Doing it right...

[DinkyInky]

"Yes, it's cheating, but I don't caaaaare!" Emerauld said waking from her nap refreshed and full of mischief, floating over the crisp white blanket, using the trees to propel her forward.

The trees had done their best to keep it out of the camps, but it simply couldn't feel good on them, so she clearly cheated, drawing the wild energy from the leylines, which she found to her delight were not as big an ordeal to wield.
Drawing her swords and sending a prayer calling forth the winds, she cleared the fluffy whiteness from both camps, then sheathed them and floated down, skipping along, leaving strange shapes in her wake.

Full of mischief and mirth, she decided to "help", and since everyone was assembling inside, she drew her swords again in prayer, blowing the loose flakes away, and gently melting the ice away until it was dry. When all was clear that she could safely clear without fear of strangers spying, she sheathed her swords, and wrapping herself in her cloak, waited for everyone to step out.

[jwhouk]

(Cheater... )

[Just Old Al]

mumble mumble elf...mumble mumble couldn't do that BEFORE I got dressed and left behind the hot redhead...thanks...

[DinkyInky]

"Yes, it's cheating, but I don't caaaaare!"

(Cheater... )

Hey! One, she's a consummate prankster, and two, you don't have to do it now.

Call it an apology for all the confusion she's caused poor Edward(s).

[Sgt. Howard]

"Al, we seem to have an AWOL here-" Greg called out as he counted noses, "We seem to be shy one Glytch,"
"Well, THAT won't do. We need a full complement for what we are about this morning- And I daresay there's no brekkies for louts in THIS company,"
"Shall we fetch him?"
"Do let's,"
Marching to the room of the offending party, Al proceeded to knock... to no avail. Greg pounded the door- and they both heard a weak "... five more minutes, Ma..."- looking at each other sharing a wicked grin, Greg opened the door and entered, Al following.
Glytch was sprawled across the bed much like a teenaged boy might do. The covers were hither and yon, the pillow on the floor... yes, it was a situation alright... the two old NCOs walked to one side of the bed, grabbed the mattress and heaved it straight up and over, spilling the unfortunate lad on the floor. Glytch smacked the hardwood, and started scrabbling for traction with bare feet and hands yelling "EARTHQUAKE! EARTHQUAKE!!"

It looked like an old Hanna-Barbera cartoon.

Finally getting himself upright, he braced himself in the doorframe, wide-eyed, breathing hard, nude except for a dingy, worn pair of boxer shorts... and would have continued the hue and cry were it not for the sight of Al and Greg laughing hysterically.
"Oh," he muttered, "breakfast is up then?"

"Hey there, were'd the snow go?" called out Greg as he assessed the situation- "It was here a moment ago,"
"Hmpf!- It would appear some trickster is involved... and since we have a wood sprite in these woods, I believe I can name a candidate- Edward, it would seem our services are not needed here... a shame, I was looking forward to using a snow blower,"
Glytch was too afraid to open his mouth... he did NOT want to insult Emerauld, but he knew he would if he allowed himself speech...

[Just Old Al]

"Sergeant Gregory - shall we proceed to breakfast?"

"One moment, first - we need to have a word with our young friend."

Greg got serious, as did Al. In a situation like they'd had two nights ago, a minute's hesitation could be a disaster, and delay an effective response. So far this had not been an issue with those as the redoubt, but it potentially could be.

Greg led in, voice and manner now no-nonsense. "Glytch, I understand where your diurnal clock is - but we're in a spot where fast and awake in an emergency is going to be needed. I will leave it to you to determine how best to make this work - but it HAS to work. Understood?"

Al nodded, not feeling the need to say anything.

Glytch, chagrined by his failure to respond and a bit shaken by the abrupt vertical nature of his awakening, nodded, then said "I'll find a way. I know I can do it - but -"

Greg clapped him on his shoulder, then said "No matter, Glytch - we know you can and won't worry about it from here. Don't make us do this again, though."

Al and Greg left, closing the door behind them. Glytch began to pull himself together, still smarting a bit from the morning's activities...definitely something that he did not want to repeat.

[Dave]

mumble mumble elf...mumble mumble couldn't do that BEFORE I got dressed and left behind the hot redhead...thanks...

Be glad she didn't just move some of the snow to between the nape of your neck, and the area of the Long Shirt Charge.

[DinkyInky]

mumble mumble elf...mumble mumble couldn't do that BEFORE I got dressed and left behind the hot redhead...thanks...

Be glad she didn't just move some of the snow to between the nape of your neck, and the area of the Long Shift Charge.

She'd never prank the mate/pet of the host...plus, it's been too long since the last time she had to fight a raging centaur dam.

[Just Old Al]

AUTHOR NOTE: PLEASE READ:

This post and my next two are going to concern the crisis of the warrior and his regard for himself despite the filthy business he is in. I've talked to Sarge about this and he agrees with me and how I am presenting this - but it is not happy reading. Those of a sensitive nature should just skip this and my next two posts and just assume the whole thing did not go down well.

Thanks to DinkyInky - without her and the exqusite work she does I could never have crafted this. - Just Old Al



Al sat at the desk in his new room. The view was different, as was the finishes on wall and floor but it was still a cozy haven from the world. This room faced toward the lake, and the sparkle of the still unfrozen water and the white patches of snow soothed some of the hurt in his mind. Much more remained, however, and this was aimed for immortalizing on paper.


Siege, Day 54:


Two days have gone by since I talked to Emerauld at the forest’s edge by the willow. In that time I’ve gone from certain I’d made the right move to maximize advantages to certain I’d made the wrong move and back again. Now, I’m merely uncertain – Emerauld’s impassioned questioning of me and my motives and her wholesale fervent disgust at my past makes me strongly suspect I’ve overreached myself for this plum and am about to take a nasty fall.

It wasn’t the vow I’d taken – that I would stand behind to the death, if need be. She was right on that – if my motives were not pure I deserved whatever would happen to me. It wasn’t that I’d asked for a boon, and had it granted.

I’d gotten what I wanted – but I felt like I shouldn’t have, for some reason. Odd, but there it was.

Rosalita had come through for me admirably in the request I’d made. I went into the kitchen after she did the groceries, and found a wine crate full of glass Mason jars, each packed to the brim with grains, legumes, vegetables, or spiced dried meats. She told me rather proudly, “Edward was most annoyed at the side trip, and even more at the amount of time it took for me to get these items. I made very sure to get nothing that had any preservatives other than drying or salt. Everything is as Mother Nature made it.”

I was very happy – I hoped that this offering would be accepted. I was trying as hard as I could to make up for all the trouble she was going to for someone she considered lower than dirt.

I think, perhaps, that this is it. She despised me and my former profession. Then why did she agree to help me?

Family – that was it. I replayed the conversation in my head – the odd, stilted recourse we’d had there at the edge of the wood. Along with the reason she granted me the favour, was the reason for her disgust and revulsion.

Velg'larn – manhunter. Killer of his own kind. That word had been bouncing around in my cranium as we talked and planned, we three – Neil, Greg and myself. Glytch, bless his heart, is an innocent compared to us professionals.

Velg'larn.

No matter that I was now S’argt – which I believe meant protector or guardian from the way Emerauld used it. I had still been Velg'larn.

I remembered talking to soldiers who’d seen service in Indo-China in the 1960s – Australian Army types who’d been there with the American forces. They remembered coming home to the epithets and hatred of the anti-war minority in Australia – and it scarred them.

This was what I was facing now. I’d been proud of my battle record, the good I’d done, the folks I’d protected – but I remembered things I’d rather not remember as well. Things in Belfast,in the Falklands (and the awards I’d turned down there), things in Sierra Leone when I got my arse shot off.

Velg’larn.

This is bothering me far more than it should. I thought I’d come to grips with it long, long ago, after I retired. This has opened old wounds I’d long since thought scarred over.

I cannot – nay, I WILL NOT allow this to turn me from the course I have been set here. I can and I must be the warrior I am no longer, to protect those I love.

I am S’ARGT. I am PROTECTOR. I am no longer Velg’larn.

More later. Soon I must go face my accuser. She may be right, but needs must or none of us will see this through.

With this, Al closed the journal, wiped his eyes while muttering “dozy old sod”, and left his new room after checking the security of his weapons case.

[Just Old Al]

Post 2 of 3 - please avoid if you avoided the first


I left the house, lugging my burden of food. I’d also begged some needles and sewing notions from the chambermaid, figuring they’d go well considering the difficulty of making them.


I left Glytch behind – I had a feeling that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation, and he didn’t need to see this. I was half a step from abandoning my weapon and turning around myself – continuing to walk took most of my will power.


Why? I do not know. Perhaps it was Emerauld’s accusations; perhaps it was my own newly opened wounds over my former life, perhaps none of the above and simply the cold weather and the snow that now drifted away from the open areas.

I plodded onward, the crate of food stretching my arms as I went. I cursed the snow, quietly, and cursed myself for ever thinking this was a good idea. The doubts that Emerauld had put in my mind had been festering since I spoke with her, and lent little enthusiasm to my steps.

Finally, I reached the willow. It drooped dispiritedly, its leaves peeping through the light dusting of snow on this November day. I called out, softly, then louder.

“Emerauld, I am here. Please talk to me.”

“You are on time, S’argt. I will give you that.”

“Before we talk, I wish to give you this thank offering. I do not want you to think your work and willingness to do what you’ve done has gone unappreciated. This is just a symbol of what I owe you – please consider me in your debt should there be anything useful a mortal do for you.”

I walked forward to the base of the willow, set the crate down. Wood, glass, all natural foods – all useful. Even the metal in the nails holding the crate together could be recycled to some purpose.

I backed off to give her space, knowing I was not one of her favourite beings on the planet. I was hoping that while we’d never be friends, that at least I could mitigate some of the disgust the half-elf felt for me. It made me deeply uncomfortable at a level I never went to - there were things there I wanted nothing to do with.

“You chose well. Who instructed you in this?” she said, after examining the jars and opening a few. “No one. I sat and thought, and tried to decide what you could best use at this time of the year. Should you want more, tell me – I have more that I could not carry. Anything I can do for you, I will happily do. I can do no less.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything. What you have done for me will let me defend my family better, and keep me from doing harm to others that do not mean me harm.”

“What of the harm you have done me?”

My mind raced like an unthrottled engine. What harm had I done? Not for the first time in this encounter I thought I was over my head.

“ I have spent time with that heavy, graceless thing you call a Lee-Enfield. I have had to handle it, clean it, fix the abuse you gave it, and fit it with a new ‘stock’ as you call it. It soiled me. I will never remove the stink of it in my mind.”

Now, I was angry. The Lee-Enfield is not an elegant weapon, but heavy and graceless it is not. I quelled my anger rapidly, and asked, “Then why did you agree to help me?”

“Family. You are defending your family – your mate the dam and the family of association that have gathered around you. Family is all I would ever have responded to – and you happened onto the trigger that would bend me to your will on this. However, I will never get the Lee-Enfield’s stink out of my mind and off my hands.”

I was angry still, but I held my peace. This was adding insult to injury, and I debated walking away during the long few seconds that the elf stared at me.

Disappearing, she reappeared moments later with my weapon – but it was unrecognizable.

A deeply dipped stock of almost feminine curve, a butt that arched under and over to lock to the shoulder of the bearer. The butt had a cheek pocket that was smoothly contoured to hold the head in a specific spot, and the grip point for the left hand had been carved to fit the exact contours of my hand.

Other than the spots where I would hold it, the entire outside of the stock was covered in elegant scrollwork – work that reeked of power to my mind. The elf had done as she said – I had no doubt that the weapon would fit me perfectly. I also had no doubt whatsoever that my life would be short and much less than sweet if I ever raised it against a human other than in defense of home and hearth.

After a few seconds of contemplation of her work, the elf threw the weapon at me – crosswise. I caught it instinctively, and felt a shock as I did. This was no longer my old companion from campaign to campaign, the rifle that I had stolen with the help of a corruptible quartermaster when I retired.

This was a new weapon – the power it had was palpable. I knew if handled properly it would never miss-shoot – but I could never misuse it.

Emerauld’s eyes opened wider, and then saddened. “Sensitivity, knowledge of the power and potential – all wasted. You feel the power, but you will never be able to use it. Too late, and too much corruption.”

“CORRUPTION? I am not corrupt, elf. I am FAR from corrupt.” I went to hand the weapon back to her. “If I am corrupt, you keep Rose. If I am too frail a mortal and corruptible, she will be better here with you. Perhaps you can put her to better use.”

Her nose wrinkled as if with a bad smell. “Rose? You have named your weapon Cryso? It deserves no such name. Name it Destroyer, name it Death, but do not sully the name of a delicate flower by attaching it to this monster.”

I finally lost my temper. “TAKE IT, THEN! I will do without its help, and pray to my gods that my aim is true. I may fail, but I will not soil your work with my corruption this way.”

The elf bridled at my last sally, her eyes turning ice-blue and glowing with rage.

"Just take this monster and leave. You ultimately made the choice to be a killer for your rulers, while I understand your reasons, I cannot accept that is the only way...to blindly shoot when ordered. They too had parents, husbands, wives, children, and followed their rulers.
I spent too many years being forced or tricked into the puppet of bloodthirsty fools, hunting these weapons to win glory. I was a fool.
The only blessing in being a thrice cursed half elf is I outlived them all so I could earn my peace. I carry these weapons of my bloodlust as penance."

Drawing her swords, she started the movements ingrained through long practice, wordlessly chanting. As she moved, the skies darkened, the ground shook, the trees seemed to move as though alive and runes appeared on her hands as though
branded. Tears streaming down her face, she stilled her movements, sheathed her swords, and showed the backs of each hand.

"I too was once a warrior, nay, the better word, as your tongue calls it, is assassin, glutted with power. The Gods punished me for my pride...I wear their marks until I die. I will not kill another sentient creature while I live. I have enough blood on my hands.

Your friend Phix made Safyr see a way to judge the individual, not the race.

My sister lost EVERYTHING when she chose me, a half elf, over her pure blood kin, including her life if they see her.
She dragged me out of a warzone, half mad, after I had just obliterated an entire forest in my...thirst for battle, and brought me back to her people, who told her to kill me and earn her place in the ranks of the elite.
Instead, she took all her belongings and me, and left, becoming as I, an enemy. She healed my wounds, and nursed me out of the madness place. She then found me...instructors, who showed me how to fight without using the powers within. I never understood why.

She is becoming as close to what you call a knight as her blood allows. She only kills when there is no other way to bring them to justice, and uses her gifts to protect those who cannot. Every day, she fought her nature to become more than she is, to heal my madness by example. She is my sister in other ways than just blood, though I suspect there is that, but wait for her to say.

She is here to protect Phix’s daughter and her mate, as payment for a debt owed.

I came along here to...how you humans say, 'watch her back'.

Just keep your word, and this thing will keep you alive, though I do not agree in your need of it."

Turning quickly, she stepped into the shadows and disappeared.

Gutted by her revelations, I staggered back. The rage I had felt had turned to utter terror during her demonstration then to sadness as I saw the burned marks of her shame on her hands.

I looked at my weapon – no longer the Rose of England, but a hybrid that would help keep my loved ones safe. After that, I would never raise it again. Some power should never be used, and this was the last time we would fight together.

I staggered back toward the house, the weapon slung over my shoulder, still a comforting presence though not my old battle companion.

[Just Old Al]

Part 3 of 3 - Avoid if you skipped the first two.

Al staggered into the kitchen from the back door, and Rosalita gasped. He was sheet white, unsteady, and looked like a man in the throes of a heart attack.

Al stammered out “Where is Daisy?” and stared at her.

Edward looked in, and immediately came over and supported Al. He spoke urgently to Rosalita. “Fetch the mistress to Mr. Richer’s room – I’ll take him there.” With Edward supporting and half-carrying him, he got Al to his room and got the door closed. He reached up to relieve Al of the weapon over his shoulder, and Al grasped his wrists and said “Don’t touch it. This thing is dangerous.” Al reached up, unslung the weapon and laid it on top of his weapons case. With that, he nearly collapsed, and Edward got him down on the bed and his shoes and coat off. That done, Al collapsed back onto the bed and Edward arranged him comfortably.

Daisy came in at nearly a run then stopped, shocked at the haggard old man she saw. Thanking Edward for his kindness and ushering him out, she kicked off her own shoes and lay down next to Al, holding him tightly. Her presence seemed to calm him, and after some number of minutes a bit of his colour returned, and he was able to sit back against the head of the bed. Daisy still held him tightly, sitting up as well. Finally, Al began to speak.

“Love, I’ve been a stupid, blind fool. I’ve made a horrid mistake, and caused no end of pain to someone who offered me no harm. I’ve overreached, not understanding what I was asking for, and caused endless hurt. I can’t fix this – I wouldn’t even know how.” Over the next 20 minutes Al slowly, painfully described the meetings with Emerauld, leaving nothing out including the stigmata her hands bore and the story she told.

“Al, it is not your fault. You knew nothing of the problems, and went to her innocently looking for an advantage to help us. You can’t destroy yourself over this – you didn’t know Emerauld’s background.”

“I know that. There was no way I could know. She should have turned me down – there was no reason for her to help me, other than to help me defend my family. That’s not the problem.”

“The problem is – she’s made me face what I am.”

“She is right. I am a murderer. I have killed folks whose only crime was to be on the other side of a conflict from me. I’ve killed many of them over the years and places.” Slowly, painfully, he began to list the battles and the places, all ripped out of his mind piece by painful piece.

“I got what I wanted – I have a weapon with tremendous power that will never fail me if I adhere to the vow I made. However, it has come at a terrible cost, to her and to me. Her pain is realizing what she was, and having to examine it again in her own mind.”

“My cost is to have the blinders torn from my face – and having to see what I was.” With that, he rolled into her willing embrace, burying his face in her breasts and crying in great, heaving gasps for long minutes while she held him and stroked his back, murmuring words unheard but felt. Finally, he quieted, still awake but all emotion presently spent.

“What Now?” Daisy looked down at him, not trying to be accusatory but to try and get his mind off the spiked wheel it trod. Nothing was there but pain and more anguish – she needed to get his mind free of it for the moment, and get him to look more dispassionately. If she could do that he would still hurt, but he would be able to look past the pain toward healing. At least she hoped so – she was frightened that there would be no way back.

“There is no what now. The only what now is the end of this conflict – and then I am done. I cannot bear this burden. Once you and yours are safe, and the others as well I am done and can rest.”

This chilled Daisy. She knew what he meant. With those simple statements he’d condemned himself to death – simply for being what he was. He was a good man, an honest man – being forced to examine things that he should never have had to in that way.

Daisy was insanely angry at the half-elf. She had her burdens, true and more than any being should have been forced to handle. This did not mean she had to inflict her pain on the suffering man she held now in exchange for help innocently asked. Not for the first time Daisy was thoroughly tired of this horrible conflict.

She looked down to him again, and uttered a single word:

“No.”

He looked up, puzzled. Her statement meant nothing to him.

"No, love. You're not allowed to go anywhere I can't go with you. You don't have my permission to do that. You never will."

Al looked up. He understood the words, but could not fathom a response.

“You don't have my permission to go. Not now, not for a long time. When it's time I'll tell you. Until then, not happening."

Al found his voice. “You do not understand. I have murdered…killed… I must atone.”

“Atone? You have. You will. How many here and in other places are alive because you stopped those that would hurt them? How many more will live and marry to have fat babies because of your help? You will get past this and as I said, you don't have my permission to leave - ever.”

Al pulled Daisy down to his level, and immersed himself in her presence, her smell, her soft, comforting touch. The wounds in his mind were too raw, too fresh...but she took the hurt away, and made it possible to take the next breath, and the next, and the next.

"Sleep, love." Emotion exhausted both of them slept.

[Sgt. Howard]

So many times have I heard the confessions of a soldier- they all sound the same. Different names, different places, differed weapons... same moral issues. Eventually it has to spill out.

[GlytchMeister]

Woah...

[TazManiac]

Seeing Tina off to her post in the Library, and finding little snow to clear from the paths as he'd been mustered out to work on, Stanley found himself at loose ends.

His hunger still gnawed at the edges of his awareness and he found himself heading back indoors to the Kitchen while pondering his next move.

Rosalita came through, no doubt wondering who might be violating her domain... Stan was able to put her at ease with a few comments about just needing some snacks for the road as he refilled the shoulder bag he'd taken to keeping near at all times the last few days.

Setting out into the snow covered out of doors he kept in the open areas and basically started out with no real destination, just wanting some physical activity to brace himself up with.

His condition had improved remarkably and he had wondered how he had survived at all, there where obvious physical signs, but he also knew it had been close- without intervention he'd be looking at all this beauty set out before him from the other side of the veil.

He trudged along, melancholy beginning to worm it's way at his edges, but seeing his old foe again he redoubled his progress and lifted his head with an effort and began breathing long slow deep breaths in reply. "Not today you don't. Maybe tomorrow, but not today...".

As the cold seeped in from the outside it was met by the heat from the physical exertion of a spirited stride, soon he was making quite the sight; a dark garbed figure against a snow white background, moving along at speed but not seemingly going anywhere particular, his head and shoulders steaming from the effort in the cold...

Soon enough it was apparent that he'd run through what reserves he'd rebuilt and he turned back toward the Manor, finally dipping into the carry-bag he'd slung over his shoulder. Trying to pace himself so as not to start a cramp, Stan also tried to balance the feeling of never having eaten anything, ever, that he'd hoped to have gotten a handle on by now.

It was true it had diminished, but still it caught him unawares at times and he hated the feeling.

On his plate today he'd hoped to connect the perimeter alert system he'd been putting together with the rest of the existing estate's infrastructure, thinking perhaps that guy Glytch might be able to make use of the telemetry some way. The incoming data was still diffuse, but it was pretty far reaching and it never hurt to develop some redundancy in security matters.

Still, his first task seemed to be to Google up a chocolate éclair recipe and to try his hand again at baking...

"Wait!" he thought, "I just need to stop by Mucho Mocha and see Becky...".

[DinkyInky]

Making the large drifts dance in fury whirling around in the empty pasture, Emerauld raged, feeling sorrow and despair crashing down in waves as she felt the results of his acceptance of the monster.

"I pushed too hard. His sin is not mine. His sin is not mine. My punishment was for my pride. He. is. not. ME!"

Flinging her hands out, the runes flashing on her hands, now extending to her wrists, the dancing flakes turned to a whirling water spout, then froze into clear ice, as though sculpted.

"I only wanted him to see the danger of that much power, not break his spirit!" She wailed to the heavens.

Collapsing in the middle of another drift, she let the tears stream down, the raging blizzard on the Alexander property stilling to gentle flutterings.

Safyr stepped carefully through the ice-filled pasture until she came up to her sister, then slapped her with enough force to knock her backwards.

"Pity does not suit you. Stop it now. No, he is not you. Yes, you, like I did before, pushed too hard. The question is, now that you have, how do you heal yourself, and those hurt by it?

Can you work past it?

Can you face his angry mate?

Are these humans worth the effort?

Answer these instead of feeling sorry for yourself. Oh, and go clear up the paths again. You make them have to come out in this, and I will beat you, and not in a fun way."

Trudging off, she made short work of it all, as before, then left a note for Daisy Alexander...and Al. She was not looking forward to this at all, but she feared not doing it more.

[jwhouk]

---

The drive down Highway K was a quiet one.

For the last few days, I'd been the one driving, while Suzie had checked messages on her cell.

This morning, though, she had fallen asleep a few moments after I pulled onto K.

Getting forced to work a double shift - two days in a row - was hard enough for me; she was finding it impossible.

Maybe we need to have the agents trade off on this, I thought to myself.

[Warrl]

mumble mumble elf...mumble mumble couldn't do that BEFORE I got dressed and left behind the hot redhead...thanks...

Be glad she didn't just move some of the snow to between the nape of your neck, and the area of the Long Shift Charge.

She'd never prank the mate/pet of the host...plus, it's been too long since the last time she had to fight a raging centaur dam.

I think she might say it hasn't been long enough...

[Hansontoons]

Jeez- I spend the day too friggin busy at work to check the forum and then running my daughter to the airport to catch a flight and then home to walk the J and wash my car because of wet messy road construction mess all over it and now I have all sorts of wording to read!

Good thing I am taking Friday off, I'll brew up some coffee in the morning and take my time to soak in all the happenings. Brain too frazzed at this point to concentrate. The Fat Tire beers din't help either...

[DinkyInky]

Be glad she didn't just move some of the snow to between the nape of your neck, and the area of the Long Shift Charge.

She'd never prank the mate/pet of the host...plus, it's been too long since the last time she had to fight a raging centaur dam.

I think she might say it hasn't been long enough...

No, that would be her sister. Fighting Centaurs in full conversion battle plate is not her cuppa.

[Just Old Al]

Author's Note: I just couldnt leave the poor bastard out there.... Alan

Daisy quietly backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

In the hall stood Greg and Neil, the look on both their faces obviously asking the same question. They’d been briefed by the house’s news system – Rosalita – and had come straight there but had not intruded.

“In short, he’s a mess. That damned elf mind-raped him. In short, he’s had all of the moral foundation for all his years in the service ripped out from under him. His mind’s just running on a spiked wheel – every step is killin’ him, but he can’t stop.”

Neil and Greg nodded. Like all soldiers they’d both heard this sad tale before – all soldiers had this happen to them if they had any kind of a moral conscience at all – and the ones who didn’t were mostly psychopaths.

“We have to get him off the treadmill. If we can get some distance between him and the immediate damage, we have a shot at getting him back in one more-or-less piece.” Neil mused further “What the hell would kick him loose?”

“You need ask? What’s he been whining about for the entire time we’ve been here? Coffee. He is so addicted to good coffee he’d walk across a bed of nails barefoot for a decent cup.”

“That would mean the Library.”

“Your call, Neil. I don’t have a clue how to get there from here.”

Neil thought on it for a few minutes, his thought processes evident in his face. Indecision was never one of his vices – his thoughts were all on the logistics of getting it to happen.

“OK – we’ll go for it. Worse to worst he gets a decent cup of coffee before Phix eats him.” Daisy looked alarmed, then realized Neil was joking…or she hoped so.

“So, now what? Obviously we don’t grab him and drag him off – the poor bastard’s had a bad enough day.”

“Simple – he’ll be up soon enough – he was starting to stir. When he gets up Phix makes noises about going to Tina’s for coffee and he’ll be on that like a hungry trout.

Coffee is not a beverage for him – it’s a solace and a comfort when the world goes to shit on him. He’s told me about endless canteen cups of coffee with his mates in various hellholes – and those were the nights he treasured the most of his time in service. Not the battles, not the strikes or defenses – the camaraderie of his comrades and a cup of coffee.

You offer him a Kona brewed strong with cream and Demara and it might be the thing to kick him off the wheel.”

Al drifted on the edge of consciousness – every time he came to the surface his memory pushed him back down – he wanted nothing to do with consciousness ever again. Eventually, the wisdom of the body pushed him to the surface and he opened his eyes – with the memories still in front of his mind’s eye. He winced in pain, but true to his nature he rose in spite of himself.

The pain was still front and center – but the distance of a sleep took the intolerable and made it bearable for a while. Like an organism in constant pain the pain itself diminished the life force – but the sleep had helped.

Al sat up and then groped for the boots Edward had taken off him. Lacing them on, he rose, walked to the door and found the corridor empty.

“Maybe a cuppa would do me good.” He thought. With a goal in mind, he shambled down the corridor to the main room and toward the kitchen. The people there pointedly did not react to him – so Daisy had been here, though she was not at present.

“Hey, Al!” Phix waved from the other side of the room. Slowly, Al turned in that direction and wandered to the group standing there – Phix, Neil and Greg.

“Al, I’m headed to Tina’s – been waiting for you. Figured you might want a decent cup – I know the industrial stuff Rosalita’s been cranking out lately isn’t doing it for you.”

A flicker of interest crossed Al’s face, then collapsed to indifference. “Sure.”

Greg, behind him, winced and looked at Neil. Neither liked that flat tone of voice.

“Do I need my coat?”

“No – portal’s right over toward the stables. We can be there and through in a few minutes – come on.”

Neil lagged behind, letting Phix and Al get ahead. Al’s entrance to the library was going to be abrupt and hopefully shocking enough to kick him out of the circles his mind was most evidently running in.

Up ahead was the stable door – Phix opened it and ushered Al through, then stepped through herself.

Despite his present condition Al was impressed. The atrium of the library was a space after his own heart – columned partial floors surrounding a central atrium that went up…and up…and up.

After a moment though his eyes were on one thing and one thing alone – the coffee cart with Tina standing behind it.

“TINA! LARGE KONA WITH CREAM AND DEMARA PLEASE!” Al bellowed as he scuttled toward the cart on the other side of the atrium floor…

Until a VERY large body covered in fur, with wings, claws and teeth landed in front of him. Al skidded to a halt – his mind whirling. What in Hades was Phix playing at?

“STAND, HUMAN!” Phix bellowed. The occupants of the atrium rapidly found other places to be, and the floor was soon empty other than the sphinx and the elderly human.

“Human? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT? YOU KNOW MY NAME!”

“HUMAN, do you come here for knowledge or adventure?”

“I come here for sodding COFFEE you threadbare excuse for a fur rug! Now get the Hades out of my way before I beat you stupider than you’re already acting!”

“HUMAN, I am the Librarian of this place. YOU have a choice. Answer my riddle correctly, or DIE.”

“Really? Can’t this wait till I get my cuppa?”

“NO! This is life or death for YOU!”

“Phix, I have sat with you and chatted while you nursed Dixie. Do you seriously think I’m going to believe this pantomime?”

Phix thought to herself that this was decidedly NOT going to plan. Al was not taking this seriously and that rankled. OK, time to ratchet the game up a notch.

WHACK!

A massive paw took Al off his feet and knocked him flat on his fedora, sliding a bit till he came to a stop. He clambered to his feet, well and truly angry now.

“LOOK you furry pain in my arse, I came here to get a cup of coffee and I am godsdammed going to GET one even if I have to go THROUGH you.”

“HUMAN, YOU do NOT understand. You get a riddle to answer – answer it and you live. FAIL and you DIE.”

“Did Neil put you up to this? I know I shouldn’t have laughed at him when he was making suggestions on my staff deployments, but really this is a bit much…”

“ENOUGH!” Phix bellowed, and even Tina looked a bit concerned. Phix was well and truly angry now, and the unspoken rule that no one gets eaten was looking to be in serious jeopardy.

“ANSWER or DIE. NO MORE TALK.”

“LOOK, you badly aerodynamic pile of spare parts, I am NOT answering ANY SODDING RIDDLE till I GET A SODDING CUP OF COFFEE – AM I UNDERSTOOD?”

By this time Neil had come though the gate and was well outside the visible area of either of them. Frankly, he was thrilled to see Al shouting back at Phix. This was the warrior Al coming back out – and the longer he kept it up the better off he was going to be.

Now, if he could keep his wife from devouring him that would be an ideal solution. Neil crept closer, still out of visibility, but close enough to intervene if necessary.

While he did this, the volume increased.

“I COULD EAT YOU WITHOUT BREAKING A SWEAT! HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT CHALLENGING ME!”

“OK, LIBRARIAN – DO ME A FAVOR BEFORE WE DO THIS - LOOK ME UP A RECIPE FOR SPHINX BECAUSE I MAKE A POINT OF EATING WHAT I KILL - AND I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TO EXPERIMENT!”

“HOW DARE YOU!”

“I DARE! Humans are scavenger carnivores – I’ve eaten far worse…though you do look a bit underexercised!”

That did it. Phix tensed to leap, and Neil flung himself forward, between the two combatants.

THWACK! “HOLD!”

Tina held a meter stick, obviously provided for the occasion. The combatants froze, and Neil took advantage of the situation to get between them. Al was flushed, tensed and definitely had a full head of steam up against the blockade between him and a decent cup. Phix was tensed in full carnivore attack mode – wound as tight as a coiled spring – and far more dangerous.

“PHIX! Just how many husbands do you need?!?!?”

“Husbands? You think this feeble old man can take me? I’ll be picking my teeth with his thighbone in a matter of minutes.”

“That old man has been rejuvenated – and has hand to hand training as good as mine if not a bit better – and he’s had plenty of practice at it. I’m not sure who’s going to be gnawing whose thighbone.”

Phix had cooled a bit - the same could not be said of Al. The English are slow to anger – and slow to cool.

“Neil – this is between me and the winged fleabag. Kindly step out of the way so I can bring this to a satisfactory conclusion and get to my coffee. I tire of all this prattling and posing.”

“POSING? POSING?? I will give you posing you dried-up bag of bones…”

“Here, kitty, kitty...”

Neil knew this had to stop now before these idiots tangled. He had no intention of ending up Al’s co-husband – and Daisy would be quite annoyed.

“ENOUGH, THE TWO OF YOU! PHIX – ask your damned riddle. Al, Answer the damned riddle.”

At that instant, Tina, braving the claws from one side and the enraged hairless ape on the other, dodged in and handed Al a large coffee carton. Al pulled off the lid, took a large, healing draught of its contents and sighed dramatically. “THAT’S better. Ask your question.”

“I am born in fear, raised in truth,
and I come to my own in deed.
When comes a time that I’m called forth,
I come to serve the cause of need.”

Al thought for a moment, and answered.

“Courage. Your answer is courage.”

With that answer, Phix stood down, again becoming the handsome human woman she was.

“Milady, may I buy you and Neil a coffee? Tina, coffee for the General and his lady please. Give me one of Greg’s prescription as well, and another of these to go.”

He wasn’t OK – and he wasn’t sure he ever would be again. However, for the moment he could keep breathing…and a tall Kona will go not a small way toward tranquility.