, be whoever I have to, to survive. If, for a time, that entailed me letting you believe I was a pretty young girl willing to go down on you- then so be it. I never knew who you were, I never expected to run into you again! You haven't done anything that should make you question your manhood!" She laughed, "And once I found out what you've been doing in my name, well, how could I possibly tell you then?"

"So why tell me now?"

Nilene considered this, "Courtesy, I suppose. You don't deserve to have me run off on you without a word of explanation. And since I am leaving, I wanted to give you my permission to use the name of Duke Nirik in any way you want." Nilene looked at him, but he didn't reply, just stared down at the floor, with a troubled look on his face. "Look, just one last thing... Do this country a favor, and change its damned name. Archimere himself told me that was the real reason behind the invasion! Our name is also Dramore."

He looked at her, and then darted his eyes away, "But, the foothold-"

Nilene shook her head, "He says he had enough coastline as it is. He doesn't care about that one whit. Change the name, and you'll have a much easier time driving the Dramicine out."

Realizing he would speak no more to her, she stepped past him, careful to avoid touching him, and went out onto the ridge. The night sky blazed brilliantly above her, and she took a deep breath before stepping down, and over the border into Farthestar.

Hurra waited for her by an outcropping of rock several hundred yards below. At her feet were their packs, and she asked as Nilene approached, "So, how did he take it?"

Nilene frowned as she bent over to scoop up her pack, "I imagine it could have gone better- I don't know for sure, I don't have a whole lot of experience having to tell guys that the girl they just fell for is actually a man."

"He didn't get violent, did he?" Hurra wouldn't have put it past him to do such, but Nilene shook her head.

"No. He was angry, but was holding it in. Almost accused me of turning him into a boy-lover!"

Hurra grimaced, "That's silly! I thought Connelarians were supposed to be more open-minded than that."

Nilene rolled her eyes, "Men."

The pleasant terrain of forests and meadowland continued on after they reached the far side of the bordering mountains, stretching on as far as they could see. It was called the Loggerstroke Forest, and was the heart and soul of Farthestar's industry. Two centuries earlier, Sea-Folk traders purchased this stretch of land between the bordering mountains and the cliffs of Thunderhead, all for access to the trees of this forest. An entire industry of ship-crafting and logging had grown along the coast of Farthestar, and after two hundred years, the majority of Sea-Folk vessels were built from Loggerstroke timber.

Numerous dirt roads cut through this wilderness, and Nilene and Hurra set themselves upon one heading east. Unlike war-devastated North Dramore, the roads of Farthestar bore traffic. Men on horseback, cart-hauling workers, even the occasional team of oxen pulling long bundles of uncut timbers would pass them by as they moved steadily east. "Good afternoon, ladies!" A man on horseback hailed them, sauntering by while tipping his hat to Nilene.

She blushed angrily, fuming, "Gods-damn-all-"

Hurra laughed, and patted Nilene's arm. Nilene had been assuming that the Colonel's problem with seeing that 'she' was a boy- had been that he had gotten to know her as Nilene first. Surely, dressed again in a man's clothing, the people they would now meet wouldn't make the same mistake. But they did. Everyone they passed along the road looked at Nilene, and saw a pretty young girl, on the road and wearing some of her brother's clothing.

"I didn't mean to laugh, dear," apologized Hurra, upon seeing the freezing look Nilene was giving her. "I'm sorry, I'm sure he meant-" her words were squeezed off by another bout of giggling.

Nilene did not look very amused, "I just don't get it... Is it my hair? Why does everyone still think I'm a girl?!"

Hurra looked over at her as they walked side-by-side, "I don't think that's it, Nilene- It's just... well, it's just you, I think."

Nilene hung her head, "I may as well just put my dress back on when we reach a town."

Hurra shrugged, "I was wondering why you even brought them along," she turned her head, hearing a noise, "Better get off the road, we got a rider coming through, fast!" She grabbed one of Nilene's sleeves, and pulled her to the side of the road.

But the rider did not race by them, instead pulling his horse to a stop right in front of them, turning it around. He was a young man, dressed in legion harness, with a small bandage over the bridge of his nose-

"Thromwick!"

He smiled down at them nervously, "Oh, uh- hi, Nilene. Hurra." He nodded to the older woman.

She asked him, "And what are you doing out here, young man?"

"You're not going awol, are you?" Nilene asked in turn.

He shook his head, and dropped down off his horse, answering Hurra's question, "The Colonel sent me, to escort you the rest of the way to Thunderhead. You'll get in easier if you have someone in the Legions with you." He didn't mention that it was also to make sure Nilene got on a boat and sailed away from the Contested Territories. The Colonel had been in a stormy mood, and Thromwick had a pretty good guess as to why.

Nilene pursed her lips, thinking about whether to accept this or not, "He didn't say anything to you, did he?"

Thromwick shrugged, "About what?"

Nilene gave him a look, but decided not to press it. Hurra chimed in, "You only brought one horse."

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder at the steed, "I'll walk, while you two ride."

Only Hurra ended up riding that horse. Nilene preferred to walk alongside Thromwick, though they spoke nary a word to each other, until night fell, and Nilene asked if they should stop and set camp.

"Just wait, I see some lights up ahead..." Thromwick replied. They soon found themselves walking up to a roadside inn, the sort frequented by lumberjacks and travelers down the road. Thromwick helped Hurra down off the horse, which he then lashed to a rail in front of the inn's front porch.

They seemed to be doing an average amount of business that night, as Nilene lead her companions inside the cozy lobby. She paid for two rooms, one with two beds, and they trudged wearily upstairs to find them.

Nilene and Hurra had the room with the two beds. Nilene dropped her pack to the floor and flopped down on one of the straw mattresses, sighing with relief.

Hurra sat down on the edge of the other bed, and looked around the room, before settling her gaze on Nilene, "Well, we made it, kid. We're in Farthestar! Gods-save-me for what happened to you to get you here! If Herik-"

Propping herself up on her elbows, Nilene regarded her, "Quit blaming yourself, Hurra! It happened. It's over. And it's not like you told those men to fuck me... and I could have resisted."

"Ha! -and be laying dead in some cave in the back country, no doubt, if you had! Or executed by that nefarious Lord Dra-" Hurra started to say.

"Notorious, mayhaps, but not nefarious. He wasn't going to cut my head off." Nilene explained, "He and I- really aren't all that different." she sat up with a moan of effort, and leaned over to pick up her bag, rummaging through its contents.

Hurra frowned, and made a slight change of subject, "So, what's with your young legionnaire? He's been in a mood all day."

Nilene shrugged, shaking out one of her dresses, "He sort of, well..."

Hurra's eyes widened, "He knows? Did you tell him?"

Nilene put the dress down angrily in her lap, "No! He found out while he was rescuing me. Dramore was... comparing notes with me when he burst into the room." She finished, trying to phrase it diplomatically.

"I'm surprised he went along with the Colonel sending him out to escort us-"

Nilene hung her head, "He told me he didn't care about it- that he loved me anyway."

Hurra furrowed her brow, "And you told him?"

Nilene sighed exasperatingly, "I told him that he was way to young to be making those kind of decisions about himself, and that-"

Hurra reminded her, "You're only seventeen too, Nilene. Choices don't give a damn about how old we are when we have to face them."

"What exactly are you getting at?" Nilene demanded.

Hurra looked at her, "What I'm saying is that boy in the room across the hall has gone through two hells and back to save your prim little ass! Why are you even in this room?! I'm not telling you to marry the kid, but if he says he doesn't care anyway, the least you can do for him, after all he's been through for you- is throw him a bone!"

Nilene pouted her lips, and thought about it.

Thromwick couldn't sleep. A solitary candle burned on the table by his bed, which was untouched and unoccupied. He stood leaning against the frame of the room's large window, a boot resting on the low sill. He looked out into the night, moodily- wishing it was raining to match his feelings, not clear and beautiful and-

There was a polite knock on the door.

He unfolded his arms, and stepped across the room, calling as he went, "I'll be right there!" He opened the door, anticipating one of the inn's staff to be standing there. His jaw dropped open slightly when he saw who it was.

"Hi, Throm." It was Nilene. She was huddled in her blue coat, and her hair had been combed out to fall in golden waves upon her shoulders. Hurra had helped her put on just the light hint of makeup which Nilene preferred. He couldn't see what she had on under the coat, but black stockings clung to her legs, and she had on a pair of frumpy slippers she had borrowed from Hurra.

"Oh, Nilene! Uh-"

"May I come in?" She asked, stepping by him before he could respond.

"Oh, um, sure Nilene... I- I wasn't expecting to see you..." He spoke falteringly and nervous. Nilene had gone over by the bed, to pick up the lit candle to touch its flame to the wicks of its neighbors.

"Could you close the curtains, Throm?" She asked, finishing lighting the candles, "We need to talk."

Pulling the thick drapery shut, Throm turned to ask, "So, what do you want to talk about, Ni-"

She had let the coat drop to the floor. Underneath, Nilene wore a dark blue chemise, its hem falling to the top of her thighs. She didn't have her bra on, and was flat chested, but Thromwick could clearly see her nipples outlined through the fabric. Garter straps reached down from under the garment's hem, to clip onto the stockings. The bottom of peach-colored panties were also barely visible under the hemline, bulged out it front, as Nilene was doing nothing to conceal her true self.

She walked up to him, stepping out of the slippers, "I was talking about it with Hurra, Throm- and I realized I've been treating you poorly..."

He edged back slightly as she came up close, but not out of revulsion- more from shear terror, "Oh, really? Well, uh, that's quite alright, um- Nilene, I uh... I thought you didn't want me to-"

She pressed against him, shushing his lips with a finger, "You don't have to explain. You've shown me kindness after kindness, and all I've done in return is be rude to you. So..." She reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt, "Even though I do still think you are a little too young to be declaring your undying love for me, I've decided that the very least I could do- is give you a night to remember me by..." Grabbing his loosened collar, she pulled him down to kiss her.

They stumbled back to the bed, her hands moving to undress him as they went. It hadn't happened to her, during her first first-time, but she had heard the old stereotype- and Thromwick was one of those guys who had lead to it. Thankfully, he was young, virile, and eager- and not missing a beat, she continued to take him in past her lips.

She had been pleased to see that he was a bit larger than Gevane, after unbuckling his pants, and still not fully grown. Since he had already finished once, she knew he'd take a while longer to finish a second time, and moved up to straddle him, after hiking her panties off.

"Are you ready?" She asked, steadying herself above him.

"I don't know, I-"

She rolled her eyes at him, and sat herself down slowly. Thromwick gasped as she took his virginity. Nilene rode atop of him for a while, looking down into his eyes, before dismounting, and making him come at her from behind, like she enjoyed best. She wasn't sure if it was some residual effect from Archimere's 'Pure Milk', or a result of his youthful enthusiasm, but in the end she got off twice against her pillow, before he finally collapsed atop her, spent.

It was a little after midnight when they emerged, half-dressed, to wander downstairs to the tavern portion of the inn. Nilene had her coat back over her, and a pair of Legion-issued boxer briefs over her garters and the tops of her stockings. He just had on pants and a shirt, going barefoot down the wooden stairs. To their surprise, they found a crowd of people, clustered over by the end of the bar, talking with someone they couldn't make out.

Nilene asked a passing wench, "What's going on?"

The curly haired Sea-wench filled her in on the gossip, "Word has just come in from the border- Lord Dramore is said to be on the retreat, after the resistance ambushed his regiment out in the flats. But that's just the little news..." The wench looked around, "Duke Nirik is dead!"

"No!" Nilene exclaimed.

"That's impossible, he's-" Thromwick started to say, until Nilene elbowed him.

Nilene inquired, "How in all the world could such a terrible thing have happened?"

The wench seemed pleased to be the one to educate them, and leaned in close to tell the tale, "Well, because Lord Dramore had issued a warrant for the arrest of the Duke, Nirik was forced to go into hiding, and direct the resistance through a trusted ally. This friend, who is known only as the Colonel- and a dashing man they say he is, ma'am," she winked at Nilene, "Well this Colonel, you see, had a young gilly- and when one of Dramore's agent's conspired to kidnap her, Duke Nirik himself came down to help fight in secret when the Resistance attacked Dramore's camp to save her. It wasn't until after the battle was won, that the Colonel himself discovered Nirik amongst the bodies of the fallen, dressed in the armor of the Legion. They held a big funeral for him at their camp, on the very mountain where Nirik's secret cave is said to be- laid to rest in a pyre, wearing the Imperial armor he fell in. The Colonel says it is a sign that Nirik's last wish was for North Dramore to unify with Connelar, and abandon the Dramore name, he wants to rename the country 'Loyalport'. He's now rallying the people to retake Fort Valor, and riders have been sent out to spread word amongst the refugees in neighboring lands- to tell them it's safe to come home!"

Thromwick was curious, "What happened to the colonel's lover?"

The wench made a sour face, "The young hussy ran off on him! Right after he proposed marriage and all!" She added confidentially, "They says she was having an affair with a young-buck Private!" The wench scurried off to return to her work, and Nilene and Thromwick looked at each other, trying not to laugh.

"Well," Nilene objected, "They weren't having an affair at the time..."

They started laughing out loud, and when people started giving them angry looks, they went back upstairs. Nilene grabbed Thromwick's arm to halt him halfway, "I don't feel like hearing Hurra's reaction to this yet, so if you don't mind, I think I'd rather go ahead and spend the night in your room."

He didn't mind at all.

CHAPTER NINE: Thunderhead

Traveling at walking speed, it took them another three days to reach the eastern border of Farthestar. Nilene had stayed true to her word, and had not lain with Thromwick since that night at the inn, (where they had gone at it two more times before going to sleep). But Hurra couldn't help but noticed that they tended to walk and stand close to one another, and spoke together in hushed tones. Or that Nilene was back to wearing dresses again. Slowly the landscape changed around them, as the road lead them north and east.

They passed through a heavily deforested region, surrounding the sprawling city of Gurdenvode, which was a ugly settlement of wooden, one-storied buildings and muddy streets. They skirted the city as best they could, and for a brief while, the forests rose again around the road, until they reached the outer march of Farthestar.

The forest ended abruptly against a new landscape, one of chalky soil and rising cliffs, marching towards the sea. Nilene had reached the borders of Thunderhead.

A white castle reared atop a thrusting promontory of cliffs- the ground-level fortifications of Thunderhead. The sky was pregnant with winter storms, ready to birth them upon the coasts of the Freezing Sea. As word of the Resistance victory spread, the flow of refugees seeking passage at Thunderhead had significantly lessened, and with a new wave of Dramicine forces marching up from Snowreach Horn, the Legion navy was battening down the city for a storm of a different kind.

The roads leading up to the castle gates seemed ominously empty, and the silver banners of the Legion Navy whipped about it the wind loudly- rustling with an occasional snap! of fabric. Right at the gates, legionnaires hurried about building reinforcements to the massive iron-banded doors. Seeing his legion harness, no one bothered Thromwick as he lead the two women accompanying him inside the city.

There was a frantic rush of people, but it all seemed to be shop owners and city workers, legion personnel and those too stubborn to leave their homes. Everyone else had already booked passage out, it seemed. Finding one of the large entrance stairwells that lead down into the sub-levels of the city, Nilene paused to read a notification.

• ATTENTION! CITIZENS!

By Decree of Marshal Tarvun Lorthinthral- Military Governor of Thunderhead, and Commander in Chief of His Imperial Majesty's Legion Naval Division: All Civilian Sea Craft Must Disembark from Thunderhead Harbors No Later Than Seventeen of the Clock on the Twenty-Second Day of Embers-

(Nilene did some mental calculations, "That was three days ago!" She kept reading.)

-in the Twelve-Hundred and Eighty-Seventh Year of the Imperial Calendar. As of the Zero-Hour on the Twenty-Third Day of Embers All Displaced Civilian Refugees Must Vacate the City. Report to Redistribution Camp In Farthestar. City Curfew Is Modified As Follows:Castle Levels-

She crumpled the notice, letting it drop to join the other litter on the streets. She looked at her two companions- "Well, what do we do?"

Thromwick suggested, "There will still be legion ships here- Roddinklerk wanted me to come along to make sure you got through all the security..."

Hurra added, "Couldn't hurt to try at this point, I suppose."

They hurried down the stairs, leaving the horse above, looking around confusedly. The stairwell lead down into the sub-levels; massive warrens dug out of the limestone, housing an entire city, with beautifully appointed walls and lighting. The activity down here seemed much as it did topside, only essential personnel and services remaining, and everyone getting ready for a siege. Reports had come in that the advancing Dramicine were bringing a total of three siege-engines to savage Thunderhead's walls, and they would arrive within the next twenty-four hours.

Finally they reached the lowest level, and the entrance to the cavern harbors. The civilian eastern harbor bays were empty, but the imperial ones were a hive of activity. Thromwick had to argue with a sentry to let them in, in the end pulling out the papers proving he was under orders from Colonel Roddinklerk himself. Nilene gaped when they entered the massive chamber, and looked around at everything like a tourist, as they went down a flight of wall-hugging stairs to reach the line of docked war-ships.

Crewmen were too busy loading cargo and securing lines, and it took them some time to flag someone's attention. It was a short-haired blonde woman, in an officer's uniform, jotting down notes on a clip-board as she watched crewmen heave cargo onto pallets.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant." Thromwick said with military politeness.

She glanced up from her papers, "Yes, Private- can I help you?"

He gestured at his companions, "I certainly hope so, I was dispatched by Colonel Roddinklerk to escort these two to Thunderhead. I am under explicit orders to ensure they are safely put on a boat out of Thunderhead. Unfortunately, even though I have papers for them, I have been having some trouble securing them passage. Would it be possible to speak to your captain?"

Looking the two women over briefly, she gave Thromwick a slightly quizzical look, but offered, "I can't make any promises, but I may be able to get you a a minute with the captain, so you can at least show him your papers- wait right here."

She walked off, looking over the heads of the crewmen, and after a tense few minutes, came back with a tall Connelarian man with gray-streaked black hair. He swept them with his gaze, "I'm Captain Davenal, what can I do for you, Private?"

Thromwick snapped a quick salute, "Thank you, sir. I appreciate you sparing me your time, in the midst of all this. Sir, I am under orders to secure passage out of Thunderhead for these two women, and I am afraid to say my options are getting thin, sir."

Davenal quirked an eyebrow, "Do you have papers?"

Thromwick handed them over, and as the Captain started to rifle through them he mentioned, "I can appreciate your predicament, Corporal, but I'm not sure what exactly I can do about it. My ship is making ready to sail to Broadside Bay, not Jopall. I-" He was cut off by the sudden wail of cranked sirens, and looked up, handing Thromwick's papers back. "I'm sorry, son, but it looks like you're on your own for now. Just keep low, and down in the sub-levels, and you all should be able to wait it out until this is over, and civilian traffic returns."

Nilene wasn't satisfied, and grabbed for Davenal's arm, "Wait! Please! What are these sirens for?"

He pulled away from her grasp, and replied as he stalked off to his ship, "That's the final signal to lock down the city. In thirty minutes all the portals will be sealed!"

Nilene looked at Thromwick and Hurra in turn. None of them felt like being locked into a city about to be ruthlessly attacked, so they turned as one, and made for the stairs. It was a race through the twisting corridors of the sub-level city to reach one of the surface stairwells. Seeing hazy daylight above them, they reached the top of the winding stairs just as a man stepped into the entrance- heading down.

It was Mactar.

"Wait!" The Gulean put up his hands, palms outward, as Nilene and Hurra both turned to bolt. "I just want to talk to you!"

Hurra went down several steps, but Nilene turned to regard the mercenary. She had heard many things about Mactar while with the Western Company, but a inclination towards treachery wasn't amongst them. "Then speak, and be quick about it- we don't have much time before we're all locked in here!"

Mactar bowed slightly, "Understood, madame. I am in similar straits. I have managed to sign on as crew on a merchant vessel, but my first order is to find him a ship's gilly- If I don't get back to the ship in time, they will leave without me-" He glanced between Nilene and Hurra, "I don't have time to look any longer, and I assume you two are trying to get out of here too... Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement?"

Hurra took control- gillying being her profession and all, "What is the offered rate?"

Mactar didn't hesitate- "Ten gold-anchors per month, plus whatever gratuities the men offer are yours to keep. Boarding included."

Hurra looked hard at Nilene, who nodded, before the veteran of the bedsheets answered, "If you think the Captain will let us split the wage between us, and take us both on- then we have a deal."

Hurra and Mactar shook hands, and he said, "Blessed Jandara! You have no idea how much this helps me out! Now come on, we must hurry!"

They made to move away, and Nilene turned to look at Thromwick.

This was it.

She embraced him, and kissed his cheek, and he told her, "I love you."

She tightened her embrace, "I know, and I thank you for it." She pulled back from him, "I won't ever forget you, and what you've done for me!"

He waved at her one final time, "Farewell, Nilene..."

"Goodbye, Throm! Take care of yourself!"

Thromwick watched them go for a time, before he hung his head, and went off in search of his horse. The sirens wailed, but only half as loud as his heart.

The great doors were starting to swing shut, as they reached the city gates. They squeezed through just as they snapped closed, and off to the south, a cloud of dust kicked up by an army on the move, siege-engines rearing high above the haze, could be seen approaching the city.

"Never mind them, follow me!" Mactar urged, turning to the right to lead them toward the cliffs.

Nilene asked while stepping over rocks, "I thought all the civilian craft had been ordered out of harbor days ago, where is this ship supposed to be?"

Mactar answered over his shoulder, running ahead of her, "The order was only for harbors in the city of Thunderhead. The ship is anchored at a fisherman's pier, at the bottom of the cliffs- we'll have to follow an old path to get down!"

The path wasn't just old, it was terrifyingly narrow, and zig-zagged down the face of the cliff, just out of sight of the castle walls. As they carefully made their way down, clinging to each other and the rocks, Nilene could see the ship anchored below. There seemed to be a flurry of activity on deck, and Mactar started waving a small yellow rag over his head. Someone down there must have been on the look-out, because soon they could see another yellow flag waving back at them.

As they reached the bottom, they found themselves on a old and rotting wooden pier, jutting out into the choppy sea. Men were busy with last minute cargoes, and a bearded man in a black coat and cap watched over it all, from the railing of the sleek, twin-masted sailing vessel. He spied Mactar running up to the end of the pier, and walked down the loading ramp to greet his new merchant-marine.

"Mactar! I knew you'd make it back in time!" he clasped the Gulean's hand, and looked passed him to the girls. Mactar explained:

"They're the best I could do on such short notice. They come as a pair, but are willing to split the standard wage between them. The fair-haired one is really one of those, how do you people say? ... men-women? I don't know, but she had a solid reputation amongst the mercenaries."

The Captain blinked at this last bit, as did both Nilene and Hurra. He had never felt a need to tell anyone, assuming they all knew anyway, but from the moment she was captured, Mactar alone amongst the Western Company had known Nilene's true gender, (though not her true identity). Guleans were seldom fooled by the tricks of northern races. But the bearded man shrugged, "I'm sure plenty of the boys won't mind that." He stepped around Mactar, to extend a hand to both of them, smiling broadly, "Good evening, ladies." He leaned over to kiss the back of each of their offered hands in turn, "I am Forgjrd Slowhand, Captain of the 'Fat Haul'." He looked at Mactar, "But no, a split wage is not going to do! Not going to do at all! We'll have to pay them ten each!" he looked back at the girls, "Though you two will have to bunk together. I can spare an extra ten gold, but we can't grow a new cabin. Are these acceptable terms?"

The last crates were being carried up the ramp, and Mactar was already heading up when Captain Forgjrd took Hurra's hand to escort her to the deck. Nilene looked back, up to the top of the cliffs-

She could change her mind still, turn around and go back. It would complicate Roddinklerk's plans greatly, but she could even reclaim her name and her life... And live under the constant shadow of threat of death and war...

Or... she could be a whore on a merchant vessel sailing around the world...

Faintly, from beyond the cliffs, Nilene could start to hear the first violent clashes of battle. She whispered a prayer to the wilderman-goddess Karingaesa, to keep Thromwick safe. She squared her shoulders, and made her decision.

Nilene stepped onto the boarding ramp- because in the end, what choice did she really have?