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This story is licensed under the Creative Commons

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© 2008 by Noisy Bob All Rights Reserved

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The world this story is set in is the one of Onyx Tao's excellent story series Cold Blood (don't throw a fit, it's all open license and Tao's a great guy!) and is set into the timeline at around about chapter 3 - Green Fields - but is to be considered non-canonical, being purely a fanwork. If you enjoyed this then go check out Cold Blood which as of the writing of this is up to it's 14th chapter, I guarantee you won't be dissapointed.

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Steward always thought Adamant Manor was at it's best in the dead of night, with the hallways only dimly illuminated by the glowglobes and the whole manor blanketed in a peaceful silence as Kurga city slept. He was one of the only house slaves still awake at this hour, a place so large required some things to kept moving throughout the night; the furnaces couldn't be allowed to go out or they'd take hours to relight which would make the place direly uncomfortable in the chill of Kurga, certain complex dishes were half-prepared during the night so that they could be quickly finished when needed, Driver, who usually slept with the horses he loved so much anyway, would take care of the animals. He for his part was there primarily to greet and accomodate late-night visitors and so was only up to see the Manor at rare occasions such as this, awaiting the arrival of the masters new personal guard.

The knock, when it came, caught him unawares. He hadn't heard any approaching hoofbeats from outside and it was pretty difficult for a group of warriors in full battle-dress to make no sound at all. Tempus he supposed, cursing himself for not being ready and making the visitor knock.

He took a second to straighten his tunic and at least make an effort to look presentable before unlocking the main doors and opening one. Rather than the group of minotaur warriors he expected two black-hooded humans stood on the porch.

"Yes?" he said with a hint of irritation borne from dissapointment, though no small amount of relief "Can I help you?"

"Messssage..." said one of the figures in a wheezing, unhealthy-sounding voice, he couldn't tell which.

"Oh right, well give it to me and i'll see it reaches my Master, it is for the ambassador, right?" said Steward, the situation having made itself clear, messages out of time with the usual mail were much more common that unexpected guests.

"Yesssss..."

"Good, well hand it over then."

One of the figures extended an empty hand and Steward was about to inquire about it when something happened that he didn't quite catch in the darkness, a sort of flicker that passed over the strangers extended appendage, and he suddenly found himself feeling very weak. He suddenly had to steady himself against the doorjamb to keep his footing.

"S-sorry, I felt a little queasy there for a mo...ment..." as he was finishing the sentance he happened to glance at the floor where a slowly-growing pool of blood was forming, he padded at his stomach with one hand and withdrew it covered in his own crimson essence.

"Wha-what's...what's happening?" he stuttered weakly, mindless terror gripping his throat.

Steward stared at his hand in disbelief as he staggered backwards, slipped on the pool of blood and landed flat on his back, his breathing growing faster and faster as the two figures stepped inside and further inside the manor, stepping around him to reach the main stair. Desperately he tried to hold in his lifeblood that was leaking at a terrifying rate, to staunch the massive slash in his stomach, but it was no use.

At least there was no pain, the cut was so large and so very, impossibly clean that shock had set in almost instantly.

~~*~~

Arafal set the book he had found in the effects of Provost Viruk down in a drawer and locked it away, placing a small water spell on the drawer to bind it fast, adding an additional air enchantment to alert him if it was tampered with as an afterthought.

That book, The Riddle of the Cells, had given him much to think about and none of it comforting. A simple hand-written manuscript, just prepared for publishing by the look of it, written by a mage-lord of a dead clan, holding an office that had not been relevant for...well, for the three thousand years since it was written. The Lord Of Tears, master of Clan Xarbydis's magical armaments, that book was written by the architect of Clan Scylla's destruction and in the process Xarbydis's too.

Xarbydis, what was the connection to that long-lost line in all this? There was one, that he knew, he had barely set eyes on the first page before a presentiment came upon him, a powerful one at that. But more worrying than the books providence were its contents...

The Enkhid'Nar Codex, so it really did exist. He had always dismissed it as a legend, the product of too much free flowing brandy or the make-believe of a human with an over active imagination, but there it was. He had to find it, the thought of such an artifact in the hands of a rogue mage made his flesh crawl, the danger it posed was on a magnitude scarcely calculable, such a thing belonged in the keep of someone with the responsibility to make proper use of it.

But what he could learn from such a treasure! Secrets never before disclosed, calling accross the gulf of time, answers to so many questions, wisdom unimaginable waiting to be tapped...

By someone responsible, of course.

He sighed as he pushed the thoughts aside, they could wait till morning, and sat on the edge of the bed while Groom unfastened his horn-bells and placed them one-by-one in their velvet-lined case, part of a ritual that he had gone through almost every night since his signature manifested itself so long ago. Yes, a long time ago indeed, the weight of years pressed down upon him like sacks of cement. He was starting to feel it physically too, a minotaurs body didn't begin to decline until very late in life, the spell of longevity saw to that, but already his back pained him slightly if he stood too long, threads of grey mottled his once pure-black pelt, half the reason he had the slave unfasten his bells was because arthritis made manipulating the fine catches, already designed to be undone by smaller human fingers, embarrasingly difficult and the horn decorations more fit for a precocious youth were partly there to disguise the drying and lining of the horns themselves beneath lacquer and gold. There was no denying it, he was starting to feel old, he'd probably outlive Groom but that was about as much as could be hoped, not much really considering the mayfly nature of human life. He'd spent most of his life stalking the backwaters searching for nascent mages or containing naturally-occuring magical phenomena, keeping his clan safe from dangers they never knew existed. He hadn't been home for months, he lived out of travel-luggage like some kind of vagrant most of the time, sleeping in beds not his own, he wasn't sure he could even remember the last time he took a break from his duties, one was certainly overdue but he couldn't just leave the clan at the mercy of the supernatural, there were other witch-hunters out there but none with his skill or experience. He'd take a vacation after this affair was cleared up, he resolved, return to Airing Reach for a while - maybe a month or so - and rest, he'd be no use to his clan at all if he worked himself to death.

Death...damn it all, he wanted more time!

"I could have more," came a thought, unbidden "as much as I liked...If I had the Codex."

The last of his bells unfasted and placed in their case he lay back against the pillows and folded the thick duvet over himself as the second part of his long-repeated ritual began, his flutists, drummers and harpists playing a quiet, lulling melody to silence his signature while he slept, playing in shifts right through the night. It had taken his new lens some time to get used to that, he'd been drawn and inattentive for the first few night from lack of sleep until he got used to the music but Arafal made a point of not putting him to sleep magically, Groom would be spending quite alot of time in his bed and it was important that he get used to the idiosyncrasies of being slave to a mage. Not a problem any more, in no time at all Groom slept like a rock beside him, still exhausted from a session of divinations he had lensed earlier that day.

Arafal just concentated on his breathing, slowly relaxing as the music and warmth dispelled his worries. He had barely closed his eyes when a chime only he could hear snapped him awake and he sat bolt-upright in an instant, the music faltered when he suprised the musicians.

"Master?" said the boldest "Is there anything wrong, Master?"

"Keep playing." he commanded, swinging out of bed and retrieving his discarded clothes, and they complied, starting where the tune left off.

With trepidation he extended his senses out from his room to Cassius's, checking for anything unexpected and mapping a clear path there. Finding nothing he opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the darkened hallway, checking left and right in case his own eyes saw something his magic didn't.

"Play on after i'm gone." he said to the musician-slaves before he closed the door behind him, he didn't want anything to seem out of place.

It might alert whoever it was who was in the building uninvited.

~~*~~

Claudius blinked and tried to shield his eyes from the suddenly-bright light with his hand, woken by the clicking of the bedroom doors mechanism, he half-rose and looked around in confusion for a moment before seeing Lord Chant standing with his back to the wall besides the door.

"Cassius!" he hissed "Cassius, wake up!"

The golden minotaur groaned in semi-wakefulness and propped himself up on his elbows "Arafal?" he said, yawning "What's the meaning of this, it's the middle of the night?"

"My wards have been breached by someone who entered without invitation, there's an intruder in the building!" replied Lord Chant as he peered through the crack in the slightly-ajar door.

"Truly?" said Cassius, suddenly fully awake.

"Of course, truly, why would I lie!?"

Cassius swung out of bed and donned a royal-blue nightgown befor reaching a hand behind the headboard and withdrawing a sheathed shortsword. Well, it was a shortsword in his hands anyway, the blade was nearly the length of a human body from crown to crotch, he withdrew it with a satisfying ring and tossed the scabbard aside.

"Your friend, I presume?" he said to Lord Chant, dryly.

"Hardly a 'friend' Cas, but no, I don't think it's him, it's not a mage."

"Surely not wolven?"

"No, if it were wolven then i'd know."

Cassius set his jaw grimly and placed a hand on the doorknob, swinging the bedroom door open, slowly so as not to make a noise. He paced out, his hooves skimming the ground, making barely a sound on he hard stone floor outside the bedroom. Before moving out of sight he turned his gaze toward Claudius, still sitting up with the bedcovers wrapped around him.

"Stay there, and don't leave this room no matter what you hear, understand?" he said, keeping his voice low, Claudius just swallowed hard and nodded enthusiastically, though once the door had clicked shut behind Lord Chant he did slide out of bed and retrieve the most suitable makeshift weapon he could find, a fire poker, and listened intently at the door.

~~*~~

Cassius seethed in cold fury, whosoever this intruder was and whatever their reason they had invaded his home, for that outrage he'd have no mercy for them. He kept to the rugs where he could to stifle his hoofbeats, with the glow globes illuminating the halls set on dim glow only he'd have a good tactical advantage in the murk providing he coud keep quiet, he knew Adamant Manor well enough to navigate by memory alone if needed, no intruder could do that.

"Where did they penetrate your wards?" he whispered to Arafal, following close behind him.

"Right in through the front door." Arafal whispered back.

That was disconcerting, whoever it was was bold, confident, seeing no reason for undue subterfuge. The alternative was worse...they already knew Arafal had the building warded, that meant they'd be prepared.

Keeping his blade readied he advanced toward the great stair, and with it the manor auditorium chamber. The cold night breeze that was a constant bane to all residents of Kurga around this time of the year, made biting by the regions strange micro-climate, blowing down the corridor was his first indication that something was genuinely amiss.

Before he reached the end of the corridor the way was suddenly obscured by a single shadowy figure that stepped out from one side, nothing but a vague pitch-black outline sihoueted against the brighter lights of the auditorium. Startled for a moment, Cassius stopped in his tracks as the figure approached, walking slowly and purposefully toward himself and Arafal with a swaying gait.

"Stop right there!" Bellowed Cassius in his most authoritative tone "Explain yourself wretch, why have you broken the sanctity of my home?"

The figure made no action other than to quicken it's pace, slow steps moving to strides, then to a jog and then, finally, letting loose a piercing screech that could have come from the larynx of no natural creature as it broke into a headlong charge, tearing down the corridor. Cassius felt Arafals magic tinge the air with static as he readied a spell, Cassius took the initiative and broke into Tempus to intercept the intruder.

It was fortunate he did, for at that moment the figure freed one arm from under its cloak and gestured toward him with a lashing motion. Half-seen things, moving swiftly even from his time-dilated perspective, sliced the air as they careened toward him in a roiling tangle that there was no chance he could have avoided were he not in Tempus. With the flat of his blade he clumsily batted the tangle aside and they withdrew to the figures hand like a nest of razorworms retreating to their shells, still charging but moving as if under water. From it's other hand, now free, Cassius saw the same phenomenon come forth. Prepared this time, he managed to make out what it was that the intruder attacked him with, he wished he hadn't.

Blood. Streams of living blood emanated from each fingertip of the cloaked figure, shining and flashing like red silk ribbons as they cut a lashing, whipping trajectory through the air toward him. What in the hells was this thing? He had assumed that the intruder had been human at first glance but, to put it simply, humans just couldn't do that. His mind raced as he deflected the streams with his blade to think of something that could but turned up a blank, it certainly wasn't wolven mind-arts and Arafal had said that it wasn't a mage so...what exactly was he fighting?

Immediate survival became more of an important factor when he saw the scoring the lashing tentrils of blood had made on his blade, cutting nearly to the core, if they could do that to steel they'd lacerate his flesh with ease if he let them touch him. The tendrils withdrew, giving him a moment's reprieve and he glanced over his shoulder to see Arafal clutching his head in both hands, his mouth open as if to cry out in pain but his voice weirdly distorted by the time differential. He got out of range of the invaders attack and stepped out of Tempus, immediately he understood the source of Arafal's distress; a penetrating noise assaulted his eardrums, impossibly loud and shrill to the point that he felt as though his skull was about to spilt.

He had only a moment to think when his assailant leapt through the air and let fly another barrage of gory ribbons. He returned to Tempus, the world around him crystalising, too late to fully avoid the lethal lashes and one shining ribbon bit a shallow cut in his side as he grabbed hold of Arafal, wincing both from the pain in his side and the feeling of the excess kinetic energy from Arafals body loosed itself through his arm.

He paused only for a split second to smash open a pair of flimsy double doors before dragging the mage through, deeper inside the building. The gymnasium, that was where he had to draw his foe, there was no way he could fight them in an enclosed hallway where the greater scope of their attacks gave them the advantage, he needed somewhere open where his greater mobility would give him the edge.

"What was that thing!?" he said, finding that the Gymnasium was free from the paralysing wail.

"I don't know," groaned Arafal, rubbing his brow "some undocumented creature from the mountains maybe?"

The creatures shriek echoed eerily down the hall, following them "Do you think you can use magic?"

"I think so, I don't know where that...that noise came from but I couldn't think straight when I heard it." replied Arafal, shakily.

"I wasn't affected by it when I was in Tempus." Cassius explained.

"No good, you can't spellcast in Tempus, it's impossible."

There was another shriek, much closer this time, and they both readied themselves as the staccato beat of running footsteps grew ever nearer. Arafal was building toward something big, his signature-chant low and rumbling like distant thunder as he bent arcane energies into shape by force of will.

Zeh-ho, Ah-Ha-La, Zeh-ho, Ah-Ha-La, Zeh-ho, Ah-Ha-La...

Cassius spied movement in the space beyond the doorway and tensed for action. Closer it came, closer and closer, clearer and clearer until at last it exploded into the gymnasium, sanguine threads shredding the doorframe as the cloak-swathed figure leapt through the air like a grasshopper.

Cassius stepped into Tempus and immediately spotted an opening, the creature had spread it's blades too wide, he knew he could step inside it's circle of attack and land a blow himself, and he'd only need one. It was now or never, he broke into a run and charged as the figure descended, the tendrils tried to sweep in to meet him but he dodged them easily. He raised his Xiphos over his shoulder to strike...

He heard a shrill whine and something threw him backwards, striking him hard in the chest. He lost Tempus cohesion as he fell, Just in time to see Arafal roar out a primal battle-cry and loose a blast of searing flame from his outstreached palm that engulfed the creature in it's roiling depths. Cassius's heart leapt, nothing could have survived that.

The creature screamed it's unearthly scream as the stomach-turning scent of burning flesh filled the room, when the flames receded it was still standing upright, the enveloping cloak had been burned away and what stood there was a vaguely humanoid figure, blackened by the mage-fire, it's shrieks of pain slowly quietening until at last it slumped to it's knees and then folded in the middle, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Cassius siezed the opportunity and ran over to the pitiful thing and raised his blade to deliver a deathblow, slightly amazed that it was still alive, however bad a shape it might be in.

Again he heard a sharp whine but, knowing what to expect this time, ducked aside as a bolt of...well, it was hard to describe exactly what it was, he got the brief impression of a distortion in the air like that seen above a road on a hot day but coalesced into a rough sphere hurtling at him with incredible speed. He snarled in anger scanned for the source of the attack, his eyes settling on another cloaked figure standing in the doorway, outwardly identical to the one just incinerated by Arafal's magic. It held both hands out before it and the whine began again, Cassius looked on in amazement as the air between its hands began to ripple and pulse like the surface of a pond that had a stone dropped into it, the cloaked figure moulding it like clay betwen it's palms, shaping it into a rough sphere before making a sudden motion of the hands that sent the rippling orb careening toward him, making a sound like the cry of a hunting hawk.

Casius dodged it with a timely burst of Tempus-enhanced speed, "Too easy." he thought before the chilling realisation that the attack wasn't directed at him became clear.

Arafal took the full brunt of the attack square in the chest without the cushioning effect Tempus seemed to bring, his eyes went wide as the air was forcibly driven from his lungs and it carried him off his hooves and threw him nearly thirty feet, hitting the floor with a sickening thud-crunch.

"Arafal!" Cassius cried out in shock, and was rewarded by a pained moan from the old mage, confirming that he was at least still alive.

Still, the force of whatever those things were was monsterous, even with Tempus protecting him somehow it still hurt like a blow from a club, unshielded like Arafal had been it may well have been enough to crack even the thick bones of a minotaur.

An idea occured to him suddenly upon seeing Arafal on the ground insensate, he couldn't maintain Tempus much longer and was foolish even to ry after spending so long training that day, he was already at his limit and he had moments before he'd be imobilised by tempwear, furthermore the shock he'd taken from contact with Arafal had jarred his arm badly and the ache was begining to become unbearable...but there was one thing he had left.

Slicing, it was a signature Tempus technique used only by Clan Manticore, Diomedes made him swear on his honour that he wouldn't teach the technique to anyone outside Manticore before he agreed to teach him it. If a Manticore clansman knew that he, a Lycaili, could Slice they'd kill him on the spot just for the knowledge he held. He'd never been able to make it work before but maybe now...In any case, he had to try.

The shrill whine of the creatures attack rang through the air as three rippling bolts of hard air sailed toward him fast enough that they were hard to catch even though he was bending time as deep as he could go.

He focused his will, they froze in mid air. He took an agonisingly slow step forward, struggling against the resistance all around him that had suddenly become overwhelmingly strong, and thrust his sword forward, jabbing it at the black-cloaked figure like an athame. A glowing fog that was nothing of the sort emanated from the tip as he thrust and time itself screamed like a living creature as the edge of his blade cleaved the continuum itself in two. It had long been a point of mystery to the other clans why the Manticore made such heavy use of blades in Tempus where the increased resistance of time made bludgeons more practical, this was why - you needed an edge for this, a plane to hone your time bending across, to give you some way to get a purchase. For the briefest of moments - as if the concept even had any meaning at this point - all resistance vanished as he stepped through the gash he had rent on the skein of reality.

And then the light went out.

When causality reasserted itself he was standing inches away from the black-cloaked assailant. He took a step back and ripped his Xiphos from the puncture it had left in the creatures chest, leaving a sucking, burbling wound in its place. The creature staggered back a few paces and made a pained, baying sigh as its lifeblood poured from the wound. It raised one hand in a clawing gesture and Cassius saw a rippling sphere form between its fingers. He didn't give it a chance to be loosed, with a contemptuous backhanded slash he seperated the creatures head from its body and the rippling orb dissapated with a thrumming reverbaration, the creatures body remained on its feet for a suprisingly long time, shambling about blindly for a few moments as though it retained some semblance of thought before crashing to the ground, still twitching in the fashion of a dead spider.

A moment after the body stopped twitching Cassius looked on in horrified amazement as it began to decompose before his very eyes, the stench of rot filled his nostrils as months of entropy took place in the space of a few seconds, the edges of the creatures swathes leaking a putrid fluid that evaporated an instant later. Within less than a minute the body was gone, even the bones had been reduced to dust.

There was a sharp clattering sound and Cassius briefly wondered what it was before he saw that his sword had fallen onto the hard blood-smeared marble floor, his fingers too weak to hold it. The blade was mangled, bent at an extreme right-angle by his last blow and it hissed when it connected with the pooling blood of the creature, steam raising from its searingly-hot surface.

He was Tempworn, badly so, the Slice had sapped what reserves of strength he still had. He hoped dimly as he slumped to the floor that the slaves hadn't been too scared by the sounds of the melee to come and investigate or he'd likely be spending the rest of the night on the floor, there was no way he'd be able to walk on his own for several hours to come.

Agonisingly, a foot at a time, he crawled on his hands and knees over to where Arafal lay and collapsed next to the old mage. He took a deep breath and moe by force of conviction than strength of body managed to move his arm enough to slap Arafal, illiciting a muffled groan.

"Arafal...they're dead, Arafal..." Cassius croaked.

Another groan in response.

"My Lord Chant, if you would be...so good as to...oh, to hell with this, Wake up you old baggage and give me a hand!" bellowed Cassius after trying to formulate a proper formal request for aid, Arafal jerked suddenly and pushed himself upright on his hands.

"Old? How dare you!" cried Arafal groggily "I'll have you know that age is a mark of success in my proffession!"

"They're dead, Arafal." Cassius repeated.

"Eh? Oh yes, so they are..." replied Arafal, his gaze scanning the room.

"Help me up, I'm too tempworn to move, thinking straight is struggle enough."

Arafal stooped to loop an arm under his shoulder and huffing, dragged Cassius upright. He'd almost got him to a sitting position when a spasm ran through his body and with a short cry folded under Cassius's weight and the two collapsed against eachother in a tangled pile.

"Cassius..."

"Yes?"

"I think i've broken some ribs."

"Yes..."

There was a long silence...swiftly followed by the both of them breaking out in a fit of laughter, the pair sharing a mental image of how thy must look in such a state.

"Ow, ow...don't make me laugh, it hurts too much..." said Arafal, visibly suppressing another peal as he rose shakily to his hooves "Let me just heal this and then-"

Before he could finish speaking he was drowned out by an unearthly, piercing shriek. They both looked round - too late - to see the blackened figure of the creature Arafal had supposedly destroyed with his mage-fire spring to its feet and throw its arms toward them while cackling maniacally to itself. In an instant they were surrounded in a cage of shining red threads before either could react, the threads that comprised the cage connected to the outstreached fingures of the charred monstrosity as though it were some demonic puppeteer.

"_By the will of the great one, Die! _" the creature hissed and drew back it's arms. Cassius's blood turned to icewater as he realised what the creature was doing, it was going to constrict the cage to nothing and cut them both to gobbets.

But it never happened. The monsters triumphant shriek was abruptly cut short when something impacted it and the madness in its red, staring eyes changed in an instant to perplexity as the cage dissolved, showering the space around Cassius and Arafal with a fine mist of gore in a near-perfect circle. The creature turned a half circle and looked dizzily around at the source of the blow, coming to face the polished breastplate of a minotaur warrior who promptly proceded to lamp the creature firmly in the jaw. It was still for a moment, took a faltering half-step and keeled over onto the marble floor, quite still.

"Impressive entertainment you have, Ambassador. Do the neighbors complain overmuch?" said the warrior as he stepped over the creatures limp body.

Cassius just stared at him dumfounded for a moment, his tempworn mind too sluggish to take in all the new information assaulting him "And...you are?"

"Captain Tiberius, Ambassador." said the cream-pelted warrior, when there was no response from Cassius he added "Head of your new guard."

"Oh! Yes, that's right, I forgot you were due..."

"Just in time by the looks of things, we would have been here earlier but we found a murdered Justicar and stopped to alert the authorities, in hindsight it was probably the work of this...thing" said Tiberius, tapping the fallen creature with his hoof.

"Kill it now." said Cassius "Before it wakes up again."

"I can see the wisdom in that." said Tiberius and unlimbered the warhammer that was strapped across his back, before he could raise it Arafal butted in.

"Wait!" he cried "It spoke, that means it may have information I can use!"

Tiberius looked at Arafal and then at Cassius, his eyes asking for a clear command.

"I can keep it contained with my magics, there will be no danger, I assure you." said Arafal.

Cassius sighed "Very well, but do it now, there's been enough trouble tonight as it is." he said and Arafal nodded and began to cast a spell, the now-familliar chanting tones of his magic echoing around him.

"I fear the trouble is far from over, Ambassador." said Tiberius ominously "And if you might be of assistance, Lord mage, then there is a matter I that might be due your attention." he added, adressing Arafal.

"What? What is it?" Inquired Cassius groggily.

"I think you had best see for yourself, Ambassador."

~~*~~

A group of warriors stood in the entrance chamber, a few crowded around the prone form of a human, Steward, Cassius blinked in confusion for a moment when he saw the colour of the humans livery, half in his colours and half in Diomedes's.

Then the source of his perplexity was suddenly illuminated by the pool of blood.

The warriors parted to allow them through and stood to attention, Cassius saw that they had applied some bandages from a field-pack to stem a foot-long gash that bisected Stewards stomach but they may as well have tried to hold back a river by dropping a stone in it. Steward was staring straight up at the ceiling from where he lay, his breath coming in short, sharp staccato gulps that grew visibly shallower as Cassius watched.

"Arafal, do what you can." Said Cassius, so softly he barely heard himself.

"A swift and painless passing would probably be the honourable thing to offer at this point, Cas." replied the mage.

"No."

"But Cas, it's unfair to-"

"I said No!" snarled Cassius, more harshly than he had meant.

"I'm sorry," he said "Just...just please do what you can."

Arafal sucked in a breath over his teeth and nodded "Very well."

The mage kneeled beside the wounded human and placed one hand over his stomach and then ran it further up his body, over the heart and then finally over the forehead.

"There's hope." said Arafal at last "I can heal the wound easily enough but I have little-to-no earth magic so I can't restore the lost blood, the shock is easily dealt with."

With that he placed both hands over the wound and his signature again picked up as Stewards face was contorted by a grimace of pain and a strangled cry bubbled up from his throat. Cassius untangled himself from Tiberius and sat down next to his slave, holding the humans head between his hands.

"Master...?" he said in a weak voice, unseeing eyes still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I'm here, you're going to be fine." said Cassius, catching a disapproving look from Arafal who knew how easily that statement might end up being a lie.

"I'm so... so sorry master, I let them in..." said Steward, tearfully.

"No you didn't." said Cassius "If you had then Lord Chant would not have known they were here and I would have been killed in my sleep."

Arafals eyes darted to meet Cassius's at that in some sudden realisation before turning his attention back to the wound.

"You did no wrong and I am not dipleased with you, endure this as silently as you are able." said Cassius finally.

Steward nodded and grit his teeth as Arafal did his magery, the mage snorted as though straining to lift something heavy as he worked on the wound.

"This wound is resisting my attempts to heal it...do you know what an atom is, Cassius?"

"A strange time to bring up natural philosophy but yes, I have read some atomist lore, why?" replied Cassius.

"Because I think this cut was made on the atomic level." Arafal said, conversationally.

"But thats..." started Cassius

"Highly improbable, I know." said Arafal "But...yes, that should do it."

With that he sat back and rubbed his temples, apparently done.

"If he makes it through the night then he'll live."

"Thank you, Arafal." said Cassius.

The mage huffed "Don't thank me yet, it is quite a substantial 'if', a human can only lose around two pints of blood safely, he's lost at least three and probably more, my magic will do what what it can to keep him alive while it replenishes but that's all I can offer." he said "That wound of yours looks like it's clotted on its own, you were fortunate it was so small."

"Is there anything else that can be done?" asked Cassius, hopefully.

Arafal shrugged "Sugared tea is generally good for blood loss in my experience, helps with recovery from shock too, beyond that I couldn't say."

"Thank you."

"Don't blame yourself again, Cas." warned Arafal, not unkindly.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to." replied Cassius, sternly "But I may have to renegotiate the terms of our agreement, the creatures that did this were sent by your quarry, were they not?"

"In all likelihood, Aye."

Cassius nodded as Tiberius helped him up "Then I want to be there when you catch him, so I can strangle the cur."

The following hours had been more full of activity than Cassius would have liked considering the hour but that couldn't be helped. The guards had on Tiberius's suggestion taken up a shift pattern for the night in case of any further attacks, the hideously burnt but against all reason still-living attacker had been locked up in one of the cells in the fighter-barracks, usually used for the housing of Furies, after the liberal application of wards by Arafal and some servants were summoned to deal with the mess and damage, most of them having been woken by he commotion anyway.

When Cassius finally returned to his rooms after regaining some semblance of strength he found Scribe sitting bolt upright on the edge of the bed and with a brass fire poker clutched in his white-knuckled hands like a talisman and a concerned expression.

"Master, those sounds, were they-?" he said

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with." said Cassius as Tiberius helped him through onto the bed, realising he didn't look very convincing.

He caught the gasp and look of shock on Scribes face when he disrobed to reveal his bandaged torso "Not now," he said "I'm too damn tired to explain right now, I just want to sleep."

When one of Tiberius's men brought in Steward, locked in a healing-accelerating mage-sleep, a grim understanding seemed to pass over Scribe and he rushed to help the warrior lower the mans body onto the bed, now stripped of the gory tunic and bandages. A long white scar bisected his stomach but Arafals magics had done their work well, time would do the rest, it always did.

He dimissed Tiberius and his men and settled back in bed, wincing slightly at the pain lancing from his side and the throbbing ache in his bruised arm. Steward lay between him and Claudius, cool of flesh and shallow of breath but that was normal from what Arafal said, a compensation method used by the body make the best use of its remaining blood when too much had been lost, the creators had apparently not been completely without foresight. Tempwear carried him into a dreamless sleep almost immediately, very welcome considering the kind of dreams that could have been elicited by the nights events.

~~*~~

Claudius didn't get any sleep that night, the sounds he had heard just kept playing through his mind...the noise that made him feel like his whole head was about to split like a ripe watermelon and those shreiks, no creature could have made a sound like that...

No natural creature, his mind supplied, up until a few days ago he had no idea that beasts like the manticore existed and apparently it was not alone among the monsters that stalked the Kurgan mountain range.

When a minotaur that he didn't recognise carried in the limp form of one of Cassius's slaves his blood nearly froze, the man looked dead at first glance until he noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest, not quite dead but far from healthy. A thousand questions about what had happened buzzed like wasps trapped in his skull but Cassius looked in no mood to answer any of them so he held his tongue at the cost of a sleepless night. When the young woman Maid tiptoed in shortly before daybreak carrying a teapot it came as something of a relief to have a break from the incessant morbid ponderings.

"This is for him," she said, pointing at the injured - though he could find no wound - man "Great Lord Chant said that he'd be waking up soon and would be weak so you might have to help him."

"Shouldn't you keep your voice down?" Claudius whispered back at her.

"Don't worry, it'd take more than that to wake Master up, for a while anyway." she replied "It's amazing Master managed to stay up as long as he did after...well..."

Some dreadful worry passed over her face and she wrung her hands distractedly, Claudius didn't press the point though she apparently knew more about what had transpired last night than he did. It was funny, after all this time mulling over what had happened now that he had the opportunity to find out he didn't want to know. Whatever it was Cassius had dealt with it, and that was...well, it was almost enough to know that.

Maid told him what to do and left hurriedly, sure enough Cassius remained fast asleep and a few minutes after she left the man slowly started to rouse.

"Wh-where?" he said blearily, looking about with unfocused eyes in the darkness.

"I think everything's fine now, here, you're supposed to drink this." replied Claudius, holding a cup of the warm tea to his lips.

"What is it?" the man asked warily.

"Tea as far as I can tell, it was from Lord Chant though so it might be magic or something."

"Oh, right." said the man and swallowed the tea in a few gulps as Claudius held the cup.

"More?"

"Please." came the grateful reply.

Claudius turned aside and refilled the cup, when he turned back the other slave had noticed Cassius lying beside them and was staring intently at the sleeping giant with a curious expression on his face.

"Is there something wrong?" Claudius asked.

The man was silent for a moment before speaking "No." he said at last "Not any more, Master killed the monsters."

"So you saw them then? I just heard them, that was bad enough." said Claudius, helping him sip a bit more tea.

"One of them...one of them tried to kill me." he said in a shaky voice "Except it didn't, it...it just wanted me out of the way, if it had actually tried then..." his voice trailed off then, though Claudius could easily guess what would have come next.

"So, what's your...um...what are you called, I mean?" said Claudius, awkwardly, trying to change the subject.

"Hmmm? Oh, Steward. You're the new feral aren't you?" the man said.

"Well that's a fine thing to call someone who's helping the sick." said Claudius with a smirk.

"Oh, Sorry. It's not a slur, just a fact." the man said meekly.

"It's alright, I didn't think you meant it like that."

"I didn't, it's just alot of us have been talking about you, they say you're really smart, like almost minotaur smart."

"Well thank you, I suppose." replied Claudius, he was sure it was meant as a high compliment but the 'almost' just soured it a little.

"Which is strange, because most ferals are pretty stupid." continued Steward and Claudius fought down the urge to say something pithy and extremely unpleasant, settling instead on filling another cup to silence him.

They talked quietly for a while after that, talking with Claudius seemed to relieve some of the nervousness Steward had, who had clearly been scared witless. Cassius's proximity probably helped too, Claudius theorised, he certainly knew that the minotaurs presence seemed to have that effect on him so it was reasonable to suppose that the effect would be roughly the same on Steward. Maybe not, Cassius did say that the effect of the influence was particularly strong on him so maybe it wasn't quite the same on others. Afterwards Steward fell asleep again, complaining about another sudden bout of weariness. Their talk seemed also to have assuaged Claudius's own nerves and a few minute later he too slipped into slumber.

~~*~~

Arafal watched intently as the creatures flesh began to rebuild itself. In the few hours since it had been chained up in the cell fully half its charred skin had sloughed off to reveal healthy dermis beneath.

"Vastly accelerated regeneration." he thought "This is the work of the Codex, it has to be."

His suspicions had first began when he scanned the creature with a few subtle spells, there was no doubt about it; it was a human. Superficially, anyway, he knew it was also so much more.

A hiss escaped the creatures half-formed lips, signaling its wakefulness a second before its head turned violently up to stare into his eyes with its own bright-red orbs, there was madness in those eyes, fanaticism. A moment later and it charged him, leaping to its feet and charging headlong at him before the chain that bound its hands together cut a few feet short of the mage and jerked the creature to a halt.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe it really couldn't be considered 'human' anymore, it barely qualified in body but in mind...there wasn't a mote of submission, there was always a little even in newly-captured ferals but not here, he had been reading its emotions since it woke and they had barely wavered from murderous intent. It was like the urge to kill was all that was left, everything else had been removed as if with a scalpel, it's mind chipped away at like a piece of obsidian until all that was left was a razor edge, an unrivaled clarity of focus.

"You will find your...abilities quite impossible to use." said Arafal, eliciting another hate-filled hiss from the back of the creatures throat. He waved his hand and hit it with a sharp jolt of magically-created electricity and was rewarded with a pained, strangled cry.

"Now, you are going to tell me all about the one who sent you." he said, firmly "Or else-"

"You...will all...bow..." the creature said in a breathy voice.

"What? I haven't care to play word games with you, creature, explain yourself."

"You will all bow before the great one!" it said in a sudden rush of speech.

"Who is this 'great one' of which you speak? Answer me."

At that the creature made a strange noise, a sort of syncopated sussuration that Arafal realised was laughter when it threw its head back.

"All will bow..." it said at last.

Arafal snorted in frustration "Enough of this, if you will not answer of your own free will then I will take the answers myself." he said and extended a probing thread of Air magic.

No sooner had he touched the creatures mind that it let out a tortured shriek and fell to the floor, thrashing wildly on the ground, clearly in agony. In suprise Arafal dropped the spell, but the creatures torment didn't stop.

"It shouldn't have been able to feel my spell..." he thought as he watched.

In an instant the creature was on its feet again, as though suddenly pulled upwards by an invisible puppet string.

" Tsk, tsk." it said in a voice not its own, rich and booming, a faint smile on its malformed face " Don't you know its rude to touch things that don't belong to you, Arafal?"

"Who is this? Who am I speaking to?" Said Arafal as he extended his mage-senses to try and track the voice back to its source.

" Don't bother trying to track me, you will find it quite impossible." said the voice.

"I'll be the judge of that, if you don't mind."

" Oh, by all means, be my guest. I've never been one to object to my enemies tiring themselves out with wasted effort." said the voice, a thin trickle of blood flowed from the corners of the creatures mouth as its vocal chords were forced to make sounds beyond their normal range " As for who I am, well I am merely an unpleasant memory, do you know what the wisest course of action is when dealing with unpleasant memories, Arafal?"

"Can't say as I do, why don't you enlighten me?" said Arafal, desperate to keep them talking, he was close to finding them, he was sure of it...

" Why, Arafal...you forget them." with that the creature reached up and took its head between its bound hands, Arafal reached out in desperation when he realised what it was doing but was too late, a heartbeat later he heard the wet snapping sound of broken spine as the creature cracked its own neck.

He watched the body disintegrate, seething with anger, before slamming the door shut behind him on his way out.

"That's a pity, witch." he said to the night air "Because I never forget an insult."