Prologue:
Dungurra was a rather small provincial town on the sea before the Barrier fell. The economy of the town had been supported by fishing, and very occasional trade with the nomadic people of the Desert of Destruction. In fact, it was set so close to the Desert, that within a few hours sail north, you�d see only the high, unscaleable cliffs of the Desert shoreline. And then, in times past, you�d reach the Barrier, and you couldn�t sail any further north anyway. So Dungurra wasn�t exactly a big tourist destination, perched on the edge of civilization, the last port before the Desert and the Barrier, and the edge of the world.
Then the Barrier fell.
And the Light came.
For two months the light streamed through the sky, aiming north. It was midway down in the sky, to the north of the town of Dungurra, and since it wasn�t over them, or pointing at them, the folks of Dungurra didn�t worry much.
Until the earthshakes and tidalwaves came.
Fortunately, the town�s harbor was well sheltered by a spur of land called simply �The Headland�. The waves turned the curved spit protecting the bay into an island, sinking the northern side that connected it to the mainland, but they also wiped out some of the more treacherous shoals in the southern pass into the bay, and for this the people were grateful. With their improved harbor, Dungurra could manage more fishing. But when word finally came about the significance of these events, the town was even happier.
With the Barrier down, Dungurra was suddenly the last port for the journey north to the Demon Peninsula, or the first stop south for ships from the Demon Peninsula. Dungurra boomed with trade. The farmsteads in outlying areas suddenly were rich plantations, being the last and first source of fresh food for the hundreds of ships sailing north or south. As the first south port, Dungurra got a chance to see all of the wondrous goods of the kingdoms of the Demon Peninsula before anyone else. And the town drew merchants, entrepreneurs, restauranteurs, mercenaries, politicians, and adventurers.
And Mazoku.
The first attack by a mad Mazoku leading a group of zombified beastmen shocked and horrified the people of Dungurra. Fortunately, a sizeable force of out-of-work mercenaries, on their way north looking for employment, were in the town, and they managed to mostly repel the monsters. There was a great deal of damage, but, thanks to several gentlemen with odd accents from the north who�d recently developed something called �property insurance� and forced most of the merchants of town buy into it, the people were well able to rebuild, using money claimed from the �insurance agents�. Those gentlemen were unfortunately unprepared for the amount of claimage they received from the attack, and went out of business shortly afterward. More knowledgeable visitors from the north who heard the tale often remarked on Dungurra�s luck in ousting organized crime, but the townsfolk never quite understood the congratulations.
The next attack came nearly two years after the earthshakes and waves changed Dungurra�s fortunes. A single Mazoku, powerful and angry, followed a pair of adventurers to the town. Bravely, the two accepted the challenge of the monster, and cleverly tricked it out of town. The people of Dungurra were already prepared to hail them as heroes, since they managed to keep the fight from causing too much damage, but then the young red-headed woman sacrificed herself, so they say, to destroy the monster. The devastation of the final face off leveled a hill, sunk a valley, and created a new lake where one hadn�t existed before.
Grateful that their town was spared, and ever impressed with both the adventurers� abilities in battle and magic, which was very new to the town, and with their heroism, Dungurra�s people immediately built a monument as a gravesite for the deceased young sorceress. They built it near the lake, on the edge of a copse of trees that survived the battle. They also took care of the young man, the sorceress�s partner, who was sorely wounded and in shock over losing her. Dungurra�s people treated him well, tried to ease his grief, and paid out of the Town Council funds for his passage back to his home in the Demon Peninsula.
With the hustle and bustle of being a boom town, Dungurra didn�t remember the incident for long, despite the respect with which they�d treated the dead young sorceress and her partner, the tall blond swordsman. Every day was busy for Dungurra, and though the area around the monument to the red-headed heroine became a combination picnic-park and graveyard, the purpose of the monument was but a vague memory within only a few years.
Chapter One:
Irena Versein�s Curio Shop was just up Hill Street from the corner of Hill and Main. Main Street ran right down to the wharves of Dungurra, where the ships from South and North docked and unloaded their cargoes. It made an easy trek from a ship to the shop, a trek that Irena made on a fairly regular basis. Her shop specialized in unique and rare items, mostly from the Demon Peninsula. Just last season, a shipment of mediocre gems allowed Irena to create a craze for �magical protective jewels�. No one knew for sure if the pretty gems now gracing most of the town�s homes were really magical or not, but a savvy businessperson like Irena played up the mystery, then the demand, and rode that fad to a nice profit.
As for other business, not as many people realized that some of the things Irena sold were in Ceipheed-honest fact magical. Even fewer realized the wealth of sheer information that Irena held, a valuable commodity for the many adventurers and fortune-seekers passing through Dungurra headed north or south. Merchants knew Irena had a standing interest in obscure texts, untranslatable maps, tidbits of rumor and legends. Travelers in the know knew to go to Irena for hints, information, and sometimes even outright directions to their goals. She bought the texts for ridiculous bargains, and sold her information at a high price, and profited far more than the cramped little shop and the cramped apartment above could ever evidence.
Irena herself wasn�t much of a mixer, though when greeted on the street, she always responded pleasantly. She had a few friends, though not one could satisfy the curious with the name of her hometown, or her tastes, or even her age. She�d simply appeared in town one day, carrying a sack of goods. She bought the building outright from its previous owners with gold coinage from all over the world, opened her store, and settled in. Dungurra, like most small towns, was desperately curious about the young woman, but as a growing city, it didn�t have the time to pry. At most, people commented proudly that now Dungurra had a magic shop, just like the cities North, and left it for the most part at that.
This particular fall morning found Irena just waking from bed. She stretched and went to the mirror. Picking up a brush, she began to groom her long chocolate-brown tresses. A quick mutter and her eyes shined a pleasant hazel color. She twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head, and dressed for the day.
Her blue skirts swirled around her ankles as she trotted down the back stairs into her office. She barely glanced at the desk. No major cargoes were due today, so she could skip her usual trip to the wharves, and treat herself to a nice breakfast up the street at the Poor Monk Inn. Tossing a light gray jacket over her white blouse and blue bodice, she left her building through the back door and walked out into the street.
Force of habit caused her to glance down to the harbor. Irena noticed a single schooner entering the protected bay, a sea-crosser from the looks of it, but she paid it little mind. Her nose already twitched with the fine smells emanating from Jenny�s excellent kitchen at the Poor Monk Inn. A nice moderate breakfast would start the day nicely.
Chapter Two:
From the deck of the sea schooner, the young man peered at the wharves and buildings of Dungurra. He�d spent the last five years wandering the world, seeing sights no other had seen. He�d traveled farther than anyone from the Demon Peninsula could have dreamed, and in that journey, he�d both found and lost his heart�s desires. Now, he made his way home, or rather, to those lands he considered home, to return an item and pick up his life as much as he may. The bargain he�d made had both taken his burdens and given him new ones. He hoped, faintly, that they�d not prove as heavy as he feared.
The captain of the schooner had agreed to transport him to Dungurra for a nominal fee, but would not accept a commission to sail further north. The young man had to try and find another ship to take him back to the Demon Peninsula, though the schooner captain assured him that Dungurra was an excellent place to find passage. He�d also recommended an inn, being familiar with the town. The young man intended to take a room at the Poor Monk as soon as they docked.
The crew was pleased with the speed of the journey they�d made from the far Western continent. They�d been nearly doomed by poor winds and tides on that edge of the world when the young man had booked passage. His skills with magic had created winds when none natural would oblige them. Still, he made the crew nervous. They didn�t try to make a friend of this young man with his haunted sea-colored eyes and his brown-purple hair. Dragon-touched, they whispered to each other.
If only they knew. The bargain with the dragon-priests of the Earth Dragon King freed him from one burden, but gave him another. Had someone told him years ago that he would become a Dragon Knight, he�d have actually laughed out loud. But now�..
He wiped a hand on his black trousers, palm sweaty with the worry that he�d not be free to live, but that some crisis would arise, and he�d be forced to act. The hair that hung over the right of his face hung longer in the back, tied in a tail and beyond his shoulders. He�d not worn his hair this long ever before, but he secretly reveled in it. It brushed the collar of his cream shirt and the neck of his faithful pale gray cloak, clasped with the red stone he�d never give up. He left the sleeves down, aware that his fair skin would burn in the sun over the sea, but had he rolled them up, the sinuous green tattoos of the Earth Dragon King that now curled around his forearms would seem to writhe in the light. He was not as young as most people took him for. The years of adventures and quest had hardened him in ways few would understand, but if one were to look into his eyes too long, one might perceive things one really didn�t want to know.
As the dock neared, the young man searched out the captain, handing over the last of his passage fee. The captain thought to refuse, but the Dragon Knight had been determined to honor the bargain down to the last letter, so the captain dared not. The Knight had been like a luck charm - calling winds, healing sick or injured crew. Never had the journey across the sea gone so quickly or easily. It would be a shame to anger the Knight, if his offensive magic was as strong as his useful magic.
The helmsman bought the ship to a gentle stop at the wharf, and as ropes were tossed to mooring, the gangplank slid down to touch the stone. The young man stepped easily down from the ship, slinging his satchel over his back and feeling again the pull of Earth. He didn�t so much as stagger as he strode off into the town. The helmsman gave the captain a look of surprise. Surely two months at sea would affect a man�s stride.
The captain shook his head. �The Earth is his element. I wager he couldn�t stagger if he wanted to.�
Chapter Three:
Irena sipped the last of her tea. Jenny�s breakfast was as good as expected. A few eggs, some bacon and toast, a bit of sausage, and fine tea really hit the spot in the mornings. Somehow, a simple moderate breakfast satisfied her best these days. Stretching, she left some coins on the table, and waved to the staff as she made her way out. Irena would open the shop and cook the books for a while, to see what sort of day it was. If slow, she might close up again and spend some time wandering, or maybe gossiping with Jenny and the waitresses.
She didn�t notice the young man as he walked up the street. By the time he was clearly visible, Irena was unlocking the door to her shop. She felt a prickle of presentiment along her neck, and glanced back, only to see the back of a young man as he entered the Poor Monk. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she began lifting the shades of the shop windows. She�d not used much magic in several years, other than the simple illusion every morning. Maybe the items in her shop were working on her. She really ought to get a few of the Mazoku relics out of there.
The young man glanced around the inn. The Poor Monk was as respectable as the captain had promised. To the right were tables, a few locals taking their morning meal there. To the left was a large staircase up to the rooms. Ahead, a friendly looking man was stationed behind a counter. The young man moved to make rooming arrangements.
�A room, preferably single, please.�
The innkeeper smiled. �And for how long, good sir?�
�Indefinate. I mean to book passage north as soon as possible.�
�Well, we�re not expecting anything northbound for near a week, though a couple south bound should be by in a couple of days. Here you are - a front corner room, right next to the baths. Would you be wanting a meal?�
The young man nodded. �Do you have coffee?�
�Oh yes! That northern drink is all the rage. Just let the waitress know that�s what you�d prefer. Sign here, please, sir.�
The young man leaned over the book and wrote Zel Stonewords.
A short time later, he finished the last bit of coffee in his mug. The meal had been more than satisfactory, and though the coffee was not what he considered the best beans, it had hit the spot after two months at sea. Zel smiled a little as the waitress cleared the plate. He�d noticed her and her cohorts watching him. There was a time when such stares would have bothered him a great deal. Little did he know some of those past stares had been as admiring as these current ones. �Is there anything of interest in the area a visitor shouldn�t miss?� he asked politely. �It seems I�ll be here a few days.�
The waitress simpered. This fellow was handsome with a capital H. All the girls were peeking at him. �Well, we�ve got a fine range of shops about the area. There�s a little museum with some relics down by the water. Oh, and you might like Savior Park, if you like pretty bits of wilderness.�
Zel nodded, filing the information away for later reference. He handed the girl a few coins for the meal, and headed upstairs to his room.
The room held a few simple furnishings. A bed, a table with two chairs, and a closet. The window overlooked Hill Street. He noticed the little shop diagonally across the street. The window proclaimed it as �The Curio Shop� and a familiar six-pointed star was carved into the sign over the door. Maybe he�d check it out later. Unhooking his sword from his belt, he laid it on the table and stretched out on the bed. For the first time in two months, he didn�t feel the waves under him. It was restful enough that he dozed off.
Chapter Four:
Irena sighed. Not much of a day at work today. The locals knew that the best time to stop by was right after a cargo ship made a delivery, so no one came in today. But, since it had been so slow today, it couldn�t hurt to knock off a bit early.
She locked the front door and pulled the shades. A quick shuffling of papers cleaned up the counter, and she left the books on her desk in the back office as she headed up the stairs to her living quarters.
The main room above the shop appeared snug and comfortable. A small cooking area stood against one wall, opposite a brace of shelves containing books that some Northern scholars had spent lifetimes speculating about. Irena would never sell these books, this private collection. Next to the egress of the stairwell was a door to her small bedroom. The only item of significance in there, besides the bed, sat under a small window framing a boring view of an alley. The chest sitting under the window gleamed in the faint light working its way through the panes of glass. It was made of highly polished wood, with runes and glyphs carved along its edges. With a sense of odd nostalgia, Irena wandered over to the chest and laid her hand on the lid. She whispered a complicated series of unlocking spells, and lifted the lid.
Topmost in the chest lay a smaller, velvet-lined box. It held four identical items of power and obscurity. Irena�s fingers trailed over the box, but she didn�t open it. Beneath the velvet-lined box were folded items of clothing that Northerners would recognize as the common �uniform� of a successful sorceress. Magenta tunic and tights were carefully folded with sachets of herbs. A black leather cloak with jeweled shoulder-guards lay beneath that, cleaned and mended after one last battle. A pouch of jewelry and random coins, saved for their sentimental value, was stuck off to one side of the chest.
Irena reached under the back of the cloak, her familiar fingers finding the latch to a secret compartment. Despite all the wealth stored under this roof, this one compartment contained her most treasured possession. She retrieved the tiny black box and opened it carefully.
Someone peering over her shoulder might expect a stunning jewel, or a perhaps a medallion of some sort. But the only thing contained in that hidden box was a simple ring of braided lavender wires. Yet Irena treated it as if it were the most precious item in the world. Sighing, she slipped the ring on her finger, gently caressing it with her other hand. For nearly seven years she wore this ring hidden under her gloves. But lately she kept it hidden away, her hope dead after so many years. Only fitting since she herself was basically dead.
With another sad sigh, Irena slipped off the ring, and replaced it in its hidden space. The chest was closed, and locking spells whispered over it. Rising, Irena stretched her arms over her head and considered her options. She could have a bath, or a meal, then maybe curl up with a good book. She had few wants anymore. Food didn�t compel her as it once did - her appetite had waned with her lack of magic-use. She knew all her books by heart. She was even as wealthy in this career as her last, enough that wandering and treasure hunting lost their appeal. She�d cleaned out every cache in the area in her first few months of residence anyway. Crossing to her front windows in the main room, she observed a few locals headed into the Poor Monk. Perhaps some socializing would lift this odd mood.
Discarding the notion of changing, she trotted down the stairs again and left her building through the rear again, adding a protection spell to the lock. Through the alley and into the street, she waved at a few more locals heading in the same direction.
�The lads play tonight, Irena!� One fellow called to her. She nodded in acknowledgement. Several local boys played lively music in the common room of the Poor Monk two times a month. She began to anticipate some good music, a measure of ale, and some friendly gossip. Irena was satisfied with her current life. Sure, it wasn�t as exciting, but not nearly as dangerous. She�d never lose the people of Dungurra the way she�d lost so many in her life.
Chapter Five:
Zel woke to pleasant laughter and the sound of music. His stomach growled and he wondered if he could still get a meal. Sometimes, he forgot to pay attention to his body. He hadn�t had to for so long. Ten years. The words rippled through his mind. Shaking his head, he resisted the chill that accompanied the thought. No longer did he have to hide his face. No longer did townspeople stare or point, or tighten grips around pitchforks. On the other hand, he couldn�t take a blow the same way anymore, though he healed almost as fast. Nor did his speed create a blur of gale-force wind. Yet the advantages of carrying a piece of the Earth Dragon King made up for lost abilities. The fact that he could look in a mirror without flinching again, that he could smile at a woman, that his palms were calloused and his face tanned, gladdened his heart. And soon, soon he�d be back in his homeland. He�d seek out the one woman who laughed through his dreams, grinning with devil-may-care eyes, and he�d be able to smile back, and, if he was very, very lucky, take her into his arms.
He kept the thought that he may have already lost her to another squashed deep down in his mind.
No promises had been made. He hadn�t even given her one idea of his devotion. But, now, looking into a mirror with a wry half-smile on his lips, he couldn�t help but hope. Maybe this was just a new quest to replace the old. But it also might be the quest that could define the rest of his life.
Zel flipped open his satchel and pulled out a blue shirt. He shouldn�t have slept in the cream one, but it needed a wash anyway. Maybe the inn offered laundry services as well. He�d have to remember to check. He pulled the thong out of his ponytail and shook out his hair. It still gave him a certain sense of glee to pull a regular brush out of his bag, rather than a jeweler�s tools.
Changed and combed, he left the room, leaving a minor locking spell on the door. He rarely bothered with keys, since any lock can be picked, as he well knew himself, but even a small crack in the spell would alert him to a problem. He also left his sword behind. Though he found that the strength of the earth made up for the strength of a golem (that those two weren�t entirely different never crossed his mind), his magic was sufficient. Down the stairs, he found a lively gathering of local folk chatting, eating, and listening to a few young men playing tunes from a platform near the kitchen door. Zel commandeered a small table near the back. Before long the other chair was borrowed away by someone, and he was left in relative peace. He may have changed outwardly, but some habits died hard. He told himself it was simple tactics, that a wall at his back was safest. He tried to mix more with people, but sometimes he felt a bit overwhelmed. Fortunately, this gathering wasn�t too large.
Zel waved down a waitress, ordering whatever was hot and a mug of beer. �Is a night like this usual around here?� he asked.
�Only when the lads are playing. More folks�ll be in later to dance.� She gave him a suggestive smile. �Even us girls get a chance to kick up our heels when the lads play.�
Ignoring the not-so-subtle invitation, Zel sat back and indicated she could bring his meal.
May smiled happily as she wound her way back towards the kitchen. Some of the other girls caught her eye, sending her expressions ranging from jealousy to conspiracy. May�s luck was admired tonight - she would serve the handsome stranger. She hurried over to where Jenny stood in the kitchen doorway, chatting with Irena the magic-shopkeeper.
�Jen, I need a big bowl of stew and a mug of ale! Quick now!�
Jenny was a tall hefty woman of middle years, well able to run a busy inn kitchen. Her eyebrows merely lifted at May�s happy and hurried tone and she turned to go ladle up her famous beef stew.
Irena gave May a small smile. �You look happy.�
May grinned. �I lucked out tonight. There�s a new fellow staying at the inn, a traveler, here for a few days, and I get to serve him tonight.�
Irena�s smile widened. �Serve or service, Miss All-The-Way May?�
May accepted the laden tray from Jenny and winked at Irena. �If my luck holds out!�
Jenny chuckled as the waitress hurried off. �All the girls are in a flurry over this fellow.�
�Handsome?�
Jenny smiled. �Lets just say if I were still a buxom serving girl, I�d be in a flurry too!�
Irena�s curiosity was piqued. She craned her head to see where May had gone. The only glimpse she got of the handsome stranger was an impression of dark hair and fair skin. She was about to dismiss the matter as minor when the stranger looked up. Somehow, his eyes seemed to catch hers across the room. Added to her earlier impression were apparent bright blue eyes that caught the light, intense and haunted. Adventurer, her mind instantly assessed. And something else. Driven, or rather, someone who knew what it was to be driven. The thought was so startling, it reminded her of a painful past, and she looked away.
Something on her face gave her away, for Jenny asked, �What�s the matter? Ghost at your back?� The phrase was a common term in Dungurra for an unexplained shiver.
Irena shrugged it off. Today seemed a day for memories.
Zel nearly did a double take over the face of the woman across the room. The shape was almost exactly that of the face he cherished, but framed by deep brown hair instead. Silver drops framed the face, not gold orbs. She stood in better light than where he sat, and as she turned her head, he thought he noticed pale eyes. Hazel, perhaps. Odd, that a woman could look so like�.
Catching May�s attention, he asked �The woman by the door to the kitchen? Who is she?�
�That�s Irena. She keeps the magic shop. Northborn, they say.� She paused, then said, �You�ll be wasting your time, stranger. Irena keeps herself to herself, you know?�
Zel�s expression turned cold. �I�m not that sort.�
Chastened, May responded hurriedly, �No, of course not.� She moved off as soon as possible. She�d have to let the girls know that there might not be any slipping upstairs with this one. Shame, really.
Zel realized he might have frightened the girl. He still had difficulties remembering it wasn�t him against the world anymore. He should have taken more time with the dragon priests, but they weren�t really suitable for human interaction either, though their quiet, philosophical ways had suited him. The beastfolk of the far west weren�t much practice either. Their females wouldn�t flirt with a furless human. Maybe he would ask May to dance, as practice, though not to accompany him upstairs. For one thing, he was somewhat saving himself, and for another, it didn�t seem that sort of inn.
Sighing over his rusty interpersonal skills, Zel watched as diners became drinkers and dancers. He supposed that without ships in the harbor, a late night couldn�t harm the townsfolk�s business. Almost two hours passed as he nursed a mug or two of ale. Finally, the number of dancers grew to thrice the number of listeners. May wandered by, collecting empty mugs and new orders. Zel caught her eye and beckoned her over. She approached a little warily.
�I�m afraid I might have startled you,� Zel said. �I guess I�ve been too long at sea.�
May smiled, instantly relieved by the excuse. �Sure. A fellow�s either wild or shy after a long berth.�
�Well, I�m shy. But maybe you�ll let me make it up to you? With a dance?�
May�s grin could have split her face. She wasn�t a beautiful girl, but pretty enough to make the men merry. �Just let me get these back,� and she nodded at the tray of empties in her hand. �A reel?�
�If you want your feet pummeled.� Zel feigned humility. Actually, he knew most of the dances he saw done on the floor. �Can you get them to play a nice two-step?� The simple rhythm-walking dance was common for poor dancers. But Zel knew ways to liven it up.
May simpered. �I�ll give them the wink.� She bustled off to ditch the tray. A two-step! Well, he couldn�t be perfect. She shoved the tray at Bert the Innkeeper, who took barkeep duties after the kitchen closed. �Tell the lads a two-step! I�ve got me a partner!� She hurried back to Zel�s table.
Bert grinned at Jenny and Irena as he signaled the band. The effect the new visitor was having on the girls was the juiciest bit of gossip that evening. And now, things would really liven up, since the fellow seemed willing to be social.
As the tune started, Zel expertly swung May into the dance. Anyone could two-step, but to do it really, truly well and smoothly took skill. Soon, folks were just watching as he steered May through spins and turns, making the dance as complicated as it could get. May laughed with delight. She felt a fair way to being in love with this stranger. After a few minutes, the song ended, and folks made a point of complimenting May and Zel on the performance. Several fellows asked May to dance, intent on showing the popular waitress that locals danced just as well as visitors, thank you.
Politely responding to all the comments, Zel made his way over to the kitchen. He greeted Bert the Innkeeper pleasantly. �Since I seem to have lost my waitress, may I have a mug of ale?�
Sitting nearby, Irena�s spine suddenly stiffened. The voice was so familiar, so deep and melodic. But it couldn�t be. This guy didn�t look anything like him.
Zel collected his ale and moved off. He glanced at the woman he�d seen earlier, now chatting with the kitchener woman. Brown hair, hazel eyes, a conservative blue outfit. Pretty, but she seemed to lack any fire. He bet himself that she was a very competent merchant. She had that look about her, success without ostentation. He remembered May�s comment - keeps herself to herself. Maybe he should test himself and ask the shopkeeper to dance.
Soon he was drawn into conversation with a few older men. He answered as few personal questions as he could, telling a few basic stories about his travels. They soon gleaned that he was from the North, headed there, and began to ask questions about it. The talk turned to magic not long after.
�Wanderer like yourself, ye must have some knowledge.�
Zel quickly weighed his options, and decided if they were so eager and pleased with all things North, then he�d oblige them. �I have magic.� He acknowledged.
The men were all delighted. �Show us a bit?�
Zel glanced around. He had quite a group around him, older men, matronly women, all normal people who just seemed interested, not concerned. He noticed the kitchener and the shopkeeper watching. Well, it couldn�t hurt. He set down his mug.
�Lighting.� In his hands, an orb of light formed. It shimmered white and pale green, touched by the power of the Earth Dragon. Suddenly, he knew that he should not be afraid. These people were good, and could be taught that magic can be good too. He could almost hear the Earth Dragon whispering advise to him.
The people gasped and laughed. As he let the spell fade, one man tapped his arm. �What�s that?� he asked, indicating Zel�s arm. The tattoo was just barely visible through the light shirt, as a shadow.
Ten feet away, Irena�s mouth dropped open. The spell had felt so, so familiar. The power seemed like an old friend. Who was this stranger?
�Later.� Zel brushed off the question. �So, tell me about Dungurra. A thriving town like this, you must have some stories.�
Soon the men were vying to tell the most interesting tale about the town�s growth and happenings. It wasn�t long before one told a story about a northern sorceress and her swordsman partner. �Destroyed the demon she did, but died herself in the battle. Shame really. Town built a monument to her, out where she fell.� But none took the time to describe the sorceress or her partner, nor did any mention their names.
Irena felt so unsettled by the memories of the day and the familiarity of the stranger that she left the inn almost immediately after his demonstration. She hurried back to her building, and upstairs. She stared around her room a moment, then sighed. Days like this didn�t happen often. She thought herself settled into this life, this identity. She even named herself Irena in her mind. Nearly four years was enough time to become a new person.
Changing, she carefully hung her clothes in the small closet in the bedroom. Her lips twitched a bit as she looked at her wardrobe. Grays, whites, blues. Maybe she did hang on to some of the past, wearing his colors day in and day out. I should pick up something in another color, she thought. Green perhaps.
She wandered back into the main room for one last glance at the street. The inn still seemed lively. Suddenly exhausted, she sought her bed.
Zel managed to break away from the conversations. The townspeople seemed pleased to know him, interested in his magic and his stories. It was strange to be so easily welcomed, yet it justified to him all the years of searching and isolation. He had been right - to be accepted by the human race, he had to look human. No matter what the quest may have cost him.
The pretty shopkeeper had disappeared. He felt a bit sorry he hadn�t asked her to dance right away. She�d reminded him so much of someone he�d missed terribly, that he felt the urge to hunt her down. Still, her shop stood nearby, and he felt certain he could meet her tomorrow, if he wanted to. Fending off other waitresses and friendly folk, he climbed the stairs to his room, feeling tired by the crowd. This human interaction took a lot out of him, since he was so very out of practice. He tried to remember what he had been like before his life had plummeted into hell.
Once in his room he stripped off the shirt and trousers and pulled on his ubiquitous blue pajamas. Maybe he ought to get new ones, but these were so well broken in, he didn�t want to give up the comfort. He never realized how very soft and warm the blue flannel cotton had become, spending so much time being rubbed by stone. Now, he doubted he could ever find another pair as comfy.
As he swung the shutters of the windows closed, his eye caught the light of another window. There, in the second story of the magic shop, the figure of a woman in a nightgown stood framed. She seemed to bend with loneliness and dejection. Zel thought he could guess how she felt. He�d been there himself. Finally latching the shutter, he fell into bed.
Little did either lonely person know that each had caught the melancholy attention of the other. And each had caught malignant attention as well.