Please note: All names that begin with a 'c' take the pronunciation of a 'k', and most of the names have the accent on the first syllable, unless it sounds strange. (Examples: Celedan = KELL-uh-dan; Cerion = KEER-i-on Aleara = a-LEER-ah)

"Celedan, son of Cerion, by the decree of His Majesty, Faldric King, you are under arrest. Surrender now, or die." The duke's voice echoed in the halls of the castle, followed immediately by the clang of a dozen swords being drawn.

An hour before, Celedan had stood before the young king at his coronation, as a member of the Royal Guard. He was still fully armed from the ceremony, but unwilling to draw his sword against fellow kingsmen.

"Laradon, what--" he said, then stopped, for he knew exactly what the duke was doing. Deep down, he had been expecting this all along. Laradon ordered his men forward, and while they were just as reluctant to advance on one of their own as Celedan was, they obeyed. Celedan turned and ran.

He calculated his odds against a dozen Guards and did not like the result, but to surrender would mean death. He ran through the open doors of the great hall, and leapt the stairs down to the open air of the castle�s central courtyard. Still running, but with direction. His armor, a ceremonial and impractical combination of chain and plate mail, was heavy on his body; his broadsword, slung over his shoulder, pounded his back. All of this mattered little to Celedan; he concentrated and counted the footfalls of the men pursuing him. Only two were close--their armor was as heavy as his own. "Good."

As the knight drew closer to the keep, he saw two other Guardsmen keeping post outside the door he sought. Perhaps he had underestimated Laradon�s wit. He turned left, now sprinting toward the royal Treasury. The entrance came into view, and he wondered at the lack of soldiers keeping watch at the gate. The "treasury" was in actuality a museum, displaying trophies of conquest more sentimental than valuable. Celedan recalled the layout: the first room was a maze of armor displays, and the Guard believed he could lose his two determined pursuers, and buy enough time to plan an escape, in there.

He pulled the door open, and heard Laradon repeat his order to surrender. Instead, Celedan plunged into the darkness of the Treasury, and tripped over an unseen shape. He crashed to the floor, half on top of a human form.

"Get off!" hissed the figure, and with a quick move pushed the armor-clad knight off its body. Celedan struggled to see the figure, but it was completely black and withdrew instantaneously into the shadows.

The silhouettes of a pair of men filled the doorway, blocking the wide beam of sunlight falling on the Guard. "Sir Celedan," said one of them, and before he could react, Celedan saw a flickering of silver light at the corner of his vision. A fine-bladed dagger appeared in the chests of each of the young men, as if by magic, and they fell backward with muted strangling sounds.

The cloaked figure darted forward and pulled its throwing knives from the bodies of the Guards. "Laradon's men...," said the shape, with the same whisper, and turned its head towards Celedan. "Come with me. Now." Celedan could barely react before he was grabbed around the wrist by the form's small hand. He stumbled to his feet and fled into the depths of the museum, following his apparent savior. The shape guided him through twisting corridors, moving swiftly and silently. In a moment, they came to a circular room with a window high above the floor, a window with a slender rope running down to the floor. "The rope--" said the shape, and then removed its mask. Celedan was astonished to see a woman's face framed by raven-black hair. "The rope will hold you. Don�t stand there gaping like a fool! I'll explain later." The insult snapped Celedan back to attention, and he climbed the frail-looking rope as quickly as his armored bulk would allow. The woman was right behind him. Reaching the window, Celedan looked down twenty-five feet and saw nothing but shrubbery below him, and nearby the trees of the forest ringing the castle. "Move, gods damn you!" came from behind him, and a hand on his foot pushed him over the small ledge. His instinct took over, and he rolled upon impact, letting his plated shoulder and the bushes absorb the force of the fall. His new companion dropped lightly to the ground behind him.

"Come," said the mysterious woman, "follow me into the forest." The soldier leapt to his feet and began to run once more.

"Hey," he said, now breathing harshly, "where are we going?"

The woman didn't answer him. The pair was almost to the forest's boundary when they heard the alarums of the castle erupt. As if at an unspoken command, they both picked up speed, now struggling through the ground cover and slender trunks of young trees. They were into the depths of the wood in a moment, and Celedan heard the baying of hounds. "Stop!" he ordered. "Laradon has the King�s hounds on our trail; there�s no way we can outrun them."

The woman stared at him for a moment, incredulous. "Then what do you expect we do? He�s not going to let you get away...believe me, I know."

Celedan took a moment to look around and study his surroundings. "Follow me," he said, and strode eastward. He came to some dense undergrowth a few feet tall. "Here," he said, "climb through this brush, and get down." The woman followed his direction, and after a moment, he joined her. The dogs were louder now, but Celedan figured that they had only begun to sniff through the trees at the edge of the forest. "Now, silence." He drew his sword with his right hand, and plunged the blade straight into the soft earth. He knelt down, leaning his head lightly on the hilts.

"What do you think--"

"Quiet!" Celedan hissed. He closed his eyes and began to chant under his breath, his lips barely moving.

The woman had not noticed the decoration on his sword; there were bands of small, transparent jewels running across the pommel, and as she watched, they began to glow green. The hounds' barking grew steadily louder, and now she could hear the voices of the hunters, shouting orders to each other. The were still too far away to be seen, at least. Nervously, she glanced at the warrior. As she did, he pulled his sword from the ground and stared at her with piercing grey eyes. He crouched down as low as possible, and signaled with one hand to do the same. He put a finger to his lips. A silent command: Get down. Be quiet.

The dogs were on them--Celedan could hear them sniffing him out. The eyes of the woman next to him were filled with panic, but he willed her to remain still, which she did. He heard human voices, talking to the dogs and amidst themselves. After a few seconds, the hounds turned to the right and ran, barking for all they were worth. The soldiers followed. The forest echoed with the noise, but it gradually diminished. After a while, his partner looked up.

"What happened?" she asked in a barely audible whisper.

Celedan sat up. "Green magic," he replied with a slight smile. "I am Celedan, son of Cerion. What�s your name?" He held out his right hand.

The woman looked at him with an air of suspicion, then met his hand with her own. "I'm Aleara."

"Aleara," repeated Celedan. "So, where do we go from here? I'm not exactly welcome in the castle."

They walked, Aleara leading the way. They spoke little, but Celedan learned that she was a thief by necessity rather than choice, and lived in a clearing in these woods. He walked behind her, holding his sword loosely, behind his head and across his shoulders. He could see belted to the waist of his new companion half a dozen slender throwing knives, the weapons she had used with deadly accuracy on his pursuers. He did not speak of himself, and resolved that he would not unless she asked him.

After half an hour, by the movement of the sun above the trees, the pair arrived at a small glade, with a hollow tree at one end. The tree was a giant, old and dead; its lifeless trunk stretched above the canopy formed by the neighboring trees. "Welcome to my home," said Aleara, nodding towards the tree. "I�ve never brought anyone here before, but if you are on the run from Laradon, you are more than welcome."

For the first time, Celedan really looked at her: She was of medium height, with an athletic build well-suited to her profession. Her black hair hung to her shoulders, and her eyes were dark, nearly the same raven color. She was beautiful. He became slightly self-conscious of his own appearance, for his armor was dirty, and his blond hair, clipped short in the fashion of the Guard, was full of dirt from the afternoon's adventure. He quickly realized how ridiculous he was being, and he was not the only one; Aleara studied his face for a moment, then threw back her head in laughter. "Sorry, soldier boy," she said, "I'm not interested. Look, have a seat somewhere. I'll be back in an hour."

"Where are you going?"

"To get dinner. I don't have servants waiting on me."

Aleara was gone longer than an hour, but Celedan took the time to acquaint himself with the surroundings. He found a hill and climbed it, to get a view of their position with respect to the castle. The pennants were waving on the towers of Taurlin Castle, and behind it stretched the lake for which it was named. Apparently, his hunters had given up, at least for the day--the drawbridge was shut, which was unusual, for there was still much light in the sky. He returned to Aleara's dwelling, and sat on one of the fallen logs adjacent to the ring of blackened stones used as a firepit. He removed his plate and chain armor, lost in thought.

He was startled a few moments later when Aleara appeared suddenly from behind a thicket, and upon realizing that it was her, pulled back the hand that had involuntarily reached for the sword by his side. Aleara was carrying a pair of small rabbits, the results of her hunting, one of which she dropped at his feet. "Do you know how to clean one of those, soldier boy?"

"My father taught me, long ago. But I need a knife." Without a word, Aleara took one of the knives from her belt and handed it to him. Celedan glanced at the delicate-looking blade, and began to prepare the rabbit for cooking. The pair worked in silence, and Aleara finished hers first--it had been nearly a decade since Celedan had done this particular job. By the time his rabbit was skinned and cleaned, Aleara had a fire going, and he placed the meat on a spit to cook. In a few minutes, the glade began to smell of roasting meat.

After the meal, Aleara looked at Celedan. As she watched, he reached into a small pouch slung on his belt and pulled out a cloth. He unsheathed his sword, and began polishing it. The sunset reflected off the blade, making it looked like a sword forged of fire, rather than steel. She broke the silence between them. "Say something. You've barely spoken since we came here."

"I'll get some more wood," came the reply. Celedan didn't look up from his weapon.

The fire is fine. How did you get us away from those hunters?"

Celedan looked into the fire and frowned, and after a moment looked at Aleara. "Your knife had runes etched into the blade. Do you know what those do?"

"They're magical. They have virtues of accuracy and retrieval, along with a couple of others."

"Runes are a low-grade magic," responded Celedan, "a sort of permanent effect. My sword has them, as well. What I did was more powerful magic, the kind that requires a casting."

"I thought that sort of magic didn't exist."

It does, although not many people understand it. It is divided into types, associated with colors. Green magic works with plants and the like--forest magic. What I did was create a new scent trail, one that the dogs would follow. It�s fairly lightweight, but I don�t know much stronger Green magic. If I were a mage, I would have been able to make trees spring up to cover us as well, and even more powerful effects of which I have only heard rumor. The little magic I know was passed down to me by my father and his friends."

"Your father...who is he?"

"He was Cerion, Captain of the Royal Guardsmen. He was killed ten years ago."

Aleara looked away, and her face clouded over. When she returned his gaze, her eyes were stony. "Captain...and those Guards called you 'Sir'. You are one of them, too, aren�t you?"

"I was, but what�s wrong?"

"The Guard exiled my family from the castle when I was just a girl. Cerion carried out the orders; up until then, he was a friend of our family. My father had nowhere else to go. He found this place," she said, looking at the trees above her head, "and turned to theft to survive. Both he and my mother. They taught me the only way of life they had." Her eyes brimmed with tears, and they looked strange on her stern face. Celedan could see her try to force them back, but one slipped down her cheek. "Six years ago, when I was fourteen, the Guards raided the forest, looking for outlaws, and caught my parents. I was looking for food, and when I returned they were gone. I have been on my own since then. I have tried to find them, to see if they still live, but I have never been able to break into the castle�s dungeon."

Aleara stood and put more wood on the fire. The sun had gone down, leaving only the faintest trails of orange and pink, and a few stars emerged overhead. The spring evenings were still cool, but the fire helped. Celedan sheathed his sword, and laid the scabbard next to him on the log.

"My father," he said, "was only following orders. He would never refuse, no matter how vile they seemed. He was obsessed with honor, and I have been told that I follow in his steps. That's why I could not fight the Guards chasing me." He stared into the fire. "The command of a puppet king is still a command from the king. That's what Faldric is, nothing more than a puppet of Laradon."

"Why was Laradon chasing you?"

Celedan slowly lifted his eyes from the fire, and they settled on hers. He looked like he might speak, but then a look of anguish passed over his face. He stood up. "I can't answer that now. I'll be back." With that, he stepped into the surrounding woods and vanished from the feeble circle of light created by the fire.

Aleara, puzzled, stood up to follow him. She entered the trees and waited for her eyes to grow used to the darkness. The moon, nearly full, cast the forest in a silver light. Celedan, in his cotton clothes rather than the burnished armor was hard to follow, but she made a living out of it. She tracked him to a bald-topped hill. She didn�t know it, but he was returning to where he saw Taurlin Castle in the evening light. He kept his back to her as she approached, and she deliberately broke a branch with her foot to keep from startling him. The castle�s shape was indistinguishable in the blackness, and only the torches of the watchmen and light from a few windows gave away its location. Behind it, the lake, smooth as glass, reflected the pale moon.

She spoke, softly. "I'm sorry if I--"

"Laradon killed my father." Celedan did not turn around, but hung his head. "Cerion was Captain of the Guard, and close to Falnoth, the old king. Falnoth fell ill, and Laradon knew that his will would call for an election and nominate Cerion for the throne. Laradon had his own plans for the King�s son�his young will was weak and easily manipulated. Laradon himself assassinated my father, and with no other choice, Falnoth was forced to turn his kingdom over to his son. No--over to Laradon."

"What about you?"

"I knew what happened, and my suspicions were confirmed when my father�s most trusted man gave me a letter explaining it all. Laradon knew I would take revenge. He thought I would take the throne, but I do not want it, especially if it is bathed in the King�s blood. I simply want Laradon." His gaze returned to the castle. "Tomorrow I return. I will find him."

"No, warrior, you shall not. Do not move against him."

Celedan turned to Aleara, astonished. "What did you say?"

Her eyes were as wide as his. "I said nothing...I thought that was you."