Rising

   Chapter Five

   The nobleman cursed under his breath, feeling the heat of the flames
closing in around them.  Already the walls had caught.  Flames licked
hungrily up the wood panels.  The ceiling creaked and groaned in protest,
the beams crackling lively as the flames caught along their lengths
Methaniel shoved the bloodied dagger into his belt, shouldered his
traveling pack, and gathered the frightened Wingling girl into his arms.

   "Keep calm and don't move," he murmured into her ear.  She shook and
quivered in the circle of his arms but made no other movement.  He couldn't
be sure if she was complying with his orders or was simply in such shock
that she was utterly motionless.

   Methaniel picked her up and held her to his chest with one arm.  He
strode to the window and kicked it open.  The swung outward on their
hinges. A glance down revealed thick layers of snow padding the ground
below.  The drop was not so very long, but had just enough distance to
damage someone who would take the plunge.

   A long terrace laden with thick growths of vines clung to the wall,
winding and twisting sinuously upward to create an intricate length of
strong, healthy cords.  Methaniel saw the flames creeping closer along the
walls, and quickly swung his legs out of the window, gripped the length of
vines, and plummeting downward.

   The vines strained and snapped, separating from the wall and dragging
along more of the thick creeping plants, pulling the wooden trellis from
the wall along with them.  Their decent was rough and jarring, and when
they touched upon the ground Methaniel had to hold a grunt back as the
shock of impact ran through his body.  But their fall was slowed enough to
take away the brunt of the landing, and the snow padded the ground just
enough to keep the impact minimal.  He stood straight and shifted the woman
in his arms.  Ahma had gathered her wits enough to wrap her arms about his
neck and hold fast to his body, but was otherwise still paralyzed by fear
and horror.

   Master Methaniel sprung into motion, his free hand pulling his blade
from his sheath in a quiet hiss.  Snow drifted down through the sky, and
the white powder was beginning to melt about the burning house.  The
nobleman crept silently through the darkness, his heavy booted feet
surprisingly silent and smooth as he trod through the snow.  Ahma clung to
him and shiver, partially out of fear, partially from the chill of the
night upon her body as her dress did precious little to keep her warm.

   He brought them to the stables, holding back in the shadows, his eyes
peering into the ring of light cast by the single lantern hanging on a post
in the doorway to the stables.  Three men stood within or around the
lantern light, standing casually, their weapons sheathed and their
attention lax.  Apparently they were fairly convinced that the attacking
force raging through the mansion would more than do their job.

   Methaniel pushed the tip of his blade into the snow, propping it up and
yanking the dagger from his belt.  He sent it flipping into the farthest
man, the blade sinking deep into the man's chest with a hard thunk,
impacting so hard it sent the body jerking back and sprawling to the
ground. The man gurgled and spasmed his life out.

   The two soldiers stupidly turned to regard the body upon the ground,
staring dumbly in shock at their dying comrade.

   The leftmost soldier's head flew to the side, smacking roughly into the
wall, smearing it with blood.  The last remaining soldier turned to face
the looming attacker, his hand almost closing around the hilt of his weapon
before Methaniel's massive sword plunged into his chest, sliding hotly out
his back and staining the snow with bright red blood.

   Methaniel yanked his blade from the limp body and quickly wiped it clean
before sheathing it again.  Ahma yelped and jerked in his arm as the hot
blood splashed across her angelic face and slender neck.  She was still
trapped in her own personal nightmare.  She thrashed and struggled for a
moment, haunted by memories of bloodshed and fire and agony.  The Master
pulled her closer, keeping a firm grip on her, and reached up with one hand
to smooth her tousled hair as he stalked quickly into the stables.

   The girl quieted after a moment, but seemed as removed from reality as
ever.  The nobleman thanked his luck that she had at least calmed and
glanced around the stables.  If he bolted out, a solitary form dashing
through the lengthy yard and into the city, he would stand out like a
beacon.

   Thinking quickly, he ran to each pen in the stable and threw the door
open wide, kicking the wall and jolting each horse into frantic action. 
The smell of blood and smoke and the orange glow of the flames a few yards
away finished his work and the horses bolted, charging out of the stables
and scattering in fright.

   When he came to Lanion's pen and opened it the enormous warhorse sat
calm and alert, his equine eyes shining wetly in the darkness as he gazed
at his Master.

   "Time to go Lanion.  Out into the wilderness and as far away as you may
carry us.  We're being chased, so you must take us far and fast from this
place."

   Ahma shifted in Methaniel's arms as he gathered her and lifted her up,
putting her onto the back of his tall, powerful horse.

   "M...Master?" she stuttered, seeming to come out of her daze as if
waking.  She was groggy and uncertain and teetered upon the horses back
before correcting her balance.  She shivered and drew her wings closer.

   "I know you do not like other riders," Methaniel whispered into his
mounts ear as Lanion stamped softly on the ground.  "But you will have to
make an exception.  Settle and prepare."

   Having no time to saddle his mount, the nobleman gripped the horse's
withers in one hand and put his hand on its rump with the other.  He
vaulted himself up as lightly as possibly, swinging his right leg over the
horse's wide back and settling on his steed.  Ahma was settled infront of
him, and he reached around her with one arm and gathered her close to his
body.

   "Whatever happens," Methaniel whispered into Ahma's ear, causing her to
instinctively huddle closer to his warm body.  "Whatever this horse does,
don't move.  And don't panic.  I have you.  I will not let you fall."

   His arms reached forward and lightly took hold of the massive horses
withers then and he squeezed at Lanion's sides with his thighs.  The horse
quickly began forward and walked its own way out of the stables.  Methaniel
ducked low to avoid the beams cris-crossing the ceiling.  Ahma's face paled
from her creamy soft complexion to a sickly, almost gray-white as they
exited the stables and the burning manor came into view.  She felt herself
falling toward a swoon, but held on, more in control now.  As they passed
the doorway the Master reached out and plucked the oil lantern from the
hook on the door post.

   "Take this," he instructed as he pushed the warm lantern into Ahma's
frigid hands.  She sighed, at first thinking him trying to help her warm
however he could.

   "Wrap your wings around it and suffocate the light," he continued. 
"Hand it to me when I say."

   Ahma nodded numbly, somehow able to register what he told her even
through her shock and vacant state.  Methaniel bent forward as he squeezed
his horse tightly with his thighs.

   "Slowly, Lanion."

   The horse trotted forward, jerking forward, carrying them quietly across
the few acres of the front lawn.  The estate walls soon loomed ahead, and
Methaniel guided his horse right up to the wall before turning him toward
the gate.  Three men stood before the ornate gate, standing utterly still
despite the bone-deep cold of the night.  They were nearly invisible,
cloaked in dark robes and hoods as they were, and would have escaped all
notice had Lanion not slowed his steps suddenly to signal something was not
right.

   "Now," Methaniel suddenly breathed into her ear.

   Ahma pulled her wings back and quickly handed the lantern to the Master.
He took hold of the chain it hung by and twirled it several times over his
head before launching it forward, his powerful arms pumping and bulging as
he put all his considerable might behind the hurl.  It smashed at the feet
of the men, exploding as the glass shattered and the oil burst outward,
ignited by the fire.  It doused over their dark cloaks, igniting and
catching up trailing garments.

   The men screamed in shock and surprise, jumping and dancing about as
they flailed wildly, trying to pull off their flaming clothes or diving
into the snow and rolling about frantically in an attempt to snuff them
out.

   "The gate, Lanion!" Methaniel cried urgently.  The horse charged
forward, his head bent low and his ears tucked back against his head.  A
gasp caught in Ahma's throat as the looming gate hurtled toward them,
promising a brutal and jarring impact.

   At the last moment, as the horse leapt through the flames and his speed
carried him through the licking tendrils of fire before they could do harm,
Lanion reared back, neighing sharply.  He kicked out with his front legs,
his hooves plunging wildly and crashing into the gate with all twelve
hundred pounds of muscled might behind them.  The lock on the gate
shattered easily under the grievous blow, and the gates swung wide.  The
nobleman upon his back grinned victoriously as Lanion settled back onto
four legs and plunged past the Manor gates.

   Ahma gasped as they jerked forward and Lanion charged down the road
looping from the Manor's hilltop down into the main city.  Her heart leapt
into her throat.  So fast he was!  Ahma knew the Nehlendeim's reputation of
being swift mounts surpassing any others, especially ones of their great
statures, but had never thought such quick movement possibly from such a
massive beast.  The dark night around them blended into a dizzying swirl of
movement and the stars overhead seemed to streak past.

   They sped up the avenue and into the capitol city itself.  The horse's
feet were still shod with silver shoes that clinked against the cobble
stones and kicked up a shower of sparks.  The looming buildings of the
industrious mountain city wrapped about them as Methaniel guided his horse
into the heart of the city.  He knew the easiest escape routes would be
watched and guarded, and so he drove them deeper into the winding maze of
streets in the city core, certain that he could work his way outward from
there.

   "Hold tightly to me.  Lanion will take us from the city and into the
wild," Methaniel whispered into Ahma's ears.  The young girl didn't argue,
whimpering softly, still not recovered from the shock of it all as she
pressed closer to the Master's broad chest.

   The charger turned quickly down a side alley as a cry went up several
yards ahead.  Methaniel rubbed his hands roughly along the horse's long
neck, urging him on as he clung tightly with his legs.  He had stopped
giving commands, trusting the horse's superior reflexes and intelligence,
knowing that Lanion could work them through the dense heart of the city and
back around to the northern part of the capitol, near the Royal Castle.  It
was a bold move, too bold, Methaniel hoped, to be considered as a sane
route of escape by his pursuers.

   And pursue him they did.  Shadowy men lurked all about the city, raising
a shout of alarm as the tell-tale horse, the only one of its kind in all
the Kingdom, raced across their path.  Methaniel would have worried that
word of his progress would spread through the city, but he was confident
that his trusty horses speed would outrun any report of his passing far
before it could do any harm.

   The market sprawling across the center of the city suddenly spread out
before them as Lanion came barreling out from one of the many winding
side-alleys of the city.  The horse ran unconcerned through a large
fruit-stand blocking his forward progress.  Methaniel put an arm firmly
around Ahma to protect the small frightened woman from the debris, shaking
his head as a large board scraped over his forehead.  He ignored the thin
leak of blood from the new cut on his forehead.

   Several of the shadowy men stood in the middle of the market, blocking
their way.  Blades gleamed in the torchlight of the market, clutched in
sickly pale fingers.  The nobleman narrowed his eyes at the group and
squeezed his legs tightly around his horse's side.

   The charger didn't hesitate even a moment, launching himself forward at
the group.  The cloaked forms tried to react, one even managing to raise
his sword, but it was too late.  The massive horse crashed into them,
sending two men flying back through the air and smacking into the ground.
The horse neighed his fury and lifted up, kicking out with his forelegs and
cracking through the sternum and ribs of the nearest man.  The warhorse
danced and shimmied, knocking another man from his feet.

   A hand suddenly reached up and gripped tightly around Ahma's wrist.  The
girl screamed, pulling frantically at her arm and wailing with fear. 
Methaniel reached down with one hand and grabbed the man by his face,
lifting him off the ground as his other hand wrenched the dagger from his
belt and plunged it into the cloaked man's throat.  The attacker gurgled,
his hand releasing Aham and going slack.  Methaniel pulled his dagger free
and dropped the limp body heavily to the ground.

   He caught the shift of another man several paces away on the horse's
other side, a sword poised to plunge into the horse's thick side as he
lunged forward.  Methaniel flipped the dagger at the man's face, the steel
point smashing through lip and teeth, slicing his tongue and thunking into
the back of his throat.  A gurgled scream rose and Methaniel kicked Lanion
into motion.  The warhorse fled from the market, hurtling at dangerous
speeds down the main street before turning down a side alley a moment
later.

   Methaniel glanced down at Ahma to be sure she was alright.  She shook
more than ever now and her eyes were shut, her face buried into the Masters
chest as she willed the nightmare to stop.  She seemed otherwise unhurt.

   The sounds of pursuit wafted on the wind blowing through his ears, men
shouting and scrambling to catch them and the clatter of many hooves
beating along the cobbled roads.  A crossbow bolt zipped past just above
his right shoulder and shattered on a wall ahead.  Methaniel grimaced and
squeezed his mount's sides with his legs, directing him down a narrow side
alley barely wide enough for the large horse to fit.

   Lanion carried them in a blur through the city and for the rest of their
desperate flight down the twisting street ways and alleys.  He darted and
turned, moving down one side alley and another, galloping desperately up a
main road before turning once more into the twisting labyrinth of narrow
back roads.  Methaniel guided his horse on a looping, turning path that for
all appearances seemed maddeningly random, all the while slowly and subtly
making his way north.  His plan seemed to be working, as the further north
they went and the more twists and turns they took, the more the signs of
pursuit died away, the hoof beats and shouts falling away behind them. 
Methaniel smiled with grim satisfaction.  He had to admit to himself, it
had been a massive risk, for his home was by no means close to the northern
Durinum gate, and he had risked further chance of being captured by taking
the more complex escape route through the city.  Luck had been with them to
have made it this far.  That the pair had escaped the ambush at the market
was due only to the underestimation of Lanion's ferocity, and more than a
little luck.

   Still, despite the lack of pursuit or watch put up for him this far
north he was taken aback upon finding the Northern gate open and manned
only by the regular guard.  A handful of nightly travelers were making
their way in and out of the city.

   Methaniel's instincts told him that the gate must be trapped, that
surely they could not be so stupid and sloppy as to allow any exit, even a
difficult to reach one, completely unprotected.  But he shook his head as
Lanion impatiently stamped at the ground, and loosed the horse, letting him
charge through the gate.  The single pair of night guards, a customary and
pathetic pre-caution that had nothing to do with the hunt for him, let out
a startled shout as Lanion ran through, charging past the gate and out into
the brief plain lands surrounding the Durinum Capitol.

   Now out of the city walls and fully exposed, the freezing wind whipped
over them, chilling and bitingly sharp.  Methaniel pulled the shaking Ahma
closer to him, wrapping an arm around her and keeping the other at the
horse's withers.  Her teeth chattered and her flesh felt like soft ice
against him, but he did his best to warm her and shelter her from the
whipping breeze.  The torchlight of the city faded behind and the
Nobleman's eyes adjusted to the guiding shine of the brilliant stars and
half moon.

   He hardly dared to believe that they had escaped.  Hardly dared to think
that they had passed the seemingly baited gate without incident.  The more
he thought of it, however, the more he wondered.  An unreasonably large
force had been set against him, from the soldiery invading his house and
its surroundings to the men lurking in waiting through the streets, the
small squad massed in the market and the doubtlessly even larger groups
guarding the southern and eastern gates, the gates closest to his estate.
Doubtless it seemed foolish that he should make for the northern gate, and
nearly impossible that he could slip through the ambushes and patrols along
the way.

   Lanion ran on through the night, tireless and focused, knowing somehow
in his sharp, intelligent mind that to slow would prove disastrous for his
Master.  Yet even without the pressing need, the night, the run, the open
land had caught him fast in its grip, and he joyously ran, his heart racing
and exhilarated at the wild gallop he made.

   Methaniel let the horse run, knowing than Lanion was wise enough to keep
them going in a straight line till he directed otherwise.  His mind worked
quickly through a number of possibilities.  He knew not who the cloaked,
hidden men were, but he felt certain that he would be unable to turn to his
King and Country for support.  This enemy that hunted him was too cunning,
too subtle.  They had infiltrated the city, burned his Manor down and
pursued him relentlessly without a single guard appearing in his defense.
Either they were skilled beyond compare at subterfuge and espionage, or...

   Or he had been betrayed from within.  Methaniel shuddered at the very
thought, unable to accept that someone within his country would do such a
thing to him.  He had served King and Country faithfully for as long as he
could recall, before he'd even reached his adulthood years.  Why would he
be betrayed?  And even as his mind ran through these things, it slid back
to the strange arrow that was even now tucked in his traveling pack.  Did
it too somehow play into these strange occurrences?  He did not see how it
couldn't.  The attacks on him had been persistent indeed.

   He pondered where to slip away to for the time being.  The southern
roads were out of the question.  They were doubtless watched even now, and
most certainly would be as soon as his pursuers had gathered themselves
enough to realize he had escaped.  They would expect him to circle around
the city and turn that way.

   For the time being, Methaniel let Lanion continue north.  The horse
carried them away from the city for another three hours, slowing to a
canter but still tirelessly bearing his riders on without complaint. 
Several times Methaniel reined the warhorse in and gazed at his
surroundings, getting his bearings while scanning for any sign of pursuit
at the same time.

   Ahma shifted in his arms, her feathers brushing against his side. 
Methaniel glanced down at the young girl, who seemed to have fallen asleep
for the moment.  Still she shivered and trembled, but she seemed to have
calmed some and adjusted slightly to the chill of the exposed night.  Her
face shone in the moonlight from the streaks of her tears.  The Nobleman
watched her for a long moment.  She seemed to have withered somehow in the
wake of the night's horror.

   And truly, so would he have but for the fact he had ever been a man of
action, his life steeped in violence for the last number of years.  He was
able to slip into the mind frame of a solder, telling himself today was
just another day of close calls and dangerous maneuvers.  His heart ached
for Ahma, for his men, for her brothers and all the gentle and good folk
that had been in his service.  But even more it burned, a fierce and
shining fire in his eyes that required retribution and vengeance for the
wrongs committed against the innocents who had simply been in the way of
the men who sought his death.  Those wronged would be avenged, he swore to
himself.  It was all that drove him now.

   But, he realized, that was not entirely true.  His eyes drifted down to
the woman pressed to him.  Ahma.  She alone had been spared from the greedy
hands that reached for him, cutting down all others in its way.  She, too,
would prove to be his salvation.

   His atonement.  Gazing upon her soft, flawless face, Methaniel swore
then that he would do all in his power to protect and preserve this gentle,
kind, loyal woman.  She had ever served his father, to the very end of his
days, and she had given him a piece of the dear man back in the brief days
that they had talked of him.

   Methaniel's silver eyes returned to the girl unbidden.  She was lovely,
flawless, beautiful beyond measure.  She had the face of a queen, of a
daughter of royalty, not of a humble servant.  And yet she had ever been
faithful and supportive to his father, and then to him after.  Even though
he had known her but briefly in his younger years, and spent even less time
with her these last few days, he knew her heart to be gentle and pure, and
her loyalty unwavering and sure.  He would protect her.  At least until he
could find her a place to live a quiet, peaceful life befitting her gentle
soul, and leave her in the safety and happiness that she deserved.  Surely
he could help her to a town where she could move on with her life.

   As the night reached its midpoint, the horse and his two riders came
upon a thicket of woods stretching at the foot of the Northern Mountain
Pass.  Lanion slowed to a trot, and then a walk as the trees surrounded
them, the snow laden branches arching overhead to blot out some of the
starlight.  Methaniel waited for his eyes to adjust before leading the
horse further into the woods.  Ahma suddenly jumped,yelping sharply and
jerking back, her wings flapping as she came out of her frightful dream and
into an equally frightening reality.

   "Calm," Methaniel whispered to her, his voice seeming loud in the hush
of the forest.  He gently caressed her hair till her eyes focused dazedly
upon him, adjusting to the low visibility.

   "We are safe, for the moment.  We have fled from the city and we are in
the wild.  You are alright." He soothed.  Ahma gazed at him
uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then her eyes began to shine with
moisture as the full weight of the night finally came crashing onto her.

   She remained silent for a long time.  The horse continued forward at a
slow but steady pace and Master held her close.  Her eyes gazed into the
darkness, hollow and lost and wet with tearful memories.  Even the freezing
night air didn't faze her, hardly even registering in her senses.

   Her mind was shocked and raw.  The torment of memories sucked away any
will she had.  It was the same, all over again.  Mother and Father had died
all over again in her mind.  It was only due to her brother's love and
refusal to let her die that she had continued living.  Her brothers...they
had saved her again from a horrible fire...only they hadn't, had they?  She
could only feel one body close to her, and it was far larger than either of
her brothers had been.  And she sat upon a horse instead of dangling
between the two of them as they labored to fly her to safety.  It was all
wrong...confusion swam through Ahma's mind for a moment, a swirl of flames
and blood and cries for mercy.  It all finally came into perfect,
heart-breaking clarity as Master Methaniel called our Lanion's name.  Her
brothers, dead.  Her home, destroyed.  The terror of the flight from
Durinum...she was chilled to the bone, so cold that she ached all over. 
Her lips and ears felt numb.  A violent shiver came over her.

   Methaniel pressed his arm more firmly to her body.  Though he too was
cold, his meager warmth seemed to radiate strongly against her through
their clothes.  She thought perhaps she should not be so close to him; it
seemed somewhat inappropriate for a servant to be so near her Master, but
she doubted he would let her go.  He seemed intent on keeping her near, and
as cold as she was, she was hardly going to argue with that notion.

   She wondered in the back of her mind what happened to her friends at the
Manor.  Given the severity of the attack, most of them probably perished.
Given the loss of her brothers, it was a small blow on top of many others.
The cold served to numb her pain and her thoughts.  She was focusing most
of her energy on how cold she was; it was a far better misery than dwelling
on her thoughts.

   The Master lightly tapped the horse with his foot, turning him to the
right.  Lanion plodded forward, his hoof falls muffled softly by the snow
packed on the ground.

   "Winter is closing, fast...it will be two days, three perhaps before its
full embrace is upon us."

   After several moments they came upon a clearing.  He dismounted and
helped Ahma off the horses back, then patted Lanion's side affectionately.
"Good boy, Lanion.  You did well.  Very good.  Go find something to chew on
before you rest."

   Lanion snorted loudly and tossed his glistening mane, then walked slowly
toward a grouping of trees at the edge of the clearing and nosed at their
base, trying to find some remnant of old grass below the snowfall.

   Methaniel turned his attention to the young Wingling girl, gazing down
at her as he lifted one large hand to rub his jaw.  "We're going to have to
stay here tonight, Ahma.  I'm not sure what to do yet, but we have to lay
low till daylight, at the least.  I need some time to think."

   Ahma nodded numbly, gazing into nothingness.

   Methaniel's hand rested suddenly upon her shoulder, the rough leather of
his riding gloves stiff from the cold.  "Are you okay, Ahma?"

   Ahma turned her eyes up to his.  Her great brown orbs shimmered softly
with unshed tears, and red laced through their whites.  She swallowed
softly and realized how dry her mouth was.  "I'm okay," she croaked.

   "Be strong.  We'll get through this," he assured her.  "We have to keep
an even head and decide what must be done.  We do not have much time to
come to a decision.  Come, let us move under the trees.  The snow is
thinner there."

   Ahma followed him silently as he walked to the trees just to the left of
where Lanion nosed.  She wrapped her arms and her wings tightly about her,
trying to chase off the chill as best she could and find some measure of
warmth.  She shook still.  Methaniel reached down and brushed the snow
under the tree to the side, doing his best to push and shift it aside to
make a semi-dry patch of ground under the tree.

   Both of them sank down gratefully, ignoring the rough bark pressing into
their backs as they leaned against the tree.

   The Wingling girl drew her knees up to her bosom, shivering softly as
she tuckered her feet into her gown.  She longed for a coat, a cloak,
anything to keep warm by.

   "What has happened?" she whispered softly.

   Methaniel sighed, shutting his eyes as he shrugged slightly.  "I am not
sure...I can only assume that I have caught the attention of
someone...someone powerful.  They have tried to kill me, thrice now, and
each time they become ever bolder and more persistant."

   "They...they're the same people who attacked when you arrived back home,
aren't they?"

   "I believe so."

   Ahma shivered uncomfortably, feeling miserable and lost.

   "Come here," Methaniel said softly as he put and arm around her and
gently pulled her closer.  Her gaze slid up to his face with great wide
eyes.

   "Master?"

   "We have no cloaks, no coats, no thick clothing," Methaniel pointed out.
"We may freeze to death tonight..."at these words, she began to shake even
harder, "But the more body heat we share the better our chances of
survival. I have no tinder box or flint, and without one the wood is
doubtlessly too damp from the snow to catch by itself.  This is the only
way."

   Ahma nodded slowly and sank against him, pulling one wing around to
cover the both of them.  She felt the Master sigh softly and his muscles
untense slightly.  His arms rubbed at her shoulder gently, trying to help
return circulation and warmth.  She could hardly feel his touch for how
cold she was.

   Several moments later, Lanion shuffled up to them.  He shifted on his
legs for a moment before sinking down to the ground in front of them, his
large body pressing against them and sharing his warmth.  Methaniel smiled
and reached out one arm to scratch behind the horse's ear.  Lanion turned
one eye to catch Methaniel in his equine stare.

   Ahma was lost in thought, trying to come to terms with the recent trauma
of having her home and friends snatched and burned away, as well as the
horrible resurfacing memories of her childhood.  Her heart pounded as she
struggled to keep calm and coherent.  She would be nothing but a hinderance
to Master Methaniel if she were a panicking mess, and while she wasn't sure
she could do anything to help him, he had saved her life by bringing her
along in his flight from Durinum, and she would certainly try to assist
him.

   "I do not think we can stay upon the mountain," Methaniel said suddenly.

   Ahma glanced up at him, shivering and huddled against the Master and
Lanion for warmth.  "What do you mean, Master?"

   "I believe those who seek my life are, at the least, able to operate
within Durinum without fear of reprisal or interference from guards and
royal authority.  Why this is, I do not know.  It is not important, just
now.  But I think it likely that they may be able to do this just as well
throughout all of the Kingdom, and not just the capitol.  I do not know if
there is anywhere within the borders of the Durinum lands that we can count
ourselves safe."

   Methaniel fell silent, thinking as quickly as he could.  He needed to
make a decision, for the longer they bided they stayed in one place without
a clear plan, the easier it would be for those who hunted him to close in
on them.  He was convinced now that they had to flee the lands of Durinum,
to get out of the mountains.

   But how to do that?  He did not trust the southern roads.  They had been
allowed to escape through the north gate far too easily...he had known the
moment they passed through it was a trap.  Likely, they sought to draw him
into the open, thinking he would take the southern route to escape.  They
likely lay in ambush along the way even now.  If not along the southern
Mesenla road, then at Stonefall Gorge just southwest of that, where he
would be forced into an area they could easily trap him.  They intended to
coral him, for he honestly only had one other option.

   The north.  The only other true way for him to flee off the mountain. 
He would have to cut north through the Northern Pass and deeper into the
mountains, and then follow the largely forgotten eastern trail till it
looped around south and began its downward climb and emptied out of the
mountains and into the flatlands the neutral land at the foot of the
Durinum mountain chains and the tribelands of the Naemer to the east, and
the city-states of Belingor further south.

   The eastern, and even more so the northern reaches of the mountain were
a hard and punishing land.  They were almost impossible to traverse, with
little in the way of resources and even less in the way of settlement.  Few
knew of the pass's very existence, as it was so treacherous it was only
traveled by the most desperate of people.  The most desperate, or the most
foolish.  The only reason he even knew of its existence was because of his
military experience, his station as a commander in the Durinum royal army
having given him access to the most detailed and up to date of maps.  It
was a wild, unconquered reach of the mountains, with even harsher weather
than Durinum suffered.  And with winter fast approaching, it would be a
nigh on suicidal journey.

   Of course, death was equally as sure should he turn south, or remain in
Durinum lands.  At least if he turned north, he had the smallest glimmering
of a hope.  And with hope, Methaniel would push himself stubbornly beyond
any obstacle.  The mountains would prove treacherous and difficult for him,
and for Lanion, and truly any ordinary horse would never have been able to
navigate the uneven, sloping, rocky paths and passages of the mountains. 
But then, Lanion was far from ordinary, in any respects.

   And what of Ahma?  He glanced down at her, his eyes playing over her
pale face.  Could she possibly make such a journey?  And would she even
want to?  No, he thought to himself.  He couldn't possibly endanger her so,
especially after all she had already been through.

   "Ahma?" he spoke.

   "Yes, Master?" she said through chattering teeth.  He pulled his arms
closer around her.

   "I will leave this land.  But I cannot do this without the proper
supplies.  I...I do not think that I can show my face in Durinum without
being recognized or watched."

   "Okay?" Ahma said hesitantly.

   Methaniel swallowed.  "I know that what I ask will put you into great
danger...and if you are not willing to do this, I understand; this is a
request, not an order.  Would you go into the city tomorrow and buy a list
of supplies for me if I provide you with the coin?"

   Ahma didn't speak for a moment, thinking it through.  He was right, it
would be dangerous.  There was a risk someone might recognize her as a
servant, or worse, believe her a slave, and apprehend her.  There were
precious few free Winglings in Durinum these days.  But it would be far
safer for her than it would be for Master Methaniel.  The searching
attackers would likely recognize him immediately.  She had a far greater
chance of slipping in unnoticed.

   "I will do it," she nodded.

   Methaniel let out a soft sigh and shut his eyes once more.  "Thank you.
As soon as we get the supplies, I will try to find some way to get you to a
village where you can start a new life.  I will do this before I leave the
land, I promise."

   "Leave the land?" Ahma asked softly.

   "Yes," Methaniel nodded.  "It is as I said, I do not think I can stay
here without these men who pursue me noticing my presence.  The best thing
I can do is to slip off the mountain and out of their grip.  I will decide
what to do beyond this when I can breath a little easier."

   Ahma nodded, resting her head against his chest.  She felt numb inside.
He was leaving her?  She did not want that.  She did not want to serve
another Master, in another estate.  Master Methaniel's land had been her
home.

   "Do you think you can find a house that will take me?  I know many
places do not encourage Wingling servants."

   "Servant?" Methaniel repeated, then smiled softly.  "No, Ahma.  I won't
be taking you to serve in another house.  I will provide you with enough
money to live off of.  You will be free to do as you like."

   "Master?" she said softly as she turned her gaze up to him.

   "This is something we should worry about later.  For now, we need to
rest," Methaniel said quietly.

   "Very well, Master," Ahma murmured, and laid her head back on his chest.

   She would be free?  What did she know about freedom?  She had been
working as a servant for years...it was almost all that she knew how to do.
And she did not want to leave Master Methaniel...

   It was all a bad dream, or so she told herself as she squeezed her eyes
shut.  Perhaps, in sleeping, it would all go away, and she would find
herself waking to the world she knew and understand.  She told herself this
repeatedly in her head as she drifted into a cold, restless blackness.

   End Ch.  5

   This took awhile for me to get to, but I think it turned out pretty
well. More excitement and adventure to come, so stay tuned, and please let
me know what you all think!

   All comments questions or critiques should be sent to
Crouching_Buddha2000@yahoo.com
   


  
Rising Ch. 5