Storms or Rebirth Chapter Fourteen- Aryn and Trista

[Solana]

Chapter Fourteen- Heart Of Flame

When I look at those mountains, I see the centuries pass like seasons.
Louis L'amour


A few days brought the group of women directly into the heart of the Great Simbel Range. The jagged, dark basalt mountains formed bizarre vistas and formations, making it seem that one wasn't quite on Merna. Obsidian flashed when bits of sunlight struck it as the riders passed. With all the volcanic activity, this region was very warm, with snow and glaciers crowning only the very tallest peaks. Some waterfalls and rivers could be seen, supplying water and volcanic ash nutrients to the fertile valleys and plains. It was a land of contrasts and strange beauty.

Most mounts would have had a lot of trouble over such forbidding territory. Despite that, the nimble, stubborn nomad ponies seemed to do just fine, prancing their way over dangerous footing as if encouraging their riders to give them the praise they knew they deserved. Nessa had been encouraging them with songs and apples, and it seemed to keep their spirits up.

It didn't work with everyone, though.

"What a dump," was Trista's first comment. She had been sullen and quiet so far on this trip, and looked uncomfortable in the nomad-style leather shirt and breeches borrowed for riding.

"Ye of little imagination, this place is for the strong of heart!" Aryn scolded, her hand over her own.

"And hard of head?" the Air Guardian added, a little nastier than needed.

Aryn stuck her tongue out at her before returning to admiring the scenery. Nessa's eyes were nearly as large as the pony's, taking it all in, and Aryn had to chuckle. "What say you, Nessa? It'd be nice to get an opinion that isn't biased." Trista frowned but made no reply.

"It's very beautiful, in its way. These mountains look almost sculpted, but not the way a human would do it," Nessa answered obediently. "Why would Lady Trista be biased?"

"Very good, they WERE sculpted by the volcanoes around here. The reason she's biased is because I was born in these very mountains," Aryn replied. Nessa gasped, while Aryn laughed. "C'mon, a pyromaniac like me is best forged in a place like this!"

"So, what's the quickest way through these mountains, then?" Trista grumbled.

"I suggest we cut straight to the north through the Hasan Pass. It's the fastest, safest, and the route I know best," Aryn replied confidently.

Trista nodded and wordlessly huddled back in her cloak, which was unlike her. Aryn remembered being woken by her thrashing in the tent last night. When asked, Trista had stated that she had had a nightmare and told Aryn to mind her own business, but Aryn was sure it was more than that. Asking would probably only get her nose bitten off, so she instead tried for distraction.

After making a few attempts to point out various peaks and lakes to both of her companions, Aryn gave up and let Trista be while explaining things to a more appreciative Nessa. They could talk at camp tonight, when Nessa was off fetching water or something.

Unfortunately, as the hours passed during her unofficial tour, clouds rolled in. Aryn was not happy, knowing how nasty storms could get on these mountains, and glanced up at the sky to see how much time they had. "Trista, how much longer until that storm's on us?" she asked. "This is your department."

"Does it matter? It's not like I can stop it without my magic," Trista replied dully, eyes on the road in front of her.

"I thought we could race it to shelter. Besides, I wouldn't let you just stop it," Aryn stated. Not anymore, after what they had learned from Ghaleon's book in the Shrine all those years ago.

"You wouldn't 'let me'?" Trista repeated, turning her pony to face the younger girls as storm clouds seemed to appear in her purple eyes to echo the ones in the skies. "Listen here, little girl, I am NO ONE'S slave! Not yours, not Bachlan's, not ANYONE'S! Don't you dare presume-"

"I didn't mean it like that," Aryn protested, holding her hands up in defense. "Sheesh, what is your problem?"

"Ladies, please!" Nessa cut in, stepping her pony in to separate the two Guardians glaring at each other. "Aren't we all supposed to be working together as a team?"

KA-BOOOM!!!!! With the loud blast came a slap of surprisingly cold rain. In minutes, all three were soaked, and the ponies didn't seem much happier.

Aryn pulled up the hood of her coat and tucked her hair inside it with a scowl. "We'll settle this later. We could use some shelter, for ourselves and the ponies. Let's go!"

The ponies didn't need much encouragement, and obediently picked up their speed. Aryn tried to remember if there were any caves or anything nearby, but every cliff face they passed for what felt like miles was smooth and solid. Thunder kept rolling in the background, threatening to spook the ponies, but Nessa's gentling hand kept them going time after time. Trista stayed quiet, but the eyes that were shooting daggers at Aryn said all that she was thinking. Aryn ignored it, her eyes on the road.

Finally coming up to a fork, Aryn selected the right side without hesitation and realized that shelter was closer than she had thought. Relief felt like a warm flame in her heart as she urged her pony to go a bit more swiftly. A few more twists and turns in the rocky path brought them to a welcome sight.

An enormous meadow, broken up by farmland and a small forest, was fitted neatly into the center of the majestic soaring mountains around them. Wildflowers of every color were scattered in the knee-high grass the ponies trotted through, leading to a small city. To the north rested a castle carved of the local stone of the mountains, nestled against an immense volcanic crater that had a new cone rising from it. Nessa gave off a gasp of astonishment, impressed even with the rain and dismal backdrop around the lovely city. "Are we resting here?" she asked hopefully.

"Yep," Aryn agreed with a huge smile, wiping away a few tears of nostalgia at the sight of that beautiful volcano. "The hospitality around here is famous. Count on hot baths, dry clothes, and the hottest and best foods around."

"No, we don't have time for such fripperies. We can camp in the forest here," Trista objected, turning into the small forest as she kicked her pony into a gallop.

Aryn stared after her in astonishment, wondering where the blazes her mind had gone. Nessa looked just as confused. "Trista, no! That's a stupid idea to go under trees in a lightning storm!" No answer. "TRISTA!!!" Aryn shouted after her as another roll of thunder exploded nearby, almost spooking the ponies. Exasperated, Aryn gestured for Nessa to follow her into the trees and tried to ignore the lightning blazing through the heavens.


Trista kept going, not having heard her. All she wanted to do was ride, ride, ride away from her thoughts.

Guilt. Love. Betrayal. Despair. Indecision. They all boiled together in her heart, pulling it in all directions at the same time.

Where was she riding to? Where could she find a second's peace away from Aryn's constant questions and Nessa's incessant chatter, so that she could think clearly?

Or even better, not think and not have to dwell on the terrible choice that lay ahead of her. Freedom...oh, by Merna, what would I give to not have to choose? My beloved, or my charge? Or have I made my choice?

Thoughts of Bachlan had plagued her dreams day and night, and refused to leave her mind now. The shocked look on his face when she had tried to talk him out of his plans, the weight of the rejection of the man who had made her feel wanted for the first time in her life. The man who had given her life a purpose, and a future. The man who had stolen that purpose and shattered her heart as he stole her power along with that of the others.

How could he do this to someone he supposedly had loved?

Then again, how could she have turned away from him in his greatest hour of need? She, who still felt love in her heart for the man that Bachlan had been and the woman she had been allowed to be by his side.

A cry of despair passed through her lips. She halted her pony from her mad escape and sat in her saddle, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing into her fists. What do I do? What can I do? I'm worthless, a little nothing all over again. Bachlan gave me everything, and now...

Another jagged scar of brilliant lightning struck nearby, and her pony whickered in fear. The bright flash that resulted lit up her surroundings like high noon for a moment, including the large tree a short distance ahead of her, surely the largest in this small grove.

She gently slapped the reins to walk the pony closer to the immense organism. Yes, the air here felt almost tight, and there was a subtle hum of power in the air.

Carefully, she dismounted and walked to the tree, laying a gentle hand on its bark. Trista fancied that she could almost feel the life flowing in it. But even this tree was as doomed as her people if the Great Rebirth came to be. This tree had no choice, and no decisions to be made.

The tight feeling had grown stronger, and the rain-splattered breeze picked up in her ears. Gusts roared around her, whistling in her ears with an eerie tone.

Trista closed her eyes in expectation. Perhaps here she would find solace.

KA-BOOOOOM!!!

Trista tipped her head back in surrender as she eagerly accepted the lightning's embrace. The blazing white-hot pain lashed through her entire body, thankfully burning out first the awareness of her inner pain, then any awareness at all.

With a sigh of relief, she crumpled and gave herself over to sweet darkness.


Aryn couldn't help wishing for Raoul's power right now as she and Nessa chased after Trista, wondering what was wrong with her. Aryn herself had done some crazy things in her time, but getting hit by lightning while chasing someone who hated her guts and didn't have the sense to keep to lower land during a thunderstorm was not something she wanted to add to that list. She channeled her anger/fear into a bellow. "Trista, I thought you knew better! Did losing your power make you forget-"

KA-BOOOOOM!!!

Aryn yelped and covered her ears as the next bolt hit way too close for comfort. Her pony reared momentarily, but Nessa's hand calmed it down before the frightened animal could throw Aryn off. The nomad girl's eyes were huge with worry. "Lady Trista?" she asked.

Aryn frowned and mentally apologized to the patient animals with them as she broke into a trot after Trista. The smell of ozone grew stronger as they rode, added to the scent of burned wood. Smoke was burning their eyes, but it wasn't enough to completely hide the terrible sight that awaited them.

An enormous oak tree had shattered under the impact of the lightning bolt, and bits of charred wood still crackled and popped from the flames that consumed them. Trista lay on the ground under what remained of the tree, unconscious, with burns and gashes coating her pale skin. Her pony was nearby but miraculously uninjured.

Aryn screamed and leaped to the ground, hurrying to her comrade's side to check her over and cursing Bachlan vehemently for separating her from Solana at this point. Trista's pulse was weak, but still there. Her breathing was shallow, and she seemed to be going into shock. Burns and bruises were rising everywhere. She needed a healer now.

Remembering Solana's ministrations to patients over the years, Aryn quickly removed her long crimson coat and covered Trista with it as a blanket to keep off the rain and chill. She then grabbed one of Trista's packs and put it under the unconscious woman's feet, elevating them.

Nessa came to join her, her own face pale from worry and the chill of the mountain rain. "Will Lady Trista be all right? Some of our tribe members that have been struck never fully recovered."

"We'll see about that. Stay with her, and don't move her unless it's a matter of life and death. I'm going to that castle to get some help, got it?" Aryn asked.

Nessa nodded, trying to use her cloak to keep rain away from Trista's face. "I will. Please hurry, Lady Aryn."

Aryn swung herself back into the saddle. "You guys are getting a nice hot mash and a good rubdown when this is taken care of," she promised, giving the pony a loving pat on its flank.

The pony whickered and broke into its fastest gait yet for the castle. The cold rain kept pelting her face, and the pony's gait echoed her swiftly beating heart, but she managed to ignore it all.

Hooves thundered against the many roads through the city that supplied the castle, but there was no way of knowing which houses held healers at this point. Searching would take too much time. Her best bet was to keep going for the castle itself.

The castle was even more impressive up close. Its beauty was in its naturally simplistic lines, but the structure was still a formidable fortress. There was a moat and archer-slot windows on this side, solid stone walls built of slabs of gray stone, and a massive gate complete with portcullis. Domed towers rose from its corners, subtly glinting in what light there was. Above the gate was a relief of a shield decorated with a salamander holding a sword and hammer.

Aryn didn't stop to take it in at all. She dismounted and walked up to the gate to begin unceremoniously pounding on it with her fist. "Open up! Travelers in need of aid!" she yelled.

Nothing.

Growling, she drew her morningstar and swung it at the gate a number of times. Chips had begun to fly from the heavy wood when a little window in the gate opened, revealing a sleepy and very annoyed face smooshed into an iron helmet. "Who do you think you are? Do you have ANY idea what time it is?" the cranky guard demanded, rubbing his eyes as if just waking up from a nap.

"Yeah, time for you to open up!" Aryn said angrily. You jerk, sleeping on an important job like this! "I know this place follows the laws of hospitality, and my friend is gravely injured. We need a healer!"

"No one gets in after the gate is closed for the night unless weather or attack calls for it," the guard recited, and shut the window.

Aryn's eyes flashed fire. She had not been having good luck with guards lately. She swung at the gate a few more times until the little window opened again.

"No one gets in after the ga-YAAAH!" the guard yelped, suddenly finding the front of his leather jerkin gripped in a fist that pulled his face mere inches away from a very angry female one.

"Listen here, spit and polish boy, I have little patience with those more interested in yammering out regulations than helping those they were made to serve, and you just blew through all I had," Aryn snarled. The guard's eyes grew wider in fear with every word she spat out. "You asked who I am? Well, I don't like to rely on this, but I guess this is what it takes."

Pulling out a leather string that had been concealed under her shirt, she displayed the silver ring that hung on it next to an oxyale pendant. The piece of basalt set in the ring had the same coat of arms design as above the gate, with tiny garnets in the salamander's eyes.

The guard paled. "Oh, no...."

"Oh, yes. You know what that is, and sleep on your own time. Now, open the gate before I break the damn thing down!" Aryn commanded.

The guard pulled away with a squeak, and slowly the gates opened and the portcullis raised. Aryn took her pony's reins and walked inside, leaving the ring on display. Despite her worries about Trista, her friends, and Bachlan, she had to admit one thing.

It was good to be back home in Fief Caldera.


Baron Rakaj Caldera was quickly roused, and his first orders were to send an escort for Trista and Nessa. After Trista had been entrusted to the castle's best healers, he came to greet his cousin from hundreds of generations back while a servant brought Nessa to some guest quarters.

Rakaj was a short, wiry man with glossy black and silver hair pulled back in a short ponytail, an olive complexion, and glittering green eyes. He had hurriedly dressed in plain brown clothes, but had taken the time to belt a rapier at his side. A close look revealed a ring on his left index finger similar to Aryn's, but made of gold with rubies in the salamander's eyes. His easy stance suggested confidence in both himself and his skills. Rakaj also displayed Aryn's own grin, a mix of mischief and good-heartedness, when he spotted the distant cousin he hadn't seen for forty years.

Aryn was stunned, trying to reconcile this image of a middle-aged man with the spiky-haired little punk she remembered roughhousing with so often all those years ago. More than anything, it was this change that told her how long she and Solana had truly been away from Merna.

"Rakaj! I barely recognized the grown up version of you, and now you're the baron!" she cried out happily, coming to hug him.

"You've changed a bit, Aryn, but you look as young as ever," Rakaj replied gallantly, making Aryn blush. "I would say you don't look a day over twelve millennia."

Aryn's eyes narrowed, and she immediately shifted her position from hug to headlock. Rakaj quickly slipped out of her grip, and, using Aryn's own momentum against her, twisted her arms to flip her onto her back on the stone floor. Aryn stared up at her cousin in surprise and approval. "So you've mastered that throw I taught you after all this time."

Rakaj offered his hand to help her up, smiling wryly. "Naturally, as it was one of your many gifts. No hard feelings, even among family?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself." With that, Aryn kicked the baron behind the knee to knock him down as well. He landed next to her with a small squeak of surprise. Chuckling, she rose first, and offered him her hand. Rakaj laughed and accepted his kinswoman's help, then gave a little bow of acknowledgement.

"It seems I have much farther to go before I best you, Aryn. So, what brings you back to Fief Caldera after all this time?" Rakaj asked, dusting his clothes off from their introduction to the floor. He seemed to have mastered going from humor to business in a split-second.

Aryn let out a little sigh as she shook the dust out of her hair. "Guardian business, Rakaj. Bachlan's got a pretty nasty plan cooked up from Merna, I don't have my fire to stop it, and I don't know where most of the others are," she replied grimly.

"Whoa, whoa, back up a bit. Start at the beginning, and don't spare any details," the baron requested grimly. His expression grew more and more grave as Aryn filled him in on everything she knew.

"How have things been here? Has Bachlan been giving you any trouble?" Aryn asked. If Bachlan had threatened or tried to punish her people because of her and Solana's rebellion, it'd be another thing he'd be paying for at the sharp end of her blade.

Rakaj looked away for a moment, confirming her suspicions. "He was under the impression that you may have remained in contact with us, being relatives. He informed me that I was to report anything I may have heard from you, 'for the good of Merna'." The baron stuck his nose in the air and mimicked Bachlan's haughtiness quite well, sparking a laugh from Aryn. "I informed him that I was not his servant, and that I answered to the welfare of our people before a megalomaniac like himself."

Aryn's laugh caught in her throat. "You did?"

"No," Rakaj admitted in shame, "But I sure as hell wish I had now! I don't know how you worked for him that long, Aryn. Eziban discovered a new sapphire mine within our borders on one of his maintenance visits and-"

"Wait, what?" Aryn blurted out. "Eziban was visiting here?"

Rakaj looked at her sideways. "Yeah, every few months or so. He wanted to check on our volcano and do some looking around. He found quite a few new veins of precious metals and gemstones."

"Huh," Aryn murmured to herself, shocked and pleased at the same time. The faintest hint of pink brushed her cheeks.

Rakaj noticed and decided to push a little more. "Eziban also liked getting to know the children and would play with them and give them treats. They adore him."

Aryn grinned. "There's a lot to like about Ezi, that's for sure. He's a good guy to have on your..."

A huge sneeze nearly bent her double. Only then did she realize that she'd started shivering in her rain-soaked clothes. Darn, she was almost never cold when the fire essence was still within her.

Rakaj slapped his forehead. "Sorry, I tend to get distracted. I'll have some servants show you a guest room where you can get some dry clothes and some rest, and we can talk more tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, cousin, and know that you are safe and welcome here." He clapped her on the shoulder and gestured to the end of the hall where two servant girls waited patiently.

"Good night, Rakaj. I'm going to see how Trista's doing first," Aryn replied. Rakaj nodded and departed for his own quarters for the night. The girls were all too happy to show Aryn to the infirmary before bringing her to a guest room.

Three healers were hard at work fixing Trista's injuries and guarding her body against any aftereffects. Aryn tried to get in and was shooed out a few times by the dark-haired man until the curly-haired irate guy lost it and whistled loudly at him. "Newbie, I realize this just might be beyond your capabilities as a healer, but do ya think you could at least be as useful as that door right there and keep her ass out while we're trying to work?"

"You be nice to Bambi!" scolded a dark-skinned healer in a pink robe and scarf. She came out to talk to Aryn, shutting the door behind her.

"How is she?" Aryn asked worriedly.

"Your friend is going to be fine soon. It was a smaller lightning bolt, and we think there was a lot of air resistance since her injuries aren't as serious as they could be," the healer replied soothingly.

Aryn sighed in relief, nearly sagging against the stone wall behind her. "Thank you. I think Trista has some stuff on her mind, and her temper's kinda on the short side right now, but will you guys take good care of her anyway?"

The healer chuckled a little in spite of herself, thinking of some of the ones she worked with. "Of course we will. Now go get some rest yourself, and don't worry- she's in the best of hands," she replied strongly, then turned to open the door and re-enter the infirmary.

"...lousy gorillas with their giant rubber hands," the dark-haired man murmured while looking off to the side before the female healer closed the door behind her. Aryn raised her eyebrows as she followed the servants to a guest suite, but decided to trust her cousin's judgment. Eccentricity was a virtue in her family.

A hot bath was already waiting, boiling hot and scented with amber, as well as a small tray of spicy fingerfood and flagon of hot cider sitting within reach of the tub. Her saddlebags lay near the door, and an enormous featherbed piled high with knitted blankets in fire colors was already turned down for the night. Even the fat pillows piled on top looked freshly fluffed. Rakaj must have sent orders for rooms to be prepared while Trista was being brought to the castle.

"Will you be requiring anything else, lady?" one of the girls asked shyly.

"Thanks, but I'm good. I've forgotten how awesome Caldera hospitality is," Aryn remarked. The girls smiled and curtsied, bidding Aryn a good night before they left her.

After putting her leathers out to dry for the night, Aryn sank gratefully into the beautifully blistering hot water. A long sigh of relief escaped her as the heat seeped into muscles that felt rock-hard from worry and long rides and gradually relaxed them.

She then started sampling some of the food, and closed her eyes in sheer delight as the familiar spices and flavors of her childhood rolled across her tongue for the first time in a long, long time. Here were the fire cherries she had longed for made into little tarts, tiny stuffed vegetables that had been roasted over an open fire, kebabs of roasted meat and veggies and even fruit, and finally a small dish of mint yogurt to refresh the palate after all of the spicy things. (Not that it was needed for a spices pro like her, but it made a nice contrast.)

Warm and comfortable, with the matchless cuisine of her birthplace filling her grateful stomach, she relaxed at long last. Better not fall asleep and drown here.


The next day Aryn went to get dressed and realized with dismay that her things were still quite damp from yesterday's storm. She knew from experience that wet leather was no fun to run around in all day, so instead slipped into a peasant-style burnt orange gown and yellow waist drape borrowed from the room's armoire.

Her first business of the day was to go to the infirmary to check up on Trista. A healer she hadn't seen yet, this one a black man with a shaved head, was just leaving the room. He smiled reassuringly upon seeing Aryn. "No need to worry about your friend, 'cuz the doctors Tizzle are making everything shizzle. A few more healing sessions, and boom! She'll be back to normal."

"No long-term effects, huh?" Aryn asked in a mock casual tone.

The healer recognized it for what it was, and softened. "Look, I know it's a scary thing. Lightning strikes are never fun, but she's got the best of the best looking after her. I heard from my buddy last night that most of the damage has already been fixed, but she just needs a bit more recovery time."

That took a huge weight off of Aryn's shoulders. The two of them had never gotten along, and Trista could be the biggest pain this side of Merna but for Bachlan, but they were still a team. Aryn knew very well that Trista felt the same when she had come charging out with her bow during her duel with Mensun. "So can I go in?" she pleaded.

"Nuh-uh, not yet. My baby told me she can't have visitors until she wakes up, and trust me, you do not wanna make her mad," the healer replied seriously. Aryn knew from experience that it was usually a losing battle to try locking horns with a healer over their patient, so merely nodded.

Instead of the visit she had planned, Aryn went looking around to see what this generation had done with her ancestral home. Fief Caldera's castle had been rebuilt many times in her extended lifetime, but the overall feel of the place was the same as she remembered growing up. It was strong, like the thick stone that composed it, but also homey like the brilliantly-colored tapestries that added beauty to the functionality of those very walls. The warmth of the many branches of candles everywhere was a constant reminder of the element that ruled their lives. Crests, shields, and blades from past barons or baronesses hung between the tapestries, which had given a young girl much food for thought when she chose to learn the sword.

The Calderas were an unusual noble family in many respects. Many centuries before Aryn was born, her ancestors had been minor nobles in a wealthy and powerful empire that stretched over most of southern Merna. However, her family did not agree with the rulers in many things and didn't pretend to. Eventually, they were exiled for it. The surprising part was that a large number of those people who lived under her family's care had chosen to join their lords and ladies in exile.

The group had come north through the Great Simbel Range, until they encountered this protected valley that had been created by the nearby volcano. They settled here, taking the name of the caldera that had given them refuge for their own and starting over.

Since the group was isolated and still quite poor before their mineral deposits had been discovered, it became the norm for nobles to select a trade to work alongside their people. The custom was also a quick lesson in humility for any young noble child that thought to give themselves airs. More and more often, fire talents manifested in the family and the people, until it became almost tradition for the nobles to select a trade involving their element. Aryn's childhood was filled with happy memories of learning the sword with her mother and running around in the kitchen with the other kids as they were taught the basics of the culinary arts.

Even now, Aryn couldn't help but make a small smirk of satisfaction that her family's dynasty still flourished here, while the mother empire that had banished them had broken up many millennia ago. Looking around, she realized that she had come to the Hall of Portraits. Hmmm, I wonder if it's still here...

Aryn began walking down the hall, counting portraits of previous barons and baronesses. Some were warriors that had built their castle into a fortress against any bandits that thought them isolated prey. Others had been excellent traders, putting gold away in the treasury against tough times and making the small fief more wealthy over the years. This one had been a skilled diplomat, that one a philosopher. Her breath caught in her throat as the portrait she had sought seemed to jump out at her. Rakaj, you're a good man.

This portrait was of a one child family. A tall, happy-looking redhead was seated on a simply carved chair. Sitting on the woman's lap, one tiny hand reaching for the woman's sword, was an infant girl with a head of black hair streaked with red. Standing right next to the pair, one hand lovingly placed on the woman's shoulder and with a soft gaze of pride on the child, was a kind-looking man with a mischievous smile and night black hair. Both adults were dressed in leather armor and wore matching gold rings proclaiming them as baron and baroness next to their wedding rings. A small brass plaque underneath the portrait read, "Baroness Nazirah, Baron Galath, Lady Aryn."

Aryn was never sure afterward just how long she stood there, staring at the image of herself and her parents. Her father had been killed by bandits when she was four, and she cherished a few memories of a laughing man tossing a delighted little girl up in the air and catching her at the last moment. Although Nazirah had become a single mother in addition to sole ruler of the fief and a blacksmith, she had been determined that Aryn would never lack for love and guidance. She herself had helped teach Aryn the way of the sword, that being a noble meant being a servant to the people, and that loyalty and trusting your instincts were crucial. And it was Nazirah who had given Aryn the seeds of what she needed to become a true Guardian, instead of someone who saw power as an entitlement.

Smiling, she nodded at the portrait and whispered, "I love you guys."


Nessa was also up by this time, and had also checked on Trista before being escorted to Rakaj's dining hall. The baron proved an excellent host, asking Nessa many questions about her tribe and the adventures they'd had during their travels. As delighted as he was to see Aryn again, he didn't want any of his guests feeling slighted, and he often had visits from many of the tribes on their way through his territory.

When Aryn finally arrived for breakfast, Nessa was telling Rakaj about the time they had been approached by a traveling salesman who was offering feathers from the rare emerald agi bird to use in fletching arrows. "Legend says that the agi bird will protect any member of its flock, whether it's family or no. That level of protection extends to its feathers to make them more accurate," she explained.

"It takes more than blood to make family," Rakaj agreed, resting his chin on one hand while listening intently. "But tell me, what kind of feathers were they in truth?"

"Turkey feathers!" she exclaimed. "A few hours after the salesman left, it rained. Every feather not already packed had dye running down them like green tears!" She remembered well how angry Mother Owl and all of their warriors had been at the ruse, especially after the dishonest man had been treated as an honored guest.

"And your salesman?" Rakaj asked wickedly.

Nessa giggled at the baron's intuition. "Our best scouts picked up the trail with their hunting birds in no time. They tossed his clothes in the river, and coated him with the green dye and feathers and left him to ride into the nearest city like that."

The Calderas burst out laughing at the image and justice done and began to tuck into their breakfast feast.

Aryn let out a sigh of pure happiness at the sight of a proper home breakfast. There was toasted flatbread and a variety of sweet and spicy fruit spreads to use on top. Eggs had been cooked with diced vegetables and bits of savory sausage, with hot sauce available for an extra kick. A fruitbowl was filled with ripe offerings next to a plate of crispy biscuits. Lastly was a pot of the infamous Caldera tea/coffee morning beverage, black as onyx and strong enough to take the roof off of a dragon's mouth. Aryn was delighted that this generation carried on the exacting culinary standards that hers had as she popped a third biscuit into her mouth.

"I do wish you could have met the rest of my family, Aryn. My wife Ojhila took our children to Ninaz to visit her relatives, and they've all been wanting to meet you," Rakaj said regretfully.

Aryn snickered. "Are they as big of troublemakers as you were?" she asked, her eyes dancing.

Rakaj's expression shifted into mock innocence. "What, me? I was the very epitome of..." A smile twitched at his mouth. "Oh, hell, I can't even finish that with a straight face. Yes, two little rascals, Nejiat and Nayk. Nejiat's an excellent potter and martial artist, while Nayk might well be a class A mechanic one day. He loves fooling around with machinery, especially anything that moves."

"When we take care of this mess, I'll head back here to meet them," Aryn promised.

The trio was just finishing up when a brunette with an angry expression approached. Rakaj raised one eyebrow at her and nodded at his guests, but she ignored the hint. "This can't wait, baron."

Rakaj sighed and pushed back his chair slightly. "Cousin Aryn, Miss Nessa, this is the leader of my board of advisors. Her name is-"

"Let's cut the chitchat, unless you want to have another family member leave," the woman suggested harshly.

Rakaj sat up straight, while Aryn's hand automatically went to her sword. He put a staying hand at her and turned back to the board leader. "What do you mean by that?"

"Little miss whack-happy here made a huge ruckus when trying to get in last night!" she began, then softened one iota. "You did the right thing, you really did, but unfortunately the one inept guard wasn't the only one you woke up last night. Lt. Skipper also heard you and knows you're here! He and a few of his bullies are demanded entrance to search for her!"

"Oh, really?" Aryn asked, feeling her temper rise and her hand tighten on her sword. An assassination attempt on someone else's ground was one thing, but this was her home territory. She was the daughter of a baroness and a noble in her own right and sure as blazes wasn't going to be ordered out of her own home by some lackey. "Bring them on in here and give me five minutes, and I'll-"

"It's NOT that simple, Aryn!" Rakaj barked, as the brunette looked disappointed. When Aryn shot him a dark look, he brushed it off in an irritated manner. Apparently, the Caldera genes gave one resistance to looks from another. "That lieutenant is the one who collects my tributes to deliver to the Crystal Citadel. He's also the one who received Bachlan's notice to look out for you two. He's not under my rule, just stationed here, and clings like a damn parasite to rules and regulations."

Aryn groaned at hearing it was one of those. Why the blazes did so many people think that, just because one was a noble, that it was all about etiquette and showing off wealth?

The Calderas had lived hand in hand with their people ever since they settled here. It was hard to be distant when everyday you saw the ones who grew your food and made your clothes and guarded your walls. It was stupid to show off wealth when they hadn't had any for so long, and didn't want to attract bandits. Life in a volcanic valley required a strong community. Nazirah and Aryn had worked in fields, helped shore up walls, and cared for those who were injured. They had known the names and histories of the families of all those who worked in the castle and treated them as equals. If other countries looked down on their family for that, well, that was their problem.

"But we can't leave!" Nessa protested. "Not with Lady Trista still injured."

Slowly, reluctantly, Aryn made her hand let go of her blade. This wasn't a problem that was going to be solved with celestial magic and sharp, shiny things. They'd have to outwit them.

Rakaj rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Nessa won't need an excuse for her presence, as plenty of nomads are guests here on their travels," he said aloud. "As Trista prefers to stay away from here, I doubt that Skipper's people have any idea of what she looks like."

Aryn nodded. The mess of bandages on her head from the strike had completely hidden Trista's silver hair, and of course no one would see her purple eyes. SHE herself was the problem one. All four of them tried to consider what would be the most effective and least dangerous thing to do.

A servant girl came to take their dirty dishes, apologizing for the interruption. A richly-embroidered black headcloth covered her hair, and she also wore a long golden brown dress and neat apron.

Aryn studied her thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, "Hey, Rakaj, do you have any kitchen folk that are sick today?"

A glimmer of understanding appeared in Rakaj's eyes. "No, but how would you feel about helping out somewhere else...?"


Rakaj led Lt. Skipper and his men into the castle's orchard, feeling as annoyed as always at having to truck this straight-laced dandy around. They had spent about four hours combing the castle's interior on the 'search' for Aryn already, and now the man had insisted on checking the grounds as well. The schmuck had questioned Nessa intently, but the blond nomad girl had been wide-eyed yet at the honor of Rakaj's invitation to stay at the castle to renew ties with her tribe and had had nothing useful to offer him.

"I DO have my own work to attend to, Skipper," the baron growled under his breath.

"LIEUTENANT Skipper if you please, my lord," the man replied coolly. He shaded his gray eyes with one beefy hand as his suspicious glance darted from one member of the castle staff to another. "We have to follow proper rules and procedures, and of course these orders had been laid down by Bachlan forty years ago. Can't be going against authority, no sir, even if your kind is famous for rebellion."

Rakaj gritted his teeth so tightly that he was surprised he didn't pull a muscle in his jaw. "Very well. This way, please."

Today in the orchard was honey-gathering day. Strong men and women veiled and dressed in protective clothing were burning sugar and specialized incense to drive the bees away from their hives. They rotated orchards in different years so that the bee population could thrive and also keep producing what many had claimed was some of Merna's finest honey. "This is where our hives are located this year. Between the clearer mountain air and our use of our volcano's heat instead of burning fuels, we make some of the best-tasting-" Rakaj began, with no small amount of pride.

"Doesn't matter, I'm just here on Bachlan's orders," the lieutentant interrupted.

Rakaj allowed himself one mental image of letting Aryn follow her original plan before showing the men through the orchard. Many of the soldiers were wary of the angry bees being kicked out of their homes, and others were looking wistfully at the protective clothes the workers were wearing. Smoke billowed out everywhere, along with the scent of burning herbs and sugar and a tinge of sweet honey. Even the lieutenant was spending more time watching out for the bees than inspecting the workers.

They passed one worker stationed up in a tree, swinging her burner hesitantly towards the bees and muttering under her breath. It was obvious that she was a newbie. Rakaj turned towards Lt. Skipper and casually asked, "Tell me, why would you think that my dear cousin would be back in Merna now, after forty years?"

The lieutenant spat into the grass. "One of my men heard her trying to bully her way into the castle last night. That barbarian has no manners at all."

Plop! A green acorn had just landed on his head, and he glared up at the worker. "I'm so sorry, sir! This is my first day and all of these bees are really scary!" she replied, her voice muffled through her veils. She shrieked and veered away from an angry cluster of the relocating bees.

"Quite all right," the lieutenant replied in an annoyed tone. The worker saluted and returned to her task as the lieutenant glanced back at Rakaj. "Bachlan doesn't think much of your little noble line, my lord," he continued, his voice oozing contempt. Rakaj stiffened, his face getting angrier with every word. "Your lot breeds no respect for authority, tradition or the proper way for things to be done. If you've been found to be hiding the wench, I'll get to lead the charge to take down your soiled line once and for a-ahhhhhhhhh!"

Somehow the hive that the newbie worker had been trying to smoke out had gotten knocked off its branch and landed right on the lieutenant's head. There seemed to be an explosion of furious bees as they left their broken home and took revenge on the first target that they could find- the lieutenant. He shrieked and ran around in panicked circles, wildly flailing his arms and trailing angry bees that were following him and landing stings on any exposed target that they could find. Some of the soldiers fled, while the others had burst into laughter.

"Oh, no, I'm going to be fired for sure, oh no," the worker was muttering, shaking at the sight.

Some of the more experienced workers rushed over to remove the broken hive and swamp the bees with a sedating smoke. The lieutenant's face and head were coated with sticky honey, dead bees, and broken bits of honeycomb. Red spots indicated where bees had scored a hit with their stingers.

"Forget the rebellious wench!" Lt. Skipper screamed in fury, trying to wipe off what he could of the honey but only succeeding in smearing it all over. "I want that worker FIRED and the best healer you have, now! Bachlan will hear of this, I assure you!"

Rakaj was trying desperately to stem his tears of mirth, but failing miserably. "I promise you...ahem!... that she will never work with our bees...ha, ha...again," he managed to wheeze out.

"Good!" the lieutenant barked, stomping off with a failed attempt at recovering his dignity. He screamed as one more bee scored a hit in an especially tender place, then grabbed the back of his pants and raced for the castle.

Once he and his men were gone, everyone in the orchard burst into laughter. Aryn easily swung down from her post in the tree, still shaking with mirth at her mischief. "No one threatens my family," she said brightly, taking off her protective veils.

Rakaj wiped his streaming eyes with a handkerchief offered by one of the workers. He thanked her and returned it, then patted Aryn proudly on the back. "I don't care how much hell I get for that- it was totally worth it," he assured her.

"Maybe a bit of honey will sweeten his attitude, my lord?" one of the women suggested slyly.

Rakaj grinned and shook his head. "Not that one, Liese, such men are never satisfied," he answered. He turned to Aryn, his eyes still twinkling. "I'd suggest that you stay under wraps for a bit, at least until Trista is ready to go."

Aryn nodded, pleased that she had given a little retribution to one of Bachlan's cronies. It wasn't as satisfying as delivering something directly to her former leader, but it made for a good start.


The darkness of unconsciousness. A sweet and blessed oblivion set apart from the real world, and away from all the pain and devastation she had known there. Here she was safe, and beyond the reach of a broken heart and body seared by lightning. Nothing could touch or hurt her anymore in this realm...

"Sweetheart, you should be able to pull her out of this...."

No. Go away.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it feels like something in her system is....I don't know, fighting me...."

Yes, I am. Leave me alone in peace.

"This patient is one of the most important we've ever treated, moreso than that honey-soaked excuse for a military man. Do whatever you have to to wake her up and keep her happy, or you'll be pulling on-calls for nightshifts for the next ten years!"

"Okay, I think I got it!"

No! Don't make me come back!

A burst of cool power flowed through her body, feeling like a mountain spring moving in her veins. Trista came to slowly and unwillingly, trying desperately to cling to the swiftly-fleeing tendrils of sleep and failing.

She reluctantly opened her eyes to see two smiling faces studying hers. The older man had the smile of someone who would pat you on the back one moment and shake you over an open moneybag the next. The blond healer's smile was annoyingly perky to someone who had wanted to stay unconscious.

"Well now, how's our favorite patient doing?" the man asked cheerfully. Trista cocked her head in disbelief. "It's not every day that we get a Guardian in, so I came to personally see that you have everything you need. My name is-"

"I don't care what the hell your name is. Go away and leave me alone," Trista snapped, yanking the comforter over her head.

The comforter was swiftly pulled back down to its former position. "Oh, is someone a little cranky? If it's because of the dream team that was assigned to you first, I assure you they will be disciplined-" the man began.

Trista propped herself up with one elbow on the lunchtray to glare at him eye-to-eye. "Whatever part of 'go away' wasn't clear, I'll be happy to spell out in arrows on your-"

Suddenly, a huge bell sounded. "That's the lunch bell. Sweetheart, I'll leave you two alone for some woman-talk about relationships, or whatever. Have a good day," the man stated, then beat a hasty retreat.

The blond healer laughed. "Don't worry about him- he's like that with every patient that's important or has money. He always has to come down and suck up, trying to convince everyone he's their guardian angel or something, and goes on and on and-frick!" She quickly ducked the Jell-O cup that Trista had launched at her head, then stared at her patient incredulously. "Oh, you meant for both of us to go away. Your chart looks okay, so, um, I'm just going to go and check on another patient." The healer quickly dropped the chart she'd been holding into the container at the end of Trista's bed and dashed out.

Grateful to be left alone at last, Trista fell back onto her pillows, her eyes filled with tears. "Woman-talk about relationships, what a joke," she whispered. The Caldera healers were good- too good, in fact. With the extreme pain of her body faded to a dull ache, it no longer covered the unceasing agony in her heart.

Trista turned onto her side, still lost. How could he have changed like this, from her savior into a man willing to destroy his own charge? Was it the visions, the terrible burden that he had allowed no one else to share?

Curious, she peeled back the soft cotton bandage that the healer had been working on and examined what lay beneath. Her pale skin displayed only a few small marks compared to the deep slashing burns that had coated her body before. These marks were twined around some faded purple scars that looked ancient.

After carefully rewrapping what remained of the injury, Trista sighed and closed her eyes, letting the tears fall.

Why couldn't that bolt have been larger? Then she could have remained in her dark paradise...


A few days later, Aryn was up on the the north wall that faced the volcano, working out alone. This had been one of her favorite refuges as a kid, where she could savor the sight of the lovely volcano that exemplified all that was beautiful and terrifying about fire. Her muscles were nicely stretched and pleasantly warmed after her work with her morningstar, and now she was going through one of the sword dances she had learned in Lunar.

Even with her essence gone, her blade still reflected the fire that surrounded her and this land she loved- the flames of the setting sun that touched the volcanic crater with fingers of deep crimson and molten gold. Just like Solana, she had been forged in her element in her homeland, and taught to respect and wield the lifeblood of Merna that contained...


"...the powers of creation and destruction. It's a double-edged sword, exactly like the one in your hand," stated Baroness Nazirah, circling her daughter with her sword in hand on a wall that had been in the same location. She was a talented swordswoman with the thick muscles of a hardworking smith who wore armor as easily as cotton. Those muscles served her equally well with a sword as with a hammer and tongs.

Aryn listened closely, taking in her mother's wisdom while watching her position to determine her next move. They wouldn't see each other for a long time and were bidding each other farewell in true Calderan style- with a sword match. Seeing Nazirah let her guard down, she attacked. Two flaming blades came together in furious crashes and traced brilliant arcs in the air.

Nazirah sidestepped Aryn's lunge and struck back, still talking. "You're going to be a Guardian, Aryn, and it'll be similar to being a baroness. Your people will be working with you, providing your livelihood and looking to you for protection. The volcanoes nurture the land that in turn nurtures us. That means you serve them, never the other way around." A trio of fireballs shot from her sword as she slashed it in an arc.

Aryn quickly parried each ball with her blade, allowing her fire to absorb Nazirah's, then went on the attack. "What if this guy gives some stupid orders? How am I supposed to be loyal to both if I figure it's wrong?"

Nazirah laughed merrily as she blocked her daughter's blade, then moved into a series of rapid, random jabs. Aryn had to move fast to keep up. "Many people have the wrong idea about loyalty, love. It doesn't mean you're a silent drone- it means that you're so determined to see this person do good that you're willing to support them or ream them as the situation calls."

Aryn caught Nazirah's blade on her own, then twisted hers to lock them together. "But Mom, Bachlan tried to talk you into taking the job instead after that dinner. That jerk treated me like a waitress after I cooked up a banquet fit for royalty. Why do you think I'm the one who's supposed to be a Guardian?" Aryn tried a leg sweep, thinking the question would be distraction enough.

It wasn't. Nazirah leaped with a spin that both unlocked her blade from Aryn's and let her give her daughter a sharp rap on the collarbone with the flat. Aryn stumbled and went into a backwards somersault, then brought her sword up just in time to block Nazirah's overhead blow. Nazirah nodded in satisfaction, then stepped back and let Aryn get to her feet. Her face took on a rare serious expression.

"Because a man who looks so much into the past cannot properly see what is, nor what shall be. You understand the dual sides of fire, and the duty you've learned to our people here will be brought to all of Merna. You will be splendid." Nazirah swept Aryn into a strong hug, then kissed her cheek soundly. "Give me your sword."

Aryn blinked. "Why? We're allowed to have weapons."

"Caldera tradition. When one of ours leaves for any reason, whether into the afterlife or otherwise, they relinquish their sword." Aryn sighed and handed her prized broadsword over reluctantly, then gasped in shock as Nazirah replaced it with her own. "Your father and I made this sword together. The poor dear didn't know anything about metal, bless his heart, but he had a better hand for fire than I'll ever have. Master your skills, Aryn, but don't get dragged into fights that can be averted by other means."

"I love you, Mom. I promise I'll make you proud, and be the best damn Fire Guardian I can be," Aryn said solemnly.

Nazirah ran a gentle hand over her daughter's cheek, marveling that the little girl she had once held in her arms was now a vibrant young woman. Moreover, one that was ready to carve her own place in this world. "You have already made me proud, but remember that you answer to your own conscience and heart before even me or Lord Bachlan. I love you too, and I'll miss you."

A hesitant voice broke the warm scene between mother and daughter. "Baroness Nazirah? Lady Aryn? Forgive me for interrupting, but it's time to go." Solana was waiting by the door back into the castle, looking apologetic.

Nazirah smiled sadly, knowing that it was time to let her go at last. "Thank you. Keep her out of trouble for me, all right?" she asked.

"MOM!!!!" Aryn bellowed, her face beet-red.

Solana didn't quite manage to hide her laughter. "I'll do my best, Baroness," she promised, giving a small bow. A grumbling Aryn hugged her mother one more time and came to join Solana on the start to a new life.

"Okay, first things first, we have to ditch this 'lady' nonsense..." Aryn began.


Aryn smiled sadly and sheathed her blade, then went to lean on the wall facing the volcano. "We screwed up anyway, Mom. Maybe I gave up being the next baroness, but not the love I feel for this place."

"Aryn." Aryn looked up to see her cousin approaching, a serious expression on his face. Aryn shifted to allow Rakaj to join her to admire the volcano, and he took the space gratefully. For a moment, he stared appreciately at the impressive panorama, then began to speak. "Look, Aryn, you should stay here. Thanks to your warning, our people will be brought into the castle to wait out this 'Great Rebirth'."

Aryn snorted. "Skulk away and hide? Not my style, Rakaj."

He turned to her with a worried expression in his eyes. "Be smart. I'm already sorry that the rest of my family is away in Ninaz. What do you think you're going to do against a man wielding all eight essences with a only sword, a morningstar and your Celestial Gift?"

"Seven and a partial, thanks to Oriana," Aryn corrected him.

"Seven, then. Well?" Rakaj demanded, hands on his hips and looking every inch a baron.

"What do you think we're going to do? Find each other near the Citadel, come up with a plan, and give this monster the thrashing he's been asking for for millennia!" Aryn replied strongly.

"How do you know the others will be thinking that as well?" Rakaj asked, his expression suddely unreadable.

Aryn's eyes sparked. Why was Rakaj baiting her like this all of a sudden? "Because I know them. Solana never learned the meaning of 'give up'. Eziban saw the light and even Raoul's made up his mind. Joshua..." she hesitated, never having understood that one all that well. "I dunno, but someone will convince him to come."

Rakaj was silent, so Aryn gestured to the volcano. "Rakaj, this is my home. Not only the fief, but all of Merna is under my responsibility. Not just when it's easy, or when people agree with you, but even when it's damn near impossible and you have to risk your life for it!"

"I won't be able to talk you out of this, will I?" Rakaj asked, a hint of sly amusement in his eyes.

"Never," Aryn growled.

Rakaj was about to say something, when a flash of color suddenly appeared over the volcano. More flashes of a vivid reddish gold appeared to join it, like sparks coming off of flint striking steel. "The hell, an eruption now?" he asked.

"No, it looks like my magic...well, what used to be my magic," Aryn replied, confused. More reddish gold light sparked and shot over the rim of the caldera, then began racing towards the castle. Towards Aryn.

Aryn gasped when the light hit her body. Fire sang in her blood, flowed over her bones, flared in her eyes, danced over her skin and hair. She could feel the magma paths deep underground, tell where every person in the castle was by sensing heat waves, feel a familiar blast of power fill her once more. That power to tame volcanoes and control heat, the fire essence, flowed in her once more.

Aryn laughed joyfully, calling the fire swirling around her body to dissipate and calm down. "This is going to drop a wrench in Bachlan's plans!" she exclaimed happily, watching flames leap and twine around her fingers before disappearing, "The fire essence has been juiced up again!"

Rakaj grinned at her. "You'll have even more help, since you said just what I wanted to hear. We're going to raid the family treasury for some decent armor for you."

Aryn's face slowly turned bright red as she realized what he'd been trying to do. "What...you....you little punk! You did that on purpose!"

"And can you honestly say you're sorry I did?" Rakaj asked teasingly.

"Cousin or not, you're going to pay for that," Aryn replied, her tone making it impossible to tell whether or not she was joking. He laughed in victory and gestured for her to follow him back into the castle. She glanced back once more at the flaming volcano and grinned and pumped her fist in a kind of silent promise as she returned inside the castle.

The Fire Guardian had no idea how this had happened, but truthfully, she didn't really care. There was work to do, and it had just gotten a bit more feasible. Although she would have gone against Bachlan with only her weapons and celestial magic if need be, she was very relieved to feel the burning in her heart once more where it belonged.


Rakaj led her down into the very deepest and oldest part of the castle, that had been ancient even in Aryn's time. They didn't pass any of the castle's staff for the last leg of the journey. The mosaics down here were coated in dust, and the golden scrollwork on the walls could use a polishing. Aryn brushed a wall with a finger and frowned when it came away a smoky gray. "Short on funds for housekeeping, cousin?" she asked dryly.

"Even dust can work as a guard, both as a deterrent and to determine if anyone has been down here," was the reply.

True enough. They took one more set of stone steps down into the very heart of the fief before entering a massive chamber filled with a few millenia's worth of junk. Aryn had to dodge a half-broken spinning wheel, almost stepped on a pile of ancient smithing hammers, then leaped over an ancient bag of dirty sheep's wool. She kept close behind her cousin as he too wove his way through the mess, somehow knowing exactly where he was going.

Finally, the pair reached a non-descript aged wooden door at the very back. It looked like the entrance to a forgotten linen closet and smelled faintly of mothballs. Aryn gave Rakaj an "Are you kidding me?" look, but he seemed confident.

Rakaj traced a sign in the air in ruby-red magic, and the door's illusion fell away to reveal it as a solid steel one woven with countless defensive spells and complicated-looking lock mechanisms. Another sign was needed to open it.

Once inside, Aryn gasped as lights came on to glitter on gold, silver, steel, bronze, copper, and far more types of worked metal than she could even name. This wasn't just any room- it was the Caldera family's personal vault. Separate from the general treasury to serve the fiefdom, this room held items that were used for emergency cash, family heirlooms, and other important things. No one who wasn't in the family was to know the opening signs or even the location.

On the left wall was one of the family's greatest treasures- their personal armory. Row after row of armor done in all styles for all kinds of fighters was lined up and polished to a high sheen. Thick plate, strong mail, durable leathers and even battle dresses were ready for bearers of all shapes and sizes. Shields, gauntlets, breastplates, armored boots, helmets, greaves, and even more accessories filled in gaps between full sets. The air was thick with the feeling of magical protections woven into many of the pieces. It was enough to make most warriors break down and weep of envy.

"The warrior barons and baronesses needed strong armor because they were the protection of this land. We are to be the first in battle and the last to retreat," Rakaj explained.

Aryn nodded- her mother had often said the same- and walked among the rows to examine the various sets of armor with an expert's eye. She couldn't believe that she would finally be able to try something on, let alone take it with her. This mail was as light as a feather, and that plate was for someone a half foot taller than she was. A beautiful gauntlet with flowers etched on the back had promise, but then Aryn realized that it was ceremonial armor and could be crushed in an instant in a fight.

Then she stopped in front of a beautifully functional bronze-colored set of plate armor. Some kind of magical power had been worked into the metal, and it looked about her size. She glanced at Rakaj, who nodded and came to give her a hand to try it on.

The pauldrons covered her brawny shoulders perfectly, but still gave her plenty of room to manuever. The breastplate had an etched design of the Caldera family crest. Smiling, she drew her sword and tried a few passes, glad to see that the gauntlets allowed her a sure grip. She could move perfectly, and the muscles trained for millennia to handle weaponry and heavy kitchen supplies carried the armor easily. It felt .... right, as if it had been made just for her.

"Rakaj, you sure about this? I mean, this is the regalia normally reserved for those in charge..." Aryn reminded him, feeling a bit guilty.

"But you have sworn the same oath as they have in protecting the land," Rakaj replied. His smile turned impish. "And since when have we Calderas been famous for always following the rules?"

"Only when it doesn't get in the way of our job," Aryn replied gleefully, immediately feeling better.

"My grandmother crafted that armor. There are some defensive magics woven in there, to act as a magical shield in times of need. Take it, Aryn, and take with it our blessings and our belief in you," Rakaj added.

"I won't let you down," Aryn promised, feeling tears threaten. It was a good idea, to put some of this stuff to use instead of sitting around gathering dust in a vault for millennia. Besides, breaking customs was one of the ways that her family had ended up in this fiery paradise to begin with.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aryn suddenly spotted a very familiar pair of ancient gauntlets. Age had darkened the once valiant sheen of finely worked steel, but she would know her mother's handiwork anywhere. After stripping off the ones covering her own hands, she picked one up reverantly.

"My mom forged these a long time ago, before I was born," she explained to a curious Rakaj, then laughed. "I can't count how many times I helped her suit up for battle with the local bandits or some of the less than friendly neighbors that thought being poor meant we were easy pickings. I must have asked her a thousand times to let me try on at least a piece of her regalia, and she always said no."

Aryn considered it, then slowly slipped the gauntlet onto her hand. Funny- she could almost smell the applewood that Nazirah had always used in her forge fires, or hear the familar clanging and banging of hammer and tongs in the smithy that had become a type of lullaby over time.

"Do you want to take those with you?" Rakaj offered kindly.

Aryn gently fingered the steel that her mother had worked, then slowly shook her head. "Not yet. Just keep them safe for me, okay?"

Rakaj nodded in understanding. He helped Aryn peel off all the pieces of her new armor and pack it up to bring along. Rakaj then resealed the vault and reset its illusions, and they ran the junk obstacle course once more before making their way back up to the common areas of the castle.

Once back upstairs, they found that Nessa was waiting for them with one of Rakaj's servants, a tall man dressed in coveralls. She oohed and aahed appreciatively over the beautiful armor, but had something more important on her mind. "Lady Trista has just woken up," she announced.

Aryn felt herself sag a bit with relief. "How is she?"

"The blond healer says that she'll be fine, but..." Nessa hesitated.

Aryn grabbed her shoulder. "But, what?"

"Trista wasn't feeling good, and I guess she threw something at the healer..." Nessa stammered.

"WHAT??!!"

"That's right, baron. I don't care if she is a Guardian; I have an army of trained mountain shrews that can handle this-" the servant began, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

Rakaj facepalmed. "Dammit, man, I've told you a thousand times- NO MOUNTAIN SHREW ARMY UNLESS WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!!"

"Oh, for- I'll handle her," Aryn retorted. The servant looked disappointed as Rakaj nodded once, looking a little relieved.

Aryn didn't share that sentiment with her cousin. She was done with Trista's attitude on this trip. Aside from coming out with her bow during the midnight duel with Mensun, Trista had been absolutely no help in the nomad camp. She had either complained or been sullen on the entire ride here. Her stupidity of going into a forest during a storm just to avoid Aryn's homeplace had gotten her struck by lightning and badly injured. It had also cost them several days, not to mention getting way too close to being caught by one of Bachlan's cronies. Now she was messing with the healers in Aryn's own home that had worked pretty hard to save her life.

Meanwhile, what was happening to Oriana while they were sitting here on their backsides? Aryn knew that it was time to get moving again, and now that Trista was awake, she intended to give the Air Guardian the earful that she had been asking for. "Nessa, please go get the ponies saddled and ready to go. If she's doing better, we can get going," Aryn ordered crisply.

Nessa's eyes went wide at the anger in Aryn's tone, but understood that she wasn't its target. She trotted off obediently.

Aryn turned to her cousin and gave him a strong hug. "Rakaj, I'm grateful to you and everyone here for looking after us and keeping us safe."

Rakaj affectionately pounded her back a few times as he hugged her back. "Don't say anything you'll regret, Aryn. Not to someone who's a member of your team," he advised her.

Aryn laughed bitterly as she pulled away. "I've been watching leaders for a long time, Rakaj. Sometimes a good reaming is what's needed to get someone back on track." She cracked her knuckles. "And I'm just the woman to do that."

Rakaj said nothing and let her go, a troubled look in his eyes. It was an unfortunate fact that sometimes Calderas had to learn things the hard way, especially when dealing with others.

Knowing that she wouldn't listen to anything further, he decided to put his own efforts into something useful. Doublechecking the castle's defenses for anything stupid their Memory Guardian was cooking up sounded like a pretty good idea right now.


Trista was busily packing her things in one of her saddlebags when Aryn entered the infirmary without knocking. "Nessa said that you're doing better?" the Fire Guardian asked tightly, as she reined her temper in for the moment.

Trista glanced up in indifference. The burns from the lightning strike were gone without a trace, and the Air Guardian was steady on her feet. There was no tightness in her mouth betraying any pain, but a glimmer of defensiveness could be seen in her eyes. "Yes," she replied dully.

"Good. Now why were you giving the healers such a hard time?!" Aryn spat in disgust. "Nessa said you threw something at the blond woman. One of the servants was ready to send an army of trained mountain shrews after you until I talked him out of it!"

"And I suppose he listened to you because you're one of their precious nobles?" Trista shot back.

"What? No, that's not the-" Aryn began, confused, then shook it off. She knew a diversion tactic when she saw one. "Never mind! What's going on, Trista?! We've never been friends, but you've been acting like a diva since the nomad camp."

Trista's fingers played with the fringe on her nomad clothes. "You wouldn't understand. You have no idea the kind of suffering I've been going through."

"Try me," Aryn replied earnestly, holding her hand up to her heart.

For a moment, Trista actually considered it. Maybe talking it out would help. Her spirit felt so very heavy, and so raggedly torn between the two great loves in her life. If maybe she could get it out...

Aah, what was she thinking?! What had life taught her, that people could be depended on? Ha! Even the one who had loved her so well and so long had become a stranger to her, rejecting and casting her aside like a broken bowstring. Trista couldn't stand being hurt again.

Summoning up a cool, arrogant shell, she stood up very straight and faced down Aryn. "You're just a kid in many ways, Aryn. A sheltered little noble brat who grew up in a castle, became a Guardian, and ran off on a vacation when it got too difficult. How would you have any idea what it is to actually deal with pain?"

Aryn's mouth opened and closed a number of times as her mind tried to handle this. "You...you think that's what I am?! And a...a...a vacation?!" Flames glittered in her eyes. "You call fighting in wars, losing friends, and watching entire civilizations die a VACATION??!! By Merna, Trista, you're an ignorant fool, and if you wanna know about real pain, go talk to Solana!"

Trista stared at her in shock. Aryn turned away and mentally listed pecan recipes in her mind until her temper was back under control. Trista was only lashing out to protect herself, she knew that. Going off half-cocked wasn't going to help either of them.

Finally, Aryn faced her colleague again. "But, that's in the past. You know how you get through the rough times? Friends. Friends and comrades. And when you find someone willing to watch your back, it's a pretty stupid idea to drive them away."

"And you would watch my back?" Trista asked, half in scorn and half in....hope?

"Yeah. No matter how often you make me mad, and you do, you're still a Guardian and my ally," Aryn replied honestly. She paused. "Nessa, too. She made sure that you were stabilized after you got hit by that lightning, and protected you when I came here for help. She kept asking how you were doing, and just wants to be your friend."

"She's....she's a nice kid..." Trista trailed off, having no ammunition for an insult to the nomad girl. Come to think of it, Nessa had only been trying to help ever since she had found them near the nomad camp.

"She is. So whatever's on your mind, toss in the fact that there're people who care about you. Whether it stays that way is up to you," Aryn replied softly.

"Aryn." Trista hesitated, looking down at her hands. "I'm sorry... please tell the healers I'm so sorry."

"Maybe you should tell them yourself?" Aryn suggested delicately.

"Maybe. I'm sorry to you, and to Nessa. But I'm not ready to talk about my problem yet," Trista replied, tears glittering in her amethyst eyes.

Aryn suddenly came forward and gave her a hug. Trista stiffened in surprise, then accepted the gesture, knowing that Aryn was only trying to help in her way. "S'all right. If you're ready to go, we can leave today. It shouldn't take too much longer to get to the Crystal Citadel."

Trista's arms went slack at that point, and she pulled away. Her icy shell was up again. "....right. I'll go see the healers to thank them."

Aryn raised an eyebrow at the sudden change, but knew better than to pursue it. She just wondered what she'd said to trigger it. "You know where to find me if you wanna talk, Trista."

The sound of the closing door on Trista's exit was the only response.