DragonBytes

Prologue

In 2092, nearly a century after computers began gracing the desks of every household, planet Earth launched four probes. The event was heralded as a chance to find out what was at the four "corners of the universe" and finally determine whether or not we were alone in it. We had travelled out into the depths of our own solar system, but found no one but ourselves to question our superiority. Theorists haggled over ideas that areas found on some of the planets were more than just natural formations, but even Mars had proven less than ideal for providing concrete proof.

We'd developed faster-than-light technology, which some idiot had dubbed "The Space Beyond" and it had stuck. It seemed that once a vehicle got past the speed of light by a certain amount it hit a pocket that it moved through quickly, only hindered by the gravitational pull of the planets nearby. So long as the vehicle didn't get too close to anything with a gravitational pull, it could go as far as you liked with very little fuel. If pulled out of TSP, it would have to fight the gravity, pull itself back up to speed, and keep going. Tests had been done, but the animals sent out into TSP had come back violently crazy. Religious theorists had suggested we'd found Eutopia and that the animals were pissed as hell to have been yanked back out of it. Rumors had it that the Catholic church sent a small ship of priests to disprove the theory, but that the ship had never come back.

So the probes were manned with AI instead. Learning computers, programmed in this case with specific commands. They were to go as far as their primary fuel would allow, then dump everything they'd seen into the return carrier they'd been equipped with, and use the secondary fuel to both self-destruct and launch the carrier back to home. Trajectories around known stars and planets had been calculated, keeping the probes as far away from them when possible and slingshotting them around when it wasn't, to maximize the fuel. Then, in a large, celebratory display, they were launched. It was expected to take a while - maybe even a couple of centuries - before we would even spot the carrier's return. Most of humanity forgot about it, except for the scientists waiting to interpret the data.

They were surprised when it only took 78 years. In 2160, the first carrier returned. Most of the message it held seemed to be gibberish. Some of it seemed to be quotes from passages from great writers long dead, but in bits and pieces. None of it had been text that the AI had been exposed to. In the end, the only real message they could be sure about was the one that repeated over and over in the text.

"They are coming," it said. "They see you now and they are coming."

It wasn't long before the message leaked out. People were scared. Some suggested that the message wasn't menacing in nature, but most didn't believe it. There was no indication of when or from where they were coming. And, not to mention, who the hell "they" even were. The governments put the people at ease, however, assuring them that they were taking all measures. Probes were sent, new space stations were built further out, and advance warning systems were added. An interplanetary military was created to help protect the planets from possible dangers. If "they" were coming, we'd be ready.

Then, two years later, the second carrier returned. One year later, the third and fourth came back almost a month apart.

And they all carried the exact same warning. Different texts flavored the gibberish, one AI seemed to have preferred music lyrics over Shakespeare, for example, but always the same repeated message:

"They are coming. They see you now and they are coming."

Humanity had been warned. And it scared the crap out of them.

Some people dug in, prepping bomb shelters and stocking up on weapons in preparation to defend mother Earth and her sister planets. Others, however, built ships. Huge colony ships that fled the solar system in an attempt to hide from the unknown evils that were coming. Over the next century, more than fifty new colonies reported back as finding homes. More than twice that didn't, however. Some just didn't want to have anyone know where they were, for fear of being found. Others just vanished, some presumed to have gone off into TSB. Humanity tumbled out across the universe like seeds thrown to the wind.

Kess - Awakening 1

Shadow... Wake up Shadow....

It was the voice that woke me. Pushed me out of a drug-induced haze that had the comfort of an icy bath once I realized I'd been in a drug-induced haze. I sat bolt upright, gasping in the sterile air. I was tangled in wires and tubes that connected me to several pieces of equipment next to the table.

Lab table. I'm naked. Where the fuck are my clothes! I'm on a lab table, connected up to machinery that is beeping noisily next to me.

Oh, this can't be good...

We'll find you clothes later. Right now you need to remain calm and listen to me carefully. You need to remove the electrodes that are connected to you. The wires, Shadow. Pull them off.

Well that sounds like good advice at least. I yank them off handfulls at a time. Then it occurs to me as I pull the IV off of me last.

"Wait, are you talking to me?"

Yes. But we can cover all of that later. Right now, we don't have much time. We need to get you out of here.

I look around. There are three others on tables like I was. All are men. All are connected to wires and tubes the same as I was.

"What about them?" I ask, still looking around for the source of the voice. "And where the hell are you?"

I'm on coms. They've been implanted in your head. No one else can hear me. And I can hear you when you think towards me, so you don't need to talk aloud.

Around her, the men began twitching and spasming on the tables. Smoke began to rise from some of the circles where electrodes were connected to them. I hopped off the table I'd been on, backing away from the machinery.

"Holy fragging crap! What the hell is happening to them?"

There's nothing you can do to help them. You need to leave. Now. If you listen carefully, I know the layout of the building and I can see through the cameras to help guide you out of here. But you need to go now.

I ran from the room. The white, sterile, room that was beginning to smell of smoldered flesh and taste of an electric-metallic twang in my mouth. Out into a hallway. I saw a sheet folded on a small cart on my way out and grabbed it, hastily wrapping it around my body as I ran. The hallways all looked the same - white paint, gray linoleum. No windows. The voice guided her to another room. This one looked more like an ER, with beds and curtains half-pulled around them. Thankfully, nobody seemed to be occupying these beds.

Hide! Quickly Shadow!

I ducked behind one of the curtains as a single guard came running through. I bumped the bed, and it made a metallic creak as it wobbled on it's locked casters. The guard swung around, moving towards her with his gun at the ready.

You can take him, the voice insisted. Hit him. You're stronger than you used to be. And you move faster than he does. Knock him out. Take his gun.

I was dubious, at best, but what was I going to do? He was approching and I needed to do something. Hitting, at least, was something I was familiar enough with. Once he was close enough, I yanked back the curtain and slammed my fist into his jaw.

"Damn! You weren't kidding!"

Frankly, I would have expected my hand to hurt like hell after an impact like that. Somehow I barely felt it. Adrenaline, maybe? The guy was nearly twice my size and yet he fell like a lead brick. And I neatly snagged the gun out of his hands before he'd hit the ground.

I think I was more surprised to find the targeting information in my eyes though. Ammo count on the clip. Heat condition on the gun. Some distance to target information. I blinked a few times, trying to get the hang of it.

"I have a smartlink now?" I asked aloud. I'll admit, a small part of me was looking for something to shoot at, just to test out the link. Frankly, I'd been saving up for one of these babies for a while.

Yes. More guards coming. The door at the end of the room on your left.

I kicked the guy on the ground and was surpised to see him slide a little across the floor from it. I kicked him again, so that the guards coming wouldn't see him right off and hid behind another curtain. I clutched at the sheet I was holding around me, trying to keep it from slipping.

You know, you'd do better without that sheet. Your skin can do something special now too.

Oh? What's that? I tried out the idea of talking to the voice without speaking aloud. What the hell, it'll prove whether she's in my head or not. Frag, but aren't you supposed to ignore voices in your head?!

Actually, the coms are in your head and I am speaking to you through them. But, as for your skin, it can change color to match the wall. If you can will it to, that is.

Okay, now you're just fucking with me...

No. I'm trying to keep you alive. You need to get out of that building, Shadow -

Okay, I have a name. What's with this Shadow drek anyway?

No names! Not yet anyway. We're all safer that way. We have code names for now. Yours is Shadow. Mine is too, since we're paired up. But right now you need to get out of there! Shoot the damn guards!

It was so much easier than shooting a gun had ever been. Although before that day, I'd never killed a man. Oh, I'd shot my way out of a couple of hairy situations, but that's the kind of stuff where you lay down fire until you can get your ass as far away as possible.

The link told me there was enough bullets. It was easy enough to fire the gun. I expected more kick, as it was a larger gun that I was accustomed to firing too. I tend to be more of a heavy pistol kind of girl myself. This thing was more of a light machine gun and semi-automatic. It did kick back on me more with the second blast. I missed because of it. The first blast seemed to splatter the guard backwards, leaving small splashes of blood all over the pristine white wall behind him.

Guard number two seemed surprised to see me. My luck, I guess. I took the shot while I could. Down he went, next to his buddy. That one took it more in the chest, so he was probably still alive. But he was out, and that's all that mattered to me just then. I grabbed for more clips, since they had the same weapon as the one I was holding. Next, I wanted some of their damn clothes.

No! No time for that. The helicopters are almost here!

Helicopters?

They're going to blow up the building. You have to get out NOW!

I ran. She gave me directions as I went, through corridors and doors. I came out into a lobby full of windows and plush-looking chairs and fancy reception desks. On one wall, a trid talked about some technology or other, promoting it as only a corp ad could - with pounding music and some skimpily-clad woman. I didn't have time to see what the product was. I really didn't care. It seemed that all the guards were headed in one direction - out the front to try and shoot at the helicopters descending down towards the building. There was one door out, away from it all, and it was totally unguarded.

It was locked down when I got to it, but after a couple tries and some encouragement from the voice in my fragging head, I managed to slam the sucker open. I was through it in a heartbeat. I crossed the field of grass and made it into the trees before the explosions began behind me. I turned to look, seeing the entire building go up in a firey cloud. It didn't take much encouragement from the voice to get me to keep going. I was only vaguely aware that I was running faster than I would have thought myself possible, and not getting winded by it. Then again, I was high on adrenaline. I probably could have explained a lot away with that, if a part of me hadn't known better.

Kess - Prologue

It wasn't the bullet itself that irked me most. The bullet was inconsequential excepting the fact that it was clearly lodged somewhere in my back, numbing my body closer and closer to unconsciousness. But, I suppose, it wasn't the bullet's fault. It was mine. How could I really see it any other way?

I hadn't seen the second guy. Nevermind the absentmindedness that led me into this neighborhood in the first place. I'd marked the target. I'd followed the target. I just didn't realize he wasn't worth rolling until I was already in this fragging neighborhood. Getting out of it again seems to have proven fatal. Or maybe I'm just hallucinating the puddle of my own blood slowly growing on the pavement...

But, yeah, your life grasps at straws as it drains away. Your heart races and you panic, when you realize just what's happening.

I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die. What a lousy fragging way to go!

My life did flash before my eyes, or at least the fragged-up parts of it. Nothing good. Okay, maybe a few things. My mom, for one. But thoughts of her are always surrounded by mourning, loss, and a little bit of anger. My dad. Lots of anger there. What he did to me after mom was gone... I've spent my whole life running from that.

In fact, that's it. I've been running. Running from life itself. Keeping to the shadows, hidden away from any chance of actually experiencing anything worthwhile. Never purposely let a guy kiss me, for example. Never loved. Never trusted. Never made a difference. Never mattered. To anyone. Is anyone even going to care that I'm dead? Will anyone notice? David will notice. That's something anyway. At least he'll have Joey and Lissa to look after him.

Crap. What a total frag-up. No wonder I'm dying in an alley, next to a rusting Nissan Jackrabbit. All the time I spent trying to keep from getting blindsided again by anything and look what happens.

I didn't see the other guy.

But no amount of panic and repentence seems to be making the world get less gray. It's getting cold and dark. And I don't think I'm headed to a happy place...

Chapter #1 (follows Prologue #1)

Ralek Marset was bored. Not only was he bored, but hungry too and the meeting didn't appear to be going by quickly, nor including any meals in its agenda. He stood rigidly, slightly behind and to the right of the King's throne, wondering just how long the old man was planning on drawing things out this time. It seemed that the older the King got, the longer he took with every decision. The current issue that had been brought to the king's attention had to do with a border dispute. Of the six nations that bordered Neerite, five of them had good relations and even trade agreements with King Neville IV. One of those five, Ilyert, was having a problem with a rebel faction that had spilled over into Neerite's lands. The King was being advised by several different ministers on possible ways to proceed in providing defense to the border villages without risking war with Ilyert by interfering in their affairs. Unfortunately, most of the ministers were as old as the King was. The meeting was slow enough that any lesser man might have fallen asleep. Two of the younger ministers already had. Ralek envied them slightly.
Two serving girls came and went with fresh pitchers of water, and he kept his eye on them as they did. They were the only ones allowed into the meeting room while deliberations were going on. Ralek had seen to that early on, when he found out just how long the meetings could go on if they were interrupted. He had also managed to arrange that meals not be served for the same reason, although he had told the King it was to keep anyone from having the chance to poison the entire ministry all at once.
The King ran his fingers through his gray hair and ordered that the border patrol in that area be increased by one hundred men before calling for the next order of business. One of the younger ministers, the Minister of Relations for Odern, had to be woken up, as he was the one next to speak. The man looked embarrassed and bowed repeatedly before addressing the King.
"We've been at war with Odern for several years now, as you know, and I've followed their patterns extensively in that time. I've noticed a recent change in their tactics that suggests they've had a change in leader, and not to our advantage. Their attacks have suddenly become more ruthless and driving, and we recently lost three villages. They didn't take them as they usually would, but burned them to the ground instead, and moved the people out. We believe their intent is to enslave them somewhere. We need to send more troops to reinforce the front, Your Highness. We must stave off this new advance before more land is lost."
"I disagree, Your Highness," the Minister of War said, rising and bowing as he addressed the King. "We are training new forces to send, but they are not ready yet. To send more now would be to weaken the forces here in Netrice. We cannot afford to leave the capital city exposed like that. The men now at the front will just have to hold out for a few more months until the new recruits are ready to march."
"How many more months?" the King asked.
"I'd estimate they need another five or six before they are battle-ready, M'Lord."
"In another five or six months the Oderns may be halfway to Netrice!" the Minister of Relations protested. "I don't think you understand the urgency here! They left the people and villages intact before, satisfied that the people were under their rule. But they are taking our people now. Enslaving them in gods only knows where. For all we know they are killing them once they reach Odern. My contacts have recently been silenced, and I'm not sure how they were found out. I have no news of what is happening within Odern at all."
"The Oderns may have made a brief surge into our lands but they do not have, and have never had in fact, the troops to hold what they take. They are at war on three of their borders and have never committed the troops, nor the funding to make a concentrated effort on any of them. Do you expect me to believe that after the eight years we've been at war with them they are just now finally altering their strategy?" The Minister of War gave him an incredulous look. "I think you are overestimating how far they intend to take this!"
The Minister of Odern Relations twisted the pieces of paper he held in his hand anxiously.
"Your Highness, these are people's lives we're talking about. Your people. You send troops to protect those on our Ilyert border and I say that those who live along the Odern border are no less important than they are. Yet the Oderns are burning those villages! Surely we must do something to stop them!"
"War Minister," the King said.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"You will see that the men are ready to send within three months time. Until then, you will send a contingent of one hundred men to bolster the troops currently at the border."
"But, M'lord…" the Minister of War began to protest.
"That is my command. See that it is done."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"If there is no other business, gentlemen…" the King waited a moment, to see if anyone was going to risk his temper by bringing new business to light at the last minute. No one spoke.
"Then this meeting is adjourned." The King stood up slowly and left the room, Ralek close at his heels.
"There was a new serving girl today, Ralek," the King said as they made their way down the stone hallway.
"Yes, M'lord. She was hired a month ago. According to Mrs. Barrat she has an exceptionally steady hand. Never spills a drop."
The King chuckled.
"She's pretty. Perhaps you should take her to dinner some night."
"As you well know, Sire, my duties don't allow for much time for relationships. I expect she'd be sorely disappointed."
"Mmmm."
Ralek lapsed into silence as he could tell the King's mind had wandered off to some other topic. Though he didn't generally miss or forget much, the King's attention span was growing shorter each year, and always seemed especially short after the meetings with the ministers, as if he used it all up just listening to them drone on. Most days Ralek didn't envy the King and the amount of responsibility that weighed down his shoulders.
It didn't take long for the King's valet, Otto, to catch up to them. The man was thin and wiry in comparison to the King's heavy frame, and it always struck Ralek as somewhat comical to see them together. Otto seemed to have an abundance of energy as well, which contrasted sharply with the King who showed his age more and more.
"The prince has returned, Sire. He is visiting with the Queen as we speak. Also, Lord Ecks is back again, asking for an audience. Shall I allow him to schedule one this time?"
"No. Tell Ecks to come back next month. I have no patience for his complaining this week. Have my son meet me in my study once he's done visiting with his mother. Have lunch brought for him as well, I doubt he'll have eaten. I shall be taking no other appointments today, save my son. Have the Book of Bronne brought to my study immediately, along with my lunch. I wish to reference something."
"Yes, M'lord." Otto bobbed his head and strode off at his usual brisk pace.
"Something's brewing, Ralek. I can feel it. It doesn't feel good either."
"Yes, M'lord," Ralek replied, not knowing what else to say.
There was no more conversation as the two made their way to the main central tower of the castle, where the Royal suites and other rooms for their use only resided. There was a private dining hall, a study, and several other rooms dedicated solely for royal use, or those serving closely with them as Ralek did. Only certain staff were allowed to enter, and it was when the he was here that Ralek could trust the King was safe and take leave of him. Once he'd seen the King safely to his study, he made his way to the kitchens in search of lunch for himself. He estimated that the King would be there for a few hours, but had one of the high guard posted at the study door while he was away. He took lunch into one of the dining halls which was empty of others by now, leaving only a few people cleaning up after the midday mess.
He noticed the newer serving girl amongst them, and allowed his mind to entertain thoughts of what it might be like to spend time with her. He could tell she noticed him watching her, but she kept her eyes averted, looking only at the table she was scrubbing down. In fact, she was so focused on pretending not to notice that she almost didn't notice her name as one of the other women tried to get her attention.
"Maia! Maia!" the woman called, until she finally turned to look. "Yes, you! Aren't you done there yet? There are dishes to be done! Hurry up!" Most of those working finished up and left the room, leaving Ralek and the serving girl alone in one corner of it. He noticed that she seemed frustrated as she finished scrubbing the table, and he got to his feet and wandered over to sit across from her on one of the long wooden benches.
"Troubles?" he asked, trying to seem nonchalant. The look of alarm she gave him suggested he'd failed miserably.
"Yes, I… No! Why would you think that?" she asked him.
"Because if you clean that spot on the table any longer or harder you're going to wear a hole in the wood," he answered, pointing.
She moved the rag aside and looked at it before looking at him with a confused expression.
"It's my job to notice details, Maia. You've been scrubbing that one spot for almost the entire time you've been at this table. My name's Ralek, by the way."
"I know your name. I mean…" she gave him an odd look and swore under her breath.
"You know, most serving girls address me as sir or better," he said, feeling suddenly wary. "What makes you think you can speak to me with any less respect?" He tried to keep his tone light enough to not attract the attention of the few people still at the other end of the room, but let his eyes show her the suspicion he felt.
"Please, sir. I meant no disrespect." She didn't meet his eyes when she said it, and her jaw was tense, as if she were angry.
"I am aware that you started working here about a month ago, is that correct?" he asked.
"Yes sir."
"And where did you work before you came here?"
"Nowhere sir. This is my first… my first job," she looked up at him. "I've not worked anywhere else."
"Why are your clothes too big for you?" he asked bluntly. He'd been noticing that everything she wore hung loosely over her, the shape of her body all but hidden beneath the folds of fabric.
"I…" she paused, as if searching for an answer. That told him all that he needed to know. She was hiding something. He set his dish down on the table and swung himself off the bench.
"Set the rag down and stand up straight," he told her in a commanding voice.
She did as he told her, and he moved around and started patting her down, checking for weapons. She sighed and put her head back as he found a dagger, sheathed neatly in her sleeve.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice echoing slightly off the ceiling.
"Just what is it that I don't understand?" he said, somewhat angrily, as he pulled a matching dagger from her other sleeve. He took one of them and brought it around under her throat. "Perhaps you ought to explain. I'd suggest you do so quickly."
She knocked his arm away and spun from him, towards the table. He moved forward to grab her but she used the table for leverage to push him backwards away from her. Once he was out of range, she pulled a third dagger, this one from a sheathe hidden beneath her skirts. He paused from moving back towards her, taking time to try and determine her next move. She turned and used the dagger to cut open the fabric of her sleeve from the neckline, revealing her shoulder.
"Do you know this?" she asked, pulling the fabric aside so he could get a better look. Her shoulder and upper arm were covered with an elaborate tattoo of a shield with an eye in the center of it, surrounded by flame. He knew it better than most. He turned the daggers hilt-first and offered them back to her.
"I know it. You're a Protector. Why didn't you make yourself known to me earlier? If the King has a Protector now, then…"
"I'm not here for the King," she interrupted.
"Who then? If not the King, who here would warrant a Protector's vigil?"
She bit her lip and looked at the ground, clearly frustrated. He saw her make a decision as she slipped the daggers back into the sheathes she had strapped to each arm under her sleeves.
"You. You're who I'm here to protect."
"What?" he stepped back, not sure he'd heard her correctly. "Say that again?"
"You heard me correctly the first time."
"But I don't need protecting. A Protector watches over someone who is important, like a King or a knight. I'm just the head of the King's personal guard. There must be some mistake."
"It is not my place to question the guardians. I have been assigned to you. I have accepted that assignment and taken my vows. I am your Protector." She put the last dagger back into place beneath her dress as he sat down heavily on the nearest bench. "You are not exactly an easy man to stay near to either, I might add. You seem to have gone to great lengths to exclude others from working near the King. I was supposed to take two months of observance before revealing myself to you. Though you are quite observant." She said the last part more as an admission, and he took it for the compliment it was. As a Protector, her training would have been more rigorous than anything he had ever encountered. He imagined that her skills likely exceeded his own by more than tenfold.
"Well, thank you for that," he replied, acknowledging the remark. "Where do we go from here?"
"First, we tell the women in the kitchen that I won't be scrubbing more dishes any time soon. Then you make arrangements so that I can be within sight of you for every moment of the day without people questioning it."
"In order to do that, I will have to explain this situation to the King," Ralek told her. "I don't know how this is going to sit with him."
"We could leave here if necessary."
"I swore vows of my own, lady! I will not just walk away from them!"
"Very well. Then find a way so that I can be nearby. I was only making a suggestion." She frowned at her shoulder, trying to tug some of the fabric back into place.
"Do you have clothing more… suitable to your occupation? Perhaps you should change if you do," he offered.
"That would be a relief, actually." She gestured towards the kitchens. "This way."
He followed her through the halls, still somewhat dazed. Why would I need protection? I'm unlikely to do anything that could have impact on the whole world or the natural order of things. Protectors aren't assigned to just anyone. He was worried that there had been some mistake. But the Guardians never make mistakes. Do they? His mind reeled at the possibility. How am I going to tell all of this to the King?!
They entered the lesser servants' quarters, a single room with wooden bunk beds in rows, and she made her way to the far corner, where she pulled a duffel from beneath the bed and began to pull clothes out onto the blanketed mattress. Without a word, she suddenly pulled the dress up over her head, slip and all, tossing it off to one side. He stood there, mouth open and staring. She was entirely naked, save her shoes and stocking and a total of four daggers strapped to her arms and legs. She bent over and undid the laces on the shoes, and he pried his eyes away, finally turning to give her some privacy, though the image of her was still imprinted on his mind's eye. She was fit and showed muscle, but still looked smooth and soft to touch, not chiseled in stone as one might if they did nothing but exercise their muscles. A part of him wanted to touch the skin, to see how soft it really was. The rest of him put that thought deeply away, knowing that her vows did not allow for such interaction. She would only touch a person if it was necessary, and expected the same from those around her. He'd have to explain the rules to some of the staff as well. Many wouldn't know what having a Protector in the castle meant. She was possibly almost as important as the King. Or rather, her charge was. That idea just made his head hurt.
"Something wrong?" she asked. He turned to look and saw her still topless, and pulling a pair of thick leather pants up her legs. He turned quickly away again.
"There are taboos on nudity here, um… Maia. Should I call you Maia?"
"That is my name, so, yes," she replied. "What kind of taboos?"
"Well, we don't just go stripping our clothes off in front of others unless we're… well… about to become intimate or something. I don't even think the women do that in front of each other generally."
"I apologize. I assumed that once you knew my identity you would no longer think of me as a woman. I was told you had some knowledge of our vows and ways."
"I do," he said, risking a peek to see if she was dressed yet. He was relieved to find that she was doing up the last few buttons on her shirt, and he turned to face her. "But you still have the body of a woman. I can't help but see that. I've taken no vows of chastity."
"I see." She pulled a leather vest over her shirt. It looked as if it were reinforced somehow, with metal threads running through it, and bore a stitched version of her tattoo on one side. It had leather lacing up the front to close it, and he watched silently as she pulled the leather cord through the holes, tying it down at her waist. She then pushed the duffel aside and sat down on the bed to pull on socks and boots. In contrast to the dress, these clothes fit her perfectly, forming snug to the lines of her body, with the exception of slightly flared sleeves to allow for the daggers. The daggers on her legs had been removed, and she re-strapped them to her boots once they were on her feet. That complete, she belted a sword in place at her hip and tied the duffel up, swinging it over her shoulder.
"Perhaps I can drop this off in your room on the way to speak to the King? It would be silly to have my belongings so far away."
"My room?" he was suddenly reminded of something his mother had told him when he was a child and had asked her if a Protector watched over a person while they slept. Yes, even while they're sleeping. Some even guard the person's dreams if they are able, she had told him.
"Right," he said, suddenly seeing a drawback to that arrangement. "Let's deal with the kitchen staff first." He led the way, realizing that she fell into step at his heels, just as he did with the King. It felt ridiculous to him.

Prologue #1

The girl lay quietly in the grass, picking out shapes as the clouds drifted lazily by. The air was warm and she had kicked off her shoes and stockings earlier to wade through the nearby stream. She wiggled her toes, letting the sun dry them as well as the edge of her dress that she hadn't managed to hold up high enough to keep it from getting wet. Her hands clasped together behind her head, and her eyes were bright as she picked out the possible shapes of rabbits, and pigs, and the other animals she saw within the puffy whiteness moving across the sky.
It was there that she first heard the low rumble of hooves heading towards the farm. She sat up and pulled her stockings back on over her still-damp feet and legs. She quickly stuffed feet into shoes and hastily laced them. She then rose to her feet and ran back home, the clouds forgotten as she wondered excitedly who was coming to visit the farm. Visitors were rare, but father always welcomed them. Mother would cook something special if they stayed.
There appeared to be six of them, all on horseback, with no wagons or flags flying. They were dressed entirely in black, although they looked as if they were wearing armor that had been painted that way. She thought it strange that they should wear armor, but carry no flag.
Perhaps some sort of special guard, she mused as she ran. Maybe they need to not be seen at night. If they work for the king then we will surely have a feast at tonight's dinner. Perhaps father will put down one of the pigs for a roast!
She slipped in around the back, knowing that her father would want to greet them before she would be permitted to be out front to see them up close. She found her mother in the kitchen, cutting carrots into small discs in preparation for dinner.
"Mother! There's visitors out front!" she said excitedly. "I saw them!"
"Yes, I heard. Your father's already gone to greet them," she answered, smiling. "I'm sure we'll find out all about them soon enough. Here." She pulled one of the smaller uncut carrots from the bowl next to her and handed it to the girl, who grinned back at her mother and bit off the end.
"I see you've been wading the creek again," her mother said. "You'll need to clean the mud off the hem before dinner, especially if we have guests."
"Yes mother," the girl sighed. She wondered how it was that her mother never seemed to miss any little detail. She jumped up to sit on a stool and bit another piece off the carrot. "I wish we lived in the city. Then we could have guests all the time."
"But then it wouldn't be nearly as exciting then, would it?" her mother told her. "Then you'd wish you lived out in the country where there was peace and quiet and streams to wade in."
"I suppose. But I think –" she stopped midway through, having watched her mother's face go pale. "Mother? What's wrong?"
"Hide. Now. Do as I say. No arguing." Her mother pointed to pantry door. "Get behind some boxes and stay there until I tell you it's safe."
The girl jumped off the stool and slipped into the pantry, closing the door behind her. She heard footsteps in the house, heading towards the kitchen. She quietly moved one box onto another one so that her hiding place was next to the door and the wall where she could peer through the cracks between the wallboards. It was a narrow line of sight, and she couldn't see her mother, but she could see the men when they came into the kitchen. Two of the men had father, hauling him by his arms between them as he struggled. One of the other men spoke, with a thick accent that the girl didn't recognize.
"I've found you at last, Marah. Did you really believe I would ever stop looking?"
"I had hoped you'd be dead by now, Sirin," her mother said.
"I had hoped quite the opposite for you. It seems that luck has favored my request over yours once again."
"You'd better hope your luck doesn't run out then. Let him go, he has nothing to do with this."
"On the contrary, Marah. You married him. So now, he has everything to do with this." the girl watched as the speaker came into view, a jagged-edged dagger in his hand. She screamed as she saw him slash across her father's chest. She saw the man's face turn towards her and she clamped her hand over her mouth to try and keep from screaming again. The man made a gesture and she heard footsteps coming to the door of the pantry.
"And who's that Marah? A child? Who'd have thought you'd give me so many loved ones to torture today?"
"Please, Sirin. It's me you want. Just leave them out of this."
She heard the men trying to open the door, but for some reason it wouldn't open for them. She wondered why, as there was no lock. She watched as the man named Sirin used his dagger to cut her father again and he cried out in pain.
"I have waited far, far too long for this moment, Marah. You disgraced me that day. I will present your head to my brother before this year is out or I will die trying. But you've been busy having a family, haven't you? I doubt you've kept current with your training. After all, you've only them to protect now. Did you swear to protect them as you did Sir Lawrence?" Sirin cut father again, across the cheek this time and the girl could see the line of blood grow across his face.
"But then you failed the good knight, didn't you? You certainly didn't manage to keep him alive."
"He did what he was meant to do. I was able to protect him long enough for that."
"Yes." Sirin replied, standing and turning to face mother. "He did manage to stop us from completing the summoning. And he managed to seal the portal. But you were unable to take the body with you when you fled, Marah. And you were unable to kill me. You see, I know what will open the seal. When the time is right, the priests will retrieve the vials of Sir Lawrence's blood that we have hidden for safe keeping. Rashtadran will be summoned after all. Your life's work will have all been for naught."
"You're lying. The seal can't be that easy to open."
"Mmmm. You are so good at the game, even after all these years. How much energy is it taking to keep that door closed, Marah? You should be more concerned with keeping yourself alive." The man walked out of the girl's line of sight. "You're right, I don't just need Sir Lawrence's blood. I need yours as well. He connected the spell to you too. But you probably didn't know that, did you?"
Suddenly there was a commotion in the room. The girl watched one of the men holding her father fall to the ground when a kitchen knife flew into his eye. Father turned and punched the other one with his free hand. Once he got that man to let go of him, he lunged forward, out of the girl's sight. For a few moments, she heard banging and grunting and she saw another of the men fall to the floor, his head at an odd angle. Just as suddenly as it started, the commotion stopped.
"No," she heard her mother's voice say. "NO!"
The second one was a wail of despair, and the girl saw her father fall to the floor, his neck cut open. She watched as the last few moments of her father's life slipped away and the life fled from his eyes. She was frozen, eyes wide with horror. She didn't even notice when the men got the door open and came into the room. She just suddenly realized that they were looming above her, looking down as she crouched in the corner. Rough arms reached in and grabbed her up. She kicked and screamed but they were unyeilding as they brought her out into the room.
"Just let her go, Sirin," her mother pleaded. "I'll give you what you want, just let my daughter go."
"Now, see," the man sneered, his hands steepled under his chin, the dagger handle between them, "I don't trust you. Besides, I need your blood. I can have that just as easily when your dead. You have nothing left to bargain with really." Sirin brought his hands down and flipped the dagger up into one of them with an easy, practiced motion. "Although I do like the begging. I never hoped to see you beg. You were always so tough."
The girl could see that her mother had a large red splotch across her face, as if she'd been struck, and several small wounds that were bleeding.
"Put her on the table. Let's cut her open and see what's inside a Protecter's daughter anyway. After all, it's such a rare occurance."
The girl flailed her legs wildly, trying to keep them from getting her onto the table. For a moment, one of her feet gained purchase on the edge of the thick, heavy wood and pushed backwards away from it. She wasn't strong enough, however, and they managed to throw her down hard on her back, the air in her lungs escaping her and leaving her coughing for a moment. One of the other men came over to hold her feet down and Sirin peered down at her with a sickly smile.
"Aaah, how sweet. How old is she now then?" he asked, pulling another thinner dagger from his sleeve.
"Let her go, Sirin. I'm warning you."
"WARNING ME?!" Sirin roared, slamming the thin dagger down through the girl's hand and deep into the wood below, pinning it to the table. "You are in no position to give me warnings, bitch. You owe me. I want to hear you scream. Can you give me that? I want to hear you beg for your own life. This child," he brought his fist slamming down on the girl's stomach, and she cried out in pain. "This child means nothing. EXCEPT. Except that by hurting her, I hurt you. I want you to watch as I take every last drop of her blood, one agonizing scream at a time." He turned and cut across the girl's thigh with the jagged edge of the knife, and her high-pitched screams pierced the air.
"You won't have it!" the girl's mother screamed, lunging forward and pulling one of the swords from the scabbard of the nearest of the men holding the girl down. She turned and slashed at Sirin, cutting deeply into his arm before spinning and kicking the man holding the girl's legs back away from the table. The mother turned and slashed at the next man, who was holding one of the girl's arms. Sirin drew one of the two swords at his belt and stabbed it down into the girl's thigh, high near the groin, embedding it so deeply that it too stuck into the wood of the table below. The girl's screaming filled the room, causing the mother to pause. Sirin drew the other sword and took the jagged dagger and pinned the girl's opposite shoulder to the table with it, the blade tearing through the muscles and impaling into the wood beneath. The girl's vision swam in front of her as she struggled, wanting to get away, but only making the pain worse with every movement. She turned and saw her mother put out her hand and one man seemed to fly away from her, crashing into the wall. Sirin advanced towards her, sword at the ready, and the mother brought hers up to meet it as he swung.
"You'll be unable to use that little trick on me this time. I am warded against your magicks." The two seemed focused entirely on one another as they struck at each other again and again. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, there was a sword protruding out of mother's chest, and she looked down at it with surprise.
"NO! Damn you! She's to die SLOWLY!" Sirin moved forward and stabbed one of his own men through. The man let go of the hilt of his sword, which he'd thrust through mother's back, and mother fell to her knees. Blood leaked slowly out of the corner of her mouth.
"Mother!!!" The girl cried out, but her wailing fell on deaf ears as her mother crumpled sideways to the floor. "NO!" The girl felt something snap inside her, breaking open and rising to the surface. It was hot and angry. She turned and looked at Sirin with more hate than she'd ever thought possible to hold in one small heart, and the world around her was suddenly white hot and filled with the sounds of men screaming. Then the world went black as she fell into unconsiousness.

Dreaming #2

(Note: This is not meant to be part of Dreaming #1)

I wanted to write it down. I'd come into town specifically to do so, and now it seemed as if everything I tried to put down with my pen just smeared into illegibility. It took me a while, but I finally found a typewriter - a new model with a small, plastic, roll-out keyboard and a paper roll like an accounting calculator might have.

I keyed in my thoughts on the situation... They were coming, these aliens, and we couldn't stop them. They were almost here. And when they arrived, I planned to be there, waiting. Those around me were planning to be waiting too, but armed to the teeth with guns and ammunition. I wanted to talk to them first, find out what they wanted, but everyone around me assumed the aliens had malicious intent.

They arrived early. Hell, I was still typing when they did, chronicling my thoughts and ideas about what they might want, what to do when they arrived. The gun-toters were there waiting though, so all-out war suddenly burst into action around me.

I'm still not sure why they picked this small farmtown to show up at first.

There were a few people who believed as I did, and they hid in the shadows at first. One woman, in her fear, grabbed my hand to drag me to safety. That's when I realized I was still just a child. No wonder no one had listened.

We ran along the alleyways, trying to dodge away from the battles. I saw armies of aliens coming down main street like some sort of angry parade. The "spectators" for the parade, however, were armed with firehoses which they played across the street, knocking the aliens down to the pavement. Then the ones with the guns came in. It wasn't long before the aliens I saw had guns of their own, and the people fighting them were falling like dominoes that had been lined up neatly. Waves of bodies fell before them as they moved into the town.

Then I saw them.

"Stop." I told the woman who dragged me along. "Look."

The two were lying on a picnic blanket, bathed in sunlight. They had matching white dresses and matching golden blonde hair, and one could only assume by their beaming faces that they were mother and daughter. They lay there, relaxed and ignorant of the violence around them. The aliens were shooting all around us, and the townsfolk were shooting back, but no bullets came even close to the two on the blanket. The woman let go of my hand as she ran forth to warn them. I watched as a rain of bullets fell upon her.

I moved forward slowly, but with confidence now. No bullets would touch me. I didn't feel the anger and fear that the others did. The aliens wouldn't hurt me. The townsfolk didn't even see me. I crossed the field and headed home to the farm unharmed.

Untitled

I sighted down along the length of steel before me, keeping the target lined up as I waited for my moment. I kept myself in motion, dipping and swaying back and forth so I would not become the target myself. I checked to make sure the load was secure - none would be lost before reaching it's destination.

The target watched me, following my every movement, trying to anticipate my next turn. Thus, the ideal opportunity continued to eluded me, I needed another advantage.

I moved to the next level and changed from my initial, silent, descent to one that yielded such sounds as might distract my target from my intent...

"Vrrrrrrrrrr, Vrrrrrrrrrr, beep-beep!, Vrrrrrrr, Vrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

Success! The moment was mine! A great opening appeared, as the need to keep it closed had been forgotten amidst my distraction technique! I pushed forth, straight and true, filled with determination...

The target realized my intent almost too late - some of the goal was achieved, but not all. Only half of the load had been delivered into the opening before it slammed shut. I pulled back, the remainder of the load sliding forward some with the motion.

The target giggled at my look of frustration, and I sighed as I scooped out a fresh spoonful of cereal and began again...

Dreaming #1

We ran.

There was nothing else we could do but run. Marna was pregnant too, and there was no way she was going to let them take her baby once it was born. There were five of us, and we had no way of truly knowing if we could trust one another. The world was falling apart around us, and those who didn't conform to the new order were killed. We could tell, as we passed from place to place, who was just conforming and who believed. Some knew us for what we were. The conformers usually turned a blind eye. The believers gave chase.

So we ran.

We headed for the mountains. There were less people there, and we could learn to survive in the wild. We'd have to. But we needed supplies first. And the Burms had supplies a-plenty. No one knew where it all came from - the brightly colored clothes and blankets, the bags and boxes and cans of food, the medical supplies - it all just suddenly arrived, driving into towns across America in huge gray trucks. Hell, no one even knew where the trucks had come from. Burm warehouses opened up nationwide, and if you didn't go to get your Burm-approved clothing and other items, you were marked. So most people went. It's not like it cost them anything - just their dignity.

Mind you, we did go. We dressed ourselves in green, the mutest color we could acquire that stood a chance of blending into the forests across the mountainside. We got those things that would help us blend in as we headed west. But we left by way of a truck dock, slipping out the back quickly and quietly. We weren't going to stand there and be identified at the checkpoints at the front of the store.

But we were seen leaving by a believer. We were running again, praying for the black of night to conceal us. Praying the mountains would welcome us as we rushed frantically towards them. We lost them for a while, but when we hit Denver, Marna went into labor. Something wasn't right, she didn't look good. She wanted something for the pain, and she was bleeding. We built a plan to get her back out afterwards, and split up. My job was getting her to the hospital, and getting the baby out after it was born and checked out...

Tinkle, tinkle, little star

Tinkle, tinkle, little star,
please don't pee in mommy's car.

arcing in the air so high,
like a rainbow in the sky.

tinkle, tinkle, little star,
please don't pee in mommy's car.

Untitled

My right is made of silver
My left is made of gold
My right is steeped in memory
My left is new and bold

My right is twisted fate
While winding centered true
My left doth braid in harmony
In truth, it's one of two

My hands, when joined together
They court a shadowed dance
My hands, when joined together
Help me find balance.

Vamp #3

You might try to tell me it's love, but you'd be wrong. When you find that the blood pumping through your heart is no longer your own, you will also find that the heart itself has lost it's capacity for such emotions. The very marrow of my life has quite literally run dry.

But she is still more than a mere sexual plaything. I've had many of those. Felt their lives slip away with an exquisite moan from their cooling lips, their bodies arched in pleasure yet frozen in fear. I may hate their stench, but I love the feel of them. The blood pulses faster, first in arousal, then in terror as they realize what lies in store. But once I have them, they cannot pull away.

But she knows. That first night, she saw me and she knew me for what I am. And while others fled into the shadows to escape me, she knelt down, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, waiting for death to consume her. Waiting for me.

She never questioned, when I did not take her then. She never struggled when I led her back to my home, and stripped her before the fireplace. Perhaps she believes that if she serves me well enough I will grant her death. She does not know how much the torment in her eyes excites me. How I drink in her suffering, richer than royal blood.

Vamp #2

Except for her.

It's not that she stinks of it any less than the others. Although the perfume that seems to linger in the room once she's gone is both light and tasteful. But she sweats from her pores like any other mortal. I should know. I have to bathe and run the wash every time she leaves...

And yet. I let her come. Every week she reappears, and not a word is spoken. She arrives, disrobes in the foyer, and advances to my bed. She may still live, blood pulsing in her veins, but I have devoured her time and again. Each time, once she's gone, I vow that she will die the next time. But each time, at the moment of climax - I have not taken her...

Vamp #1

Ever since my transformation, I can smell them. Their putrid stench is almost overwhelming to the point of nausea. Their moist, sweating flesh and the odors eminating from it stands between me, and the warm metallic splendor I need to survive. If I did not need to feed upon them I would leave them far far behind me and rest atop a high mountain in cool clean air.

Some are worse than others. Not only do they stink of their mortality, but they challenge it by covering themselves in an undulating skin of fatness. Others go the opposite direction, pulling their muscles into taught, hard strands as they push their bodies beyond the limits. Either of these kinds are hard to deal with, although I think I hate the fat ones more. Having to push my teeth through a layer of lard before reaching the life-giving veins is something I find revolting.

Then again, they are all revolting to me now.