He didn�t know very much about the sisters of the Tan U Tae. It was common knowledge that they possessed some kind of magical ability that effects the environment.
Naturally that made them the enemy of the First Kingdom. He had been raised to hate magic and those who wielded it, but he found his loyalties were easily changed. He couldn�t find it in his heart to hate the Shyra. They hadn�t known each other terribly long, but her eyes revealed her heart without reservation. She had good intensions. He had no doubt.
She was uncomfortable around him, though, unfortunately. He sorely regretted bickering with her after seeing her lying there so vulnerable. It had been a bit of a shock to him, before she had been practically sweating power and strength. The way she had killed those men, the look in her eyes when she drew back before the final attack had been chilling. He should have been frightened; he should have thought she was a cold blooded killer. But he didn�t.
The path abruptly ended. The bush thinned to short dry grass and then to puddle pocked dirt: Almberry Highway. He had thought he would be prepared for the bloody scene that they had so hastily escaped. His fear for the Shyra had momentarily erased all thoughts of that morning.
The sunlight gave the spectacle a more gruesome appearance. Vomit flamed in his throat and he had to fight to keep himself from running back into the forest.
Quivern took a deep breath, concentrating on the little flame of anger that he always kept locked in his heart. It was the only way he could think to control himself. Meticulously he searched the blood soaked ground for the sword. His eyes avoided the bodies though, despite his urging his feet wouldn�t go anywhere near Darien�s.
The shame returned and ripped at his heart. He felt as if he were in deep water, the pressure giving him a headache. His rage mixed with sorrow and the combined force destroyed his resolve. His legs gave out and he fell to the red dust on his knees.
Yesterday seemed eons away. The troubles his parents had created for him seemed little more then trifles now.
Quivern�s arms shook with the effort to hold him up. His heart was beating frantically in his chest. Of their own volition Quivern�s eyes rose to view Darien�s body. He had laid it out respectfully only a short while ago. Darien�s hands were folded neatly over his chest and he had used a few coins to keep his friend�s eyes closed.
�He died for the balance, there is no nobler end.� The Shyra�s voice was even more beautiful then usual. The way she whispered the words reverently sent arrows shooting into his heart. He turned his head away. He could not face her.
�He died in vain, Shyra.� He held up one of his hands. It trembled and shook. He studied the veins running from his fingers into his wrist. They looked the same as they had yesterday, but they were not. Now they were stained, stained in vain.
Her dragon hide armor creaked as she sat down in the dust next to him. Her hands were small and looked delicate, but he knew them to be powerful tools. �How do you live with it?� He carefully touched on off her short fingers with his own.
She sighed impatiently. She was uncomfortable with him but she never showed it like this. There must be something else. �I am not a murderer, Quivern.� She stated it plainly.
He resisted the urge to scoff her remark. How could she say that when she knew he had watched her kill these men. �Am I?� He asked instead.
The Shyra shook her head solemnly. She had no reservations about looking at the massacre. Her gaze scanned it continually. One more tell tale sign that she was used to carnage. �You are crazy. My hands are stained with that man�s blood, Shyra.�
She stood and staggered off towards the bushes on the opposite side of the highway. She picked through the grass and seedlings. She was listening though, something about the way her face remained blank and calm told him she was thinking.
With her upper body completely immersed in a leafy bush she finally spoke.
�Quivern, when you killed that man did you have a reason?�
Quivern answered without hesitation. �Yes.�
She straitened, a triumphant expression lighting her face. He hadn�t noticed until that moment that she had looked very, very tense. Now she looked relieved and suddenly relaxed. Her arm drew the golden sword out of the bush and she inspected the blade carefully before she slid it into the ornate sheath at her hip. �Was it a good reason?�
The quirk in her voice, the playful note in her tone made him smile. How could she do that? Make light of such a serious issue. He reviewed the struggle he had had with the nameless soldier. He remembered the ugly glint in the man�s eyes the way his lip lifted in a sneer. He had wanted to kill Quivern. �I did not want to kill him, Shyra.�
�It does not matter if you wanted to kill or not. He did not give you that choice.�
�What?�
�That soldier wanted to kill you. He would have stopped at nothing. You were dead to the world the moment he attacked.� She sounded as if she had said this before. �As was he. You see. In combat, both fighters are robbed of their lives and only one can retrieve it. That soldier wanted to retrieve his so that he could use it to kill again. Even worse; his goal was to disrupt the balance. On the other hand, you would have used your life to defend others and to help me preserve the balance. It is clear that your only choice was to eliminate his evil intentions by taking back your life before he could take his. You did not make the choice best for yourself but also the choice best for the earth and myself.� She said matter of fact.
He�d never looked at fighting that way before. He�d never meet in mortal danger like that. But now that she voiced it, it occurred to him that it made a lot of sense. �Self defense.� He whispered. As comforting as the idea of his choice to help the earth sounded he knew that he had killed that man to keep himself alive. �It does not matter, Shyra. I am doomed to have to sentence people to their deaths someday. I feel humbled by the experience of carrying out my first execution with my own hands.� He meant ever word too. Someday he would rule, perhaps not on the thrown of the First Kingdom but at least as a Duke. His heritage carried with it many deaths. His ancestors had been brutal killers. He would not follow in their footsteps. Like his father he would uphold the nobility of his title and at the same time serve the people like they ought to be.
Quivern suddenly stiffened. What was he thinking? �What have you done to me?� He looked up at the Shyra.
She smiled a coy, attractive smile. �You middle planet people are so confusing.� he turned then and took a deep breath her shoulder rose and fell. She had taken that breath for the pure joy of breathing.
A bush to the side of the road rusted and Quivern jumped to his feet, pulling the short sword out of the scabbard on his back. The Shyra raised and arm in front of him to ward him off.
Bjover waddled out onto the highway, a cold wind preceding him. �Shyra.� He said it apologetically then stepped aside laving the path he had come down open.
Three tall, elegant and well-armed women stepped out it the woods. Their eyes never left the woman standing beside him.
