Dillon's Story 5

This is the latest I've written. The part after the break may not make it past this draft--I was bored and it sounded like fun to add that scene in. So yeah. Enjoy. :)

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Fire. Someone Dillon didn't recognize, but felt connected to somehow. It was a woman. She looked at him as the fire came, and smiled. Such a wonderful smile. Then there was laughter that sounded as though it came from a mad man. Maizus. Of course. He had cast the hellfire. Maizus' face, younger yet somehow just as old. The mage smiled as the woman looked at him, and suddenly the hellfire engulfed her. She screamed: a blood-curdling, piercing scream.

Dillon's eyes flew open and he sat up, his chest heaving. Being near water meant the nights were not as cold as in the desert, but Arabella had created a small purple flame to give them light. Dillon looked around. He could see Gerard's outline far across the lagoon. Perisseus slept standing, keeping watch while Amadae stretched out in the grass. Arabella was peacefully asleep a short ways away. Dillon's breathing calmed as he watched her sleep. The firelight made her skin sparkle and her hair glisten, surrounding her head like a silver pillow. She looked so serene.

After a moment Dillon took a deep breath and stood. Perisseus' ear twitched towards the sound of movement, but soon lazily drifted back in place. A gentle breeze caressed Dillon's face as he made his way towards the water's edge. A sliver of a moon made a snake-like image in the slightly rippled water.

Dillon sighed as he sat down in the grass. His thought swirled with the moon's reflection in the lazy surface of the water, and his fingers plowed furrows in his hair as if to relieve the pressure.

"Is something wrong?"

Arabella's pale feet had made so little noise as she crossed the green strands that Dillon hadn't heard her approach. He looked up, somewhat startled, then let out a breath.

He opened his mouth to answer her, and then paused. The shadow of his thoughts' volley could be seen in his cool eyes, but at last his personality seemed to win over. "No. Nothing. I was just... just thinking."

His gaze returned to the lake as Arabella sat beside him, close enough to smell her gentle lavender scent but not close enough to feel her warmth.

Arabella was silent for a while, content to let him think. Finally, her voice seemed to reply to Dillon's thoughts. "Geilkern will help you. You can win this."

Dillon snorted and glanced sideways at her without moving his head. "What makes you so sure? Maizus is the most powerful being the world has ever known. Even the King trusts him, the fool."

He shivered slightly as Arabella's fingers brushed his arm, soft enough to make him wonder if it had happened at all. He looked up at her, and was shocked by the confidence he saw in her eyes.

"Go to Geilkern. Bring help here. You will get your kingdom back, Dillon."

Leaving Dillon without a characteristic retort, Arabella simply stood and walked away, her silvery hair outcompeting the moon.

--~~*^*~~--
The desert was the rainshadow of the Qyran Mountains. The air of the desert was hot and dry, sucking the very breath out of living souls. But as glad as Dillon was to put the baking desert behind him, the chill wetness of the mounatins were nearly as bad. The morning fog fought to be lifted from the ground and seemed to cling to trunks of trees and the undersides of boulders to avoid being beaten out by the sun.

Perisseus pawed a stiff leg, anxious to get moving. There seemed little difference between the stream they had camped by and the clothes on Dillon's back; both were wet and cold. Dillon hoisted the saddle onto his horse and patted the dark shoulder, his fingers almost numb as he tightened the cinch, adjusted his heavy cloak, and mounted.

The road had finally begun a descent, and horse nor rider could wish their destination closer. Perisseus moved as fast as Dillon would let him. The path followed the river, which grew the further they moved along. Then the river dropped into a ravine where it left the mountains, and the road hugged the cliffside until the two caught up. It wouldn't be long now--Dillon could see the winding path up ahead and envisioned open land beyond the next mountain.

He leaned forward and gave Perisseus' neck a solid pat. "Nearly there, old friend. Nearly there."

Perisseus' muscles bunched and his stride shortened, his ears swiveling as if following a particularly quick fly. Dillon frowned and tipped his head to the side a bit, then glanced around the ravine. The air was beginning to warm, richer in oxygen as they progressed downward. Looking over the edge of the cliff, Dillon could see the river some thirty feet below. He thought he saw a discomforting mound in the current, hollow and torn.

He and Perisseus heard it at the same time. A low, tense howl--wolves speaking to one another. Perisseus snorted and stopped, still prancing anxiously. Dillon turned to look behind them as another sharp yowl answered the first. The canyon walls made it nearly impossible to tell from where the cries came. Dillon didn't like it, but Perisseus liked it less.

Dillon knew if they could just get around the next corner, the road would probalby slope down into forest, and then on to the valley and the kingdom of Geilkern. If they could just make it around that corner, they might have a chance of escape. Here, they were a young fox caught with a curious child at each end of its den. Dillon felt Perisseus' flanks twitch as he urged the horse forward, leaning forward to whisper encouragement into the shivering ebony ear.

Perisseus' steps were tense as he made his way forward, still searching wildly for a source. But he stopped once more when a shaggy wolf, three feet high at least and whose brown, mangled coat resembled a rotting leaf, appeared in their path. Even under patches of thick fur, it was obvious the beast was starving. Perisseus' breath came in short snorts as he backed away, but the appearance of two smaller black wolves behind them forced the horse to back into the cavern wall.

Dillon cursed under his breath, glancing betwen the three wolves and gritting his teeth. The wolves must have been following them for hours now, while their companion lay in wait on the path ahead. His hands tightened on the reins, the sound of the metal bit against Perisseus' teeth joining the low growls of the beasts surrounding them. They were closing in.

The tension was suffocating, forcing every being to hold his breath.

Then Dillon drove his heels into Perisseus' hide, shouting as he pushed his loyal mount onward. With a threatening squeal, Perisseus lauched from the rock face and towards the largest wolf. The unweildy branch of tension snapped, and the wolves lunged.

Dillon could hear the lusty breath of the wolves behind him, snapping at Perisseus' heels. He held tightly as Perisseus rocked and bucked, kicking at the attackers. One wolf yelped as its jaw caught the iron of Perisseus' shoe and fell off the cliff into the river. The second wolf paused for only a moment; the reassuring bark of the defeated wolf made the second attack renewed.

The brown wolf had reached them now. It lunged at Perisseus' throat, digging its fangs into the warm flesh as Perisseus reared. The horse struck at the beast with a shrill whinny, and Dillon had to work hard to keep from tumbling from the horse's back. The black wolf leaped and caught Dillon's elbow. Dillon cried out as the sharp teeth embeded in his arm, unsheathing his sword with the other hand. But the wolf was too near Perisseus' hindquarters to use the blade; wincing as his own blow drove the wolf's teeth deeper, Dillon used the hilt of his sword to strike the beast's head.

The wolf yelped and fell from Dillon's arm. Dillon turned his attention forward as Perisseus began to spin, trying to get the brown wolf off of his neck. Dillon could see the gleam of red against his horse's black coat in the sun; his lip curled in anger and he thrust the point of his sword forward, straight toward the wolf's chest.

The wolf's yelp was cut short. With one last toss of Perisseus' head, the beast fell away from the horse's throat and off of Dillon's sword. As if for good measure, Perisseus stepped hurriedly over the mottled, bleeding corpse and kicked it hard; there was a crunch as the body fell down the ravine, hitting the stone wall on its way.

The lone black wolf still behind them, Perisseus began to run; and Dillon let him. Stones shot from beneath each galloping step and clattered down towards the stream. Foam gathered at Perisseus' mouth, and a lather of sweat accumulated in contrast against his great black chest. They rounded the final bend and the road straightened, sloping downward to meet the river before they disappeared together among the trees.

Dillon glanced over his shoulder--the wolf stood at the edge of the stone shelf, watching them with a sort of respect. Resistance must have been knew to the creature, for fear shone in its amber eyes as it turned and leapt to the riverbed and headed up river towards its surviving companion. At last, Dillon tightened the reins and drew Perisseus in.

He dropped his bloody sword in the grass as he dismounted and took hold of his beloved horse's head even before they had stopped competely. Both trembled slightly as their chests heaved in near union; both bled but did not care, for they were safe.

Dillon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Perisseus', his hand stroking the wide, smooth disc of the horse's cheek. Perisseus' warm breath shot in bursts against Dillon's chest. As both the man and his horse began to calm, Dillon showed an allusion of a smile. "You, my good Perisseus, are the greatest warrior I could ever hope to have at my side in battle."

Dillon's Story 4

The soft rhythm of the horses' hooves punctuated the eerie silence as they entered the town. Renden was the last village on the edge of Reun before the great desert dividing Reun and Gielkern. In the height of the two kingdoms' alliance, Renden had bustled with the passing of those stopping for supplies before crossing the desert, but Maizus' fist had reached even this remote town. Few traveled to Gielkern, and the city was nearly vacant.

The penetrating quiet made Dillon's brow furrow and his face turn hard. The streets on the outskirts of town were deserted, despite the sun's height in the sky. As they neared the market of Renden, the dull static of a crowd began to reach their ears. But this was not the light-hearted banter that should have existed in such a marketplace at midday. This was a frightened, disgruntled hush that rose and fell beneath the piercing instruction of a self-inducted authority.

Dillon slowed Perisseus as they met the edge of the crowd of locals. Curiosity framed Arabella's expression as Amadae moved up beside the great black stallion, and Gerard looked exceptionally nervous.

"By order of King Willian, all able-bodied men will offer their services to the crown," an armored officer announced to the rebuke of the crowd, reading from a scroll he held aloft. "All other residents of Renden will assist in readying the village and surrounding area for the stationing of King Willian's army. Failure to obey completely the orders of the King will be subject to punishment as seen fit by the commanding officer bearing this order. Should any man fail to report for service in the army, his wife and children will be held responsible and will serve the deserter's punishment."

The dread and dismay could be felt emminating from the crowd. Husbands held wives and children. Old men glared at the pompous suit of armor before them. Infants wailed, refusing to be hushed by their mothers. Dillon's face held only loathing and contempt as he suddenly pulled the reins and guided Perisseus away from the crowd. Arabella remained a moment more, her eyes filled with pity, before she followed Dillon's lead.

Gerard's big green eyes looked as though they would spill oversized tears, but his brow knit in anger as the officer's voice and the chatter of the crowd faded behind them. "What a bully! Why, I'd like to get my roots around the neck of that King Willian and--"

"It's not Willian that's the problem," Dillon snapped, his voice seeping with fury. "Willian has become a mere puppet in the hands of Maizus. It is Maizus' will that demands so much of the people, now. He will stop at nothing, not even the deaths of every soul in Reun, simply for the sake of power."

Gerard fell silent, and so did Dillon. They rode out of the town and towards the desert without speaking, but it was obvious that Dillon's mind could not rest. They stopped outside Renden where a small brook ran on the edge of the desert. Perisseus drank as Dillon swung down from the saddle. He let Amadae drink as well as he helped Arabella to the ground. Gerard slid down by himself and wandered a few yards off to drink of the brook's fresh water. As After seeing that Arabella drank, Dillon drank to his own fill and began to fill the water skins.

Arabella watched Dillon as she stroked Amadae's smooth coat, damp from sweat in the heat of the day. Arabella's eyes moved back to the horse as she spoke. "That's why we've come this far, you know." Her voice was soft as usual, steadied by a further determination in their cause. "To save the people from Maizus' rule."

Dillon stopped as he corked the second skin, staring blindly into the small river.

Arabella glanced in his direction, and continued when he did not respond. "/Your/ people, Dillon."

Dillon stood and tied the skins to the horses. "After what you've just seen, what makes you think the people will leave to follow me? Maizus knows there will be insurrection, and he's taken precautions against it. No man would leave his family to suffer for his desertion. What protection can I offer? A band of family-less criminals can hardly take on an army."

Arabella fell into silent thought and accepted Dillon's help to mount Amadae once more. Gerard came back and she helped the half-nymph onto the horse behind her.

Dillon stroked Perisseus' muzzle for a moment, gazing at his strong companion, before he swung into the saddle and led the horses onto the worn path through the desert. Silence hung over them as the sun set, allowing the travelers the amenity of the cool night. Holding tight to the back of Amadae's saddle, Gerard fell asleep. Dillon's eyes remained fastened ahead, though his expression never lightened.

"You must find help."

Dillon's head turned towards Arabella as she spoke. He stared at her for a moment before looking forward again. "And who you do you suggest I go to for help?" His lip curled in an angry sneer. "My father?"

Arabella watched him intently. "Your mother."

Dillon scoffed. "My mother is dead. What help could she be to us now?"

"Go to Gielkern, Dillon," Arabella urged calmly. Dillon shot her a glance, but did not attack the idea. Arabella continued. "You said yourself it is your mother's kingdom. Go to them. Tell them what has happened here, and what you plan to do. Tell them of Maizus, and ask for their help in defeating him."

Dillon remained silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice had softened. He sounded almost hopeful. "Why would they help me? What proof do I have that I am telling the truth?"

"You have only your word," Arabella replied. "But you are Prince of Reun, son of Cammilia, Queen of Reun and once Princess of Gielkern. They will listen to you. What harm is there in trying?"

Dillon thought carefully. If Gielkern was on his side, the people might feel safe in joining him. Arabella was right: even if they could not help, the least Dillon could do was try.

--~~*^*~~--
Dillon washed the layers of caked dust from Perisseus' coat while Arabella bathed out of sight among reeds. Gerard had disappeared among the vegitation. Amadae, her clean white coat gleaming in the evenig sun, grazed on the lush grasses along the edge of the desert lake. Perisseus, though enjoying the bath at his master's hands, was anxious to do the same. The journey to the oasis had taken several days, which was evidenced by the dust that still clung to Dillon's face and clothes. When Perisseus was satisfactorily clean, Dillon slapped his faithful friend's flank and let him wander off to graze.

Dillon stepped deeper into the cool water and rinsed his arms and face. As the water dripped from his chin and carried away the filth, his attention was caught by the flame-like black streaks that would remain forever on his forearm. He traced the longest lick of flame with his fingertips, thinking of his goal. Maizus would pay not only for the pain brought on Dillon, but on every citizen of Reun.

"They seem a part of you, now." Arabella's voice nearly startled Dillon as she walked along the bank. Her silvery hair fell in loose wet curls about her shoulders, bare above a makeshift towel.

Dillon glanced up at her briefly as he straightened, then back to the strange black markings. "Maizus likely thinks I'm dead," he mused. "And were it not for you..." His eyes moved up to meet Arabella's once more. "I would be."

In the seconds that Dillon had looked away, Arabella had donned once more her traveling clothes and cloak, both clean and dry by a power Dillon would never quite understand. She smiled slightly as she moved to stroke Amadae's neck. "It's better for us, then, that he does. Let the rumors reach him first, once you have become powerful."

Gerard came from amidst the trees with a great green smile. His color had faded over the course of their journey, but being back with plant life seemed to have restored it immediately. "The plants here are very happy, great Miss Arabella. They say there are few travelers now, but the water is good. They knew nothing of the upcoming war, but they are happy to help as best they can. They won't mind us staying here."

Arabella nodded. "Good. Thank you, Gerard. Thank them for me, too, won't you?"

Gerard bobbed his slightly oversized head in assent.

Dillon pulled his cloak from his saddle, which was resting in the grass. He glanced at Arabella briefly as he removed his tunic and went towards the water to wash his both garments. "Gielkern castle is in the city of Harrick. It should be a three day journey each way."

Arabella stopped Dillon as he reached the water, extending a hand. "Here, let me."

Dillon watched her for a moment, then handed over his cloak and tunic. Arabella dipped both in the water, and when she shook them out, each was immaculate as well as completely dry. Dillon accepted them back with brief thanks, to which Arabella replied with a smile.

"Gerard and I will not be going with you to Gielkern," she stated as he slid into his shirt. "I have work to do here before you get back."

Dillon straightened, leaving the laced neck of the tunic open against his chest, as usual, and gave her a quizzical look. "What have you to do, here?"

Arabella only gave a mysterious smile. "I promised I would create a landmark no one crossing the desert would miss, and I intend to make good on that promise."

Dillon watched her for a moment; she never ceased to amaze him. Finally, he nodded. "All right, if you feel you must." He felt slightly uneasy at leaving such a beautiful woman unprotected in the middle of the desert, but something about this particular woman seemed more dangerous than any bandit could ever be.

Arabella nodded gracefully and turned to Gerard. "Would you please gather some food for Prince Dillon?"

Gerard nodded again. "Not too far down the bank there are some very tasty berries. They said so themselves."

Arabella thanked the miniscule man, who disappeared to collect the mentioned berries. Then she turned to Dillon. "Would you prefer to start out tonight, or wait 'till morning?"

Dillon considered his options as he watched Perisseus graze. "I think I'll sleep here and leave tomorrow morning. Perisseus deserves a break."

Arabella smiled. "Yes, he certainly does. And so do you."

Dillon's Story 3

Dillon spread the map out on the table. Arabella was seated to the side, but Dillon preffered to stand. "The castle is here." He pointed to a place in the center of Reun. "Gielkern is here," his finger slid across Reun to the East. "A desert lies between the two kingdoms which is nearly uninhabited. There's an oasis just towards the Gielkern side of the desert. I think I ought to start there."

Arabella surveyed the map quietly and nodded. "We."

Dillon blinked and looked up from the map. "What?"

"We. That's where /we/ should start. And I agree. We should establish someplace people know they can come to join our cause. Somewhere that cannot be missed."

Dillon frowned. "It's a desert. What could possibly not be missed?"

A smile toyed with the corners of Arabella's mouth. "Let me worry about that. The desert is the ideal place to raise an army. Not only is it between Reun and Gielkern so that we can take the defensive, but we can secure the resources for our troops. An army without water is hardly an army at all."

Dillon stared at that peaceful, beautiful face. Her soft, mysterious voice gave an air of power to the plan. After a moment, he nodded and rolled up the map. "It's settled, then. The heart of the desert is at least a week's journey for me alone. We should plan on two."

Arabella raised a thin, pale eyebrow. "What makes you think I will slow you down?"

Dillon looked up at her, caught off guard. "Well, I--"

"I am no ordinary woman, Prince of Reun. I do not need to be cared for like the royal women you're used to. I can travel just as you would alone."

Dillon studied her for a moment, but her eyes were unflinching. Finally, he resented with a stark nod. "Fine. We'll plan on seven days' journey, then. We can stop in Iyms for supplies on our way out. Whenever you're ready, of course."

Arabella smiled subtly as she stood. "We may as well start right away."

"HELP! HEEEELP!" Gerard's voice came floating in the window.

Arabella's head turned towards the sound. A moment later she was running through the door with Dillon close behind her. The white mare was bridled and tied to a convenient loop in a root on the house's wall. One ear swiveled towards Arabella and Dillon as they erupted from the house, but she remained content to chew a large mouthful of grass.

"Over here! Help!"

Arabella took off through the trees, and Dillon found himself surprised by how fleet she was. She reached the clearing just a moment before Dillon, and stopped.

Gerard had somehow managed to bridle the black horse's large head, but there his success seemed to have stopped. Perisseus looked as though he was enjoying himself far too well: every time the horse chose another patch of grass to eat from, the small green man got yanked right off his feet and dragged as long as Perisseus chose. As they watched, Gerard climbed to his feet and threw his weight against the reins, trying to pull the horse towards tehm.

"He just won't come, Sir!" Gerard's head could have been used as a battering ram, so steep was the angle at which he was trying to pull.

The corner of Dillon's mouth twitched and he clicked his tongue. Perisseus' head came flying up, his ears erect, and sent Gerard sailing backwards, where he bumped to a stop against a tree. Perisseus came trotting towards Dillon, and Gerard had wisely let go of the reins upon landing.

Dillon rubbed Perisseus' face as Gerard stood and brushed himself off.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I did my best."

Dillon shook his head. "Perisseus can be stubborn, and enjoys taking advantage of his size. To be honest, I'm impressed you got him caught at all."

Gerard groaned as he walked to Arabella's side. "It wasn't easy. But that mare, she came all nice and quietlike, sweet like you, pretty Miss Arabella." He beamed up at her. "Have you thought of a name for her yet?"

Arabella laughed and began walking back towards where the mare was tethered. "No, I haven't. Why don't you name her for me, Gerard?"

Gerard walked at her side while Dillon and Perisseus followed. The short man's eyes grew wide. "Me? Generous Miss Arabella! What an honor. I'll try to live up to your expectations!"

Dillon rolled his eyes, but tugged Perisseus' head back as he tried to take a bite out of Gerard's shoulder.

Arabella glanced back over her shoulder with a wry smile as though she knew what Dillon had just done. "I'm sure you will, Gerard. Would you be so kind as to go fetch our packs while we saddle the horses?"

Gerard bobbed his oversized head and disappeared inside the house.

Dillon tied Perisseus near the white mare and turned towards the saddles. Arabella leaned to pick up the comfortable blue saddle, but Dillon put out an arm to stop her. "Let me."

"Thank you, but I can manage." She offered a small smile and continued.

Dillon raised an eyebrow and set a strong hand on her arm. "I'll do it."

Arabella straightened, looking into Dillon's eyes for but a moment before she nodded and took a step back. "As you wish, my Prince."

Dillon easily hefted the saddle onto the mare's back. "There. That wasn't so difficult, was it?" He cinched it up before moving on to Perisseus' saddle.

Gerard came from the house looking as though he'd been attacked by a large hairless bear. His face was buried somewhere among the large bags of food he carried. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a muffled mumble.

Arabella smiled and went to help unload the bags. "Thank you, Gerard." She tied half of them to her saddle as Dillon took the rest from Gerard to tie to his.

Gerard smiled with relief. "Thank you, sweet Miss Arabella. That's an awful lot of food for an awful short me."

Arabella untied her mount before climbing into the saddle. As she settled in she reached for Gerard's hand, and the half-nymph swung up behind her.

Dillon glanced up at the two as he finished tying the bags to Perisseus' saddle. "I'll lead out. We'll head for Iyms first, but I'd like to get a few hours in before nightfall." He mounted the horse with practiced ease and guided him away from the tree. He glanced over their small party, then urged Perisseus into a brisk trot towards Iyms.

Clinging to his mistress' saddle, Gerard looked back at the tree that had served them so well. "Good bye, great one, and thank you. You've been a most wonderful house!"

Dillon glanced back over his shoulder. It was only a moment before the trees blocked his view of the house, but he could have sworn he saw the giant tree's roots closing around the door and the window of the small house and settling back against the ground.

--~~*^*~~--
The sun was just beginning to win the fight against the cold night air and replace it with warm rays as Dillon's party left Iyms well behind. They were heading almost directly towards the life-giving light. Gerard looked by far to be the happiest of the bunch; he had a great green grin on his face and seemed to be humming inaudibly, bouncing his head back and forth as they rode along. Perisseus and Dillon were in the lead, but the lithe white mare was not far behind.

"Have you decided on a name yet, Gerard?" Arabella inquired in that soft voice that seemed to make the morning that much more beautiful.

Gerard stopped bobbing his head to think for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, I have. It's a lovely name, I should think."

"And what is it?"

Dillon listened, though completely content to remain silent.

The half-nymph smiled. "The name I have chosen for this fine horse is Amadae."

Arabella tried the name quietly on her tongue and then smiled, glancing back over her shoulder at her short friend. "That is a beautiful name. What made you choose that?"

Gerard's smile grew until it very nearly reached his grass-tinged ears. "It is a Nymph word which I thought fit the situation."

Looking forward once more, Arabella inquired after the meaning.

"It has no direct translation into the common tongue, but in effect, it means 'uhm.'"

Dillon had to turn around and glance back to make sure he had not imagined Gerard's words. When he had assured himself he was not dreaming, Dillon turned back around with a smirk.

Arabella paused for a moment, and then chuckled softly. "I'm glad to have you along, Gerard. You certainly never leave me bored."

Dillon rolled his eyes. "Just take care that you don't tire of one another. We're in for a long ride yet."

Dillon's Story 2

Dillon woke again as the first rays of morning sun broke through the treetops and stole in the open window to assault his face. He could hear birds conversing in the distance as he sat up and looked around. Arabella was absent, but the green man toddled right over with a plate of fresh fruit and bread when he saw Dillon awake.

"Kind Miss Arabella told me to give this to you, she did. Oh, and the berry bush said to tell you she hopes you can stop the war. Many of her sisters were trampled to death by the army." His bony hands offered Dillon the plate, and one glance at it made Dillon realize how famished he was.

"Thank you, Gerard, is it?"

The skinny man nodded with a great grin that made the pointiness of his chin stand out. With every knuckle, joint, and bone appearing unusually knobbly, Gerard looked as though his entire person could have been carved of wood.

Dillon looked the half-nymph over as he ate. "So... the plants talk to you."

Gerard bobbed his head like an acorn on a river. "Yes, but what kind of a person would I be if I didn't talk back?"

Dillon raised an eyebrow and chose not to answer, though Gerard looked completely as though he expected one. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Oh, not long. Two or three days is all."

Dillon scoffed. "Not long, two or three days?"

Gerard nodded and looked at Dillon as though Dillon were sprouting roots. Then he blinked and laughed. "Forgive me, Sir. I forgot for a moment that time is much more precious to humans than plants. How silly of me! After all, when one has centuries two or three days is just a moment."

Dillon was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable in the presence of only a short green man, and finished off his meal in a hurry. He stood with a stretch, trying his legs. "Where is Arabella?"

"Sweet Miss Arabella is tending to your horse, I believe. She said she wanted to get some fresh air, although I don't understand why the air there is any fresher than the air here." He looked quite puzzled for a moment, but then gave it up with another great smile. "Nevermind. Dearest Miss Arabella knows best."

Dillon picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head, noting that not only had the blood been cleaned but that it was quite soft and smelled faintly of lavender. "Thank you for the food. I think I shall go and find her myself."

He walked to the other side of the room and picked up his sword, fastening the belt around his waist before he walked out the door. Having his sword at his side had become more for his own comfort than for protection.

Dillon took a deep breath as he exited the little house and looked around. They were at the top of a forested hillock. There were plenteous meadows between the trees, and Dillon could see the road at the bottom of the hill, and a village in the distance. He turned around to gaze up at the towering tree whose roots formed Arabella and Gerard's home. The morning sun made the air feel light and carefree. The edges of the leaves had just begun to turn orange and yellow, signalling the end of another beautiful summer.

Dillon felt almost peaceful as he let out a low wistle. A moment later Perisseus' anxious nicker replied, and Dillon set off toward it through the trees. He didn't have to go far before he emerged in a clearing where Perisseus and Arabella were waiting. Arabella seemed almost too bright to gaze at as she stood beside the infinite blackn of Dillon's trusted warhorse. Her lithe hand held Perisseus' bridle, though his saddle leaned against a tree. She smiled when she saw Dillon, and let go of Perisseus' rein so the animal could approach its master.

"You're feeling better, I presume." Arabella's voice sounded just as beautiful as Dillon remembered, though for a moment he had thought her a dream.

Dillon nodded as he rubbed Perisseus' soft muzzle. "Yes, much." He ran his fingers through his horse's forelock, tugging out the knots. After Perisseus felt he had paid his dues, he turned to resume cropping the sweet grass. Dillon cracked a small, bitter smile. "He seems to like it here."

"He likes it much better having seen you alive and well. I've never seen such a loyal creature, save Gerard." Arabella walked forward to stand at Dillon's side.

Dillon nodded vaguely. "We've been through much together. I've raised him since he was only a week old, his mother killed in battle."

Arabella looked up at the rough-hewn exiled prince. "And what of your mother, Prince of Reun?"

Dillon remained silent for a moment, and then shrugged. "I don't remember her. She died when I was still very young.... Perhaps that's why Perisseus and I have such a bond."

"Perhaps.... But you are not an orphan. You still have a living father to speak of."

Dillon snorted and rolled his eyes in disgust. "He's hardly a father. A father so weak he's being controlled but doesn't even know it. A father who's sending thousands of men to their death, robbing thousands of children of their fathers. Maizus will scrounge up what power he can gather, but when spring comes, he plans to lay waste to Gielkern. Gielkern's armies are stronger than any others, but they will not expect an attack from such a close ally as Reun."

Arabella pursed her lips and watched the large stallion as he grazed. "What will you do now, then? Maybe you cannot stop him."

Dillon narrowed his eyes, the tense muscles in his face evidence of his determination. "I will raise an army of my own. Outlaws: thieves and murderers if I have to. But I believe there are many of the people of Reun who will fight with me to regain control of our kingdom. I just have to get to them before Maizus does."

Arabella laughed bitterly. "Then you are a fool. What chance has a tattered army against Maizus and his magic? You will all be slaughtered."

Dillon gave her a sharp look, and shot a question back at her. "And when did you become so heartless? The stories the villagers brought were of a kind woman, full of sympathy and willing to help. I see none like that here."

Arabella's brows knit as she glanced up at Dillon, but her gaze quickly fell to the forest floor and she turned away. His words cut her to the core. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "When Maizus took all that I held dear."

When he saw the look in Arabella's eyes, Dillon felt a twinge of remorse at his accusation. He took a deep breath and gazed through the trees as he let it out. "Many more will have their families ripped to shreds before Maizus is through. If I must die in the attempt to stop him, so be it. At least I will be free of the thousands of souls that will suffocate my concience if I don't try." Dillon turned to walk back to the house beneath the tree, leaving Arabella in the silence of her thoughts.

Why, when she had been perfectly content to let the world kill itself, had fate brought the Prince of Reun here to thrust her back into the middle of it? With a soft groan, Arabella sank down to lay against the trunk of a tree. She pressed her hands to her face as if to force the tears back in, and let out a shaky breath.

"Oh, Mother," she whispered. "Help me know what to do." She let her hands fall into her lap, and felt the breeze caress her face, drying her tears. She opened her eyes to look towards the patches of sky visible through the trees, and let the wind carry away her worries.

What would her mother do, if she were here? What would her mother say? Arabella squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture her mother's face. That kind face. That beautiful face.

Something rubbing against Arabella's head made her jump, her eyes opening with a start. But Perisseus was even more startled than she was. He tossed his head back, some of her hair caught on his lip. Arabella laughed softly and reached up to stroke the horse's cheek as he lowered his large head once more. That was the answer.

--~~*^*~~--
"But Sir, you're not leaving now, I hope? It's only been a few days, you're not all well yet!" Despite his own voice, Gerard was busy filling Dillon's pack with all sorts of healthy food.

Dillon sighed as he sat in the living wicker chair, sharpening and polishing his sword. "I need all the time I can to gather forces against Maizus. If Arabella will not help me, then my time here is of little use."

"Maybe sweet Miss Arabella just needs some time, Sir. Some convincing, while you're gathering your strength?"

Dillon opened his mouth to protest just as Arabella walked through the door. Gerard looked up and quickly abandoned his task, running to her side.

"Dear Miss Arabella, tell him he ought not to go yet! He still lacks strength, don't you think?"

Arabella looked from the small green man to the prince. She thought for a moment before speaking. "No, he shouldn't leave yet...."

Dillon frowned as he watched her, his brow furrowing.

"But it has little to do with his health. Prince Dillon should plan his strategy and what he'll do next before he runs off to gather more power."

Dillon snorted and returned to running the rough stone along his blade. "What does it matter to you?"

"If I am going to fight for a cause, I will not have it be in rashness."

His hand stopped midstroke and Dillon looked up once more. He studied her face: her eyes were set like a falcon's before a making a fatal strike. He could see the solemnity of her decision, and felt the flame of purpose flare as he rose to his feet. "You'll help me, then?"

Arabella offered a hint of a daring smile and nodded. "Yes. I will help you reclaim your throne, Prince of Reun. I will help you so I can make sure Maizus hurts no more the way he has hurt me."

Gerard stepped between the two. "Should I prepare three packs, then?"

Arabella looked down at Gerard. "You don't have to come, Gerard. I know you're happy here."

Gerard shook his green head. "I am happiest where you are, loving Miss Arabella."

Arabella smiled and nodded. "Three packs, then, Gerard."

Gerard beamed and bobbed his head, scurrying off to load all the food he could into satchels.

Dillon sheathed his sword. "The village down the hill. Which is it?" He started towards the door as he waited for an answer.

"Iyms, but why?" Arabella stepped out of his way, watching him.

"Just wait here. I won't be long, and then we can make our plan." Without another word he strode off through the trees.

--~~*^*~~--
True to his word, Dillon returned less than three hours later. As Arabella helped Gerard to pack what little they had, she heard Perisseus' heavy footfalls outside the house. Leaving Gerard at his work, she went out to meet Dillon. Just as she crossed the threshold, the great black horse came into view, Dillon upon his back. But a moment later the head of another horse materialized behind him.

Dillon pulled Perisseus to a stop near Arabella and slid off the horse. From the back of Perisseus' saddle he untied the lead of a beautiful white horse. Perisseus made the new horse look slim and fragile; a horse built for speed and agility, not for battle. Upon the horse's back was a comfortable saddle covered in pale blue velvet, fit for a queen.

Arabella reached out to stroke the horse's face as Dillon led it to her. "How did you get it?"

Dillon stepped back to admire the horse as well. "From a friend. Do you like her? She reminded me of you, somehow. I thought you should have her."

Arabella looked up at Dillon. "Me? But why? I cannot pay you for her."

Dillon scoffed. "I don't need to be repaid. Consider it a gift in return for my life. Besides, you'll need a way to travel." He dropped the horse's lead and began untacking both horses, setting the contrasting saddles against the root wall of the house.

Arabella pursed her lips as she watched the rightful prince of Reun fondly care for the two beasts. When he was finished, Perisseus led the way to a nearby clearing, his wavy tail flicking flies from his flank. The white mare followed. Dillon hung the bridles on a sufficient knot in the wood and straightened.

"Well," Arabella began softly. As Dillon turned to her, their eyes met. "Thank you, Prince of Reun."

Dillon gazed unflinchingly into her eyes for a brief moment before responding. "It's Dillon. And you're welcome, Healer of the Forest." The corner of his lips twitched, and Arabella thought he might smile. "Now, let's get to that plan you're so keen on, shall we?"

Any trace of a smile left as he turned and entered the small house once more. Brushing at the faint pink glow she could feel at her cheeks, Arabella followed him.

Dillon's Story 1

First of all, this is a rough draft. Second, I have not yet divided things into chapters, so what I put up is just what I put up. Third and last, I really don't need brutal criticism. Constructive criticism is welcome if accompanied by praise. Thanks! :-D

---

Blood and burnt flesh plastered Dillon's arm to his black tunic. He sat hunched over, his last ounce of strength devoted to remaining more or less upright; the reins hung loose around the neck of Perisseus, the only living being he trusted. The black horse snorted and his breath formed cones of billowing steam against the chill of the night. The quick, even hoofbeats filled the air and belied the anxiety Dillon's wound had instilled in his mount.

From the tips of his fingers reaching across the length of his right forearm, no fleshtone could be seen. It was now a twisted mess of blood and charred skin, leaving what flesh was left clinging to muscle and bone pitifully against the tide of lifeblood. Dillon could feel the fire's poison spreading from his mangled arm: carving through his shoulder; seizing up his neck; pounding through his skull. Silent and deadly it crept in, with a penetrating blackness to obliterate any night to swallow his vision. He felt his body give in to the agony as his strength deserted him. At last, the blackness stole his consciousness.

--~~*^*~~--
He strained to get out of the dark prison. He beat his fists viciously against the thick walls, but every blow only caused him further agony. As his dungeon lightened he began to realize that he was only a captive of his own pain-racked body. The pounding in his head wouldn't stop, and the light seared his very soul through his eyelids. He'd never thought that being dead would be painful. But then, being dead didn't generally involve light, either. At least, not to his knowledge.

Though the light burned like lightning through his head, Dillon tried to open his eyes. His chest tightened and was surprised not only to feel as though he was breathing, but to hear himself emit a groan. Perhaps the grave wasn't so silent, after all. He gave up on opening his eyes against the onslaught of light, and let out a stale breath. The sound of movement nearby made the breath stick in his throat.

"Gerard, close the window, please."

It was a woman's voice; soft and sweet, smooth as the blade of a sword and comforting as the contented coo of a dove.

The shutters were pulled closed with a squeak that bounced around Dillon's head like a dog after table scraps, but the light faded. He opened his eyes slowly, already grateful to the woman who had ordered the burning light away. Perhaps she was an angel.

Dillon's eyes were drawn right to the face of the speaker, a face even more beautiful than the voice. The pale of her skin was only outdone by the near silvery sheen of her long hair that fell in loose curls past her shoulders. Even her skin seemed to have a metallic shine, or at least an angelic glow. Her features were fine: her eyes, dark.

"Am I dead, then?" Dillon had never noticed how rough his own voice sounded until he heard it beside hers.

The angel smiled. "Not quite. You're lucky Gerard found you when he did." She stood to fill a wooden cup with what appeared to be water. "And perhaps, luckier still that I chose to aid you: your sword bears the royal crest. So either you stole it..." She turned to eye him curiously. "Or you are the prince."

"What is it to you, either way?" Dillon gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbows, where he was met by a battering ram that sent his head spinning. His arms gave out and he fell back; the woman was at his side in an instant.

"Careful, I should think you'll be dizzy for a while yet. Here, drink this. It will help." A slender white hand helped lift Dillon's head as the other pressed the cup to his lips.

The liquid was slightly bitter, but very cold. Dillon drank every drop, and the woman lay his head down once more. The bitterness of the brew seemed to go straight to his head, stilling the whirlpool within his head and bringing everything into focus as though cleaning cobwebs from his brain. The dizziness subsided and Dillon was finally able to look around.

It was a small house, if one could call it such: a single room with a floor of earth. The abode was round, but that was not half as odd as what it seemed to be made from. Though made entirely of wood, the only thing that seemed to have been carved or chopped were the shutters on the only small window. Like the matted tangle of a dog's coat, thick peices of wood seemed to come together from every angle to make up the walls. They parted conveniently for a doorway, and happened to overlook the hole that served as the window. All the strands became one towards the ceiling, which was solid. It appeared that a very large tree had simply grown up around the living space, and the roots had obliged to make it habitable. Even the small bed on which Dillon lay was only woody roots covered with a thin straw mattress.

Dillon saw his sword leaning between two roots of the wall not far from his cot. His shirt hung across the back of a chair made of many thin branches that seemed to be still living: its thriving green leaves nearly matched the green of the young wood itself. The silver-haired woman returned from putting the cup on the chair's matching table and sat, facing Dillon.

"What of my horse, Perisseus?" Dillon inquired.

"The fine beast is eating his fill of grass in the meadow. But don't worry, the grasses said they didn't mind." That was when Dillon saw the small green man who had been standing hidden behind the folds of the woman's long flowing dress.

Dillon frowned and sat up slightly. "What is that?"

Dillon's frown deepened as he watched the creature warily. The woman, however, only smiled. "Gerard is half human, half wood nymph, and completely ridiculous, but quite entertaining. Because of his... rather unique race, he was accepted neither by wood nymphs or humans." Her smile faded and her expression turned cold. "Of course, there are few wood nymphs now. Not in this kingdom. Maizus and his puppet Willian have seen to that."

The stickly man held up a long, bony finger. "I prefer to be called a who, sir. Although I suppose men don't come in my color where you are from. Blue and orange, are they? Yellow, perhaps? Oh, I would so love to meet a purple fellow!"

Dillon seemed to bristle at the statement, but remained silent. Watching him closely, the woman continued.

"Which brings us to you. You appear with the royal crest on your hilt and a would-be fatal hellfire wound no your arm. Only a mage can cast hellfire, and Maizus has had all but himself banished. Did he do this to you?"

Ignoring the question, Dillon held up his arm to examine it. The flesh was whole and unscathed save black marks like an ink fire running up his arm. "Only magic can heal magic... Yet, here I am." He raised quizzical eyes to her.

The woman pursed her lips, meeting his gaze with just as much intrigue. The thoughts tumbled around in her head: Yes, he bore the royal crest. But whether thief or noble, a hellfire wound that severe meant he was no friend of Maizus. Finally she conceded, breaking the silence.

"Yes, it was I who healed you. My name is Arabella, and I, like all despised by the crown, have been banished from Willian's kingdom."

Bringing himself from obscurity, Gerard clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. Arabella only looked to Dillon once more.

"So now you know who I am. Who are you?"

Dillon's eyes were sparked with a new interest. "It's you, then... You're the one."

Arabella scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, it is you. Villagers came to the castle bringing stories of a woman who would heal any brought before her. Maizus became distraught. Not long afterwards, my father ordered her and all other magi killed or banished."

Arabella stood abruptly, and Gerard stepped forward as if to protect her, wielding his knobbly fingers as so many swords.

"Your father?" Her voice was nothing but accusing and disgusted, but Dillon thought he saw a flicker of fear in those dark eyes.

"Yes. My father, King Willian. I am Dillon, Prince of Reun and heir to Willian's throne... as long as I'm alive."

"What are you doing here, then? And what of that wound?" She glanced around with caution. "Is it a trap?"

Dillon snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course it is; I put my neck on the block just to see if I could wander somewhere you could find and heal me. No!"

Arabella narrowed her eyes, and as Dillon caught the glare from the corner of his gaze he let out a breath and pursed his lips.

"I'm... sorry." He forced it out like it was eating a moldy piece of bread. "No. I'm not quite so blind and the people seem to think: I've seen what Maizus has been up to. My father has become just... a puppet, as you say." His strong jaw shifted back and forth as he ground his teeth in anger. "Maizus is leading us to war against those who are our allies simply for the sake of gaining power.

"I'd had enough. I confronted Willian, but Maizus' power is far too strong for any unsuspecting man. Finally I went right to the source. Maizus became angry and tried to kill me himself. When I escaped, he sent the guards after me, claiming I had been possessed of some devil. So I left... and here I am." He watched as he flexed his fingers, remembering the horrific pain he had been in not so very long ago.

Arabella pursed her thin lips and looked away. She may as well have been trying to burn a hole through the heart of the king's mage with her gaze. "I never threatened him, and yet he wanted to be rid of me. He brought soldiers, vile men on horseback, and hunted me down. He found my home. He took my mother captive, and threatened to kill her if I did not come home... Of course, I had to go. But as soon as they had me in chains... he killed her. I'll never forget the evil look in his eyes as he burned her right in front of me, never forget her scream."

A moment of silence put the tears glimmering at the roots of those pale lashes into sharp relief. Suddenly she turned on Dillon. "And you did nothing! Nothing, while he slaughtered anyone he pleased! Nothing!" She spun her back to him as she brushed at a stray tear. She walked silently to the closed window, as Gerard followed, petting at the folds of her dress in an attempt to console.

Dillon stood carefully, his hand on the rough wall to steady himself. "And what should I have done? You know better than I the extent of Maizus' power. It was only chance I escaped his wrath with my lief. But you... you can do something now. How did you escape?"

Arabella drew a long breath. "I don't know, completely. I was so angry, in so much pain after he murdered my mother. I remember an explosion of energy, and then I remember running through the forest. I met Gerard, and we've lived here ever since."

Dillon watched her. "Arabella, Maizus is afraid of you. He fears that you may be more powerful than he."

She scoffed and turned to face him once more. "Maizus is the most powerful mage in existance. They say he's lived for centuries."

Dillon shook his head. "Don't you see? If he did not feel threatened he would never have come to find you himself. The others he merely sends troops after. But you, he led the force himself. And what's more, you escaped!" The spark in his eye had become a blazing inferno. "He was right there, and you escaped his grasp."

Arabella sighed and gestured towards the bed. "You ought to lay down. It will be a few days at the least until you regain your strength completely."

Dillon stared at her for a moment before he consented, slowly moving back towards the humble bed. "Perhaps it's not coincidence I ended up in your care. With you and your power at my side, we could defeat Maizus and regain the kingdom. Reun needs you, Arabella."

Arabella shook her head. "I cannot help you. My life was all about helping people, once. The fool I was for it; it cost me my mother."

"But-"

"Shhh..." Arabella sat lightly on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Dillon's bare chest. Dillon noticed how cool and soothing her fingertips felt as she pushed him down onto the bed.

"Rest now, Prince of Reun," she whispered, and as she waved her hand over Dillon's face, his eyes closed and he fell asleep whether it was his will or not.