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From: cgirard@metz.une.edu.au (The Blade of Malchrntyne)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [T&R] Genesis of Timelord: Part 1
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Date: 31 Aug 93 07:42:17 GMT
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			Genesis Of Timelord

	Prologue.

	The windows were shuttered to keep out the rain, but so
ferocious was the storm that droplets of water were forced
through the cracks, forming puddles on the floor.  The darkness
outside was lit periodically by vivid flashes of lightning,
accompanied almost instantly by crashing thunder.  It had been
raining continually for three days, but this night the storm had
broken, pummelling the house with almost insane fury.
	Inside was a bustle of activity, centered not on the storm
but a woman groaning with the strain of childbirth.  Midwives
shuffled to and fro preparing for the delivery of the child,
while in the back of the room sat a single figure, draped in a
seer's mystical robes.  He sat motionless, content to observe the
activity around him.
	For a moment the labour pains eased, and the woman looked
over to the seer.
	"I'm sorry that this storm has delayed your departure," she
panted.  "Observing the birth of my child is a poor second to the
Seer's Council."
	"Think nothing of it," came the kindly reply.  "It may well
be that I was intended all along to be delayed here, for the
birth of an heir is a mystical time, and I may be able to discern
much of the child's future in the event."
	"You are most kind," the woman smiled.  A servant entered,
and the woman looked at her quickly.
	"Any news?" she asked.
	"Nay, lady Bravya," the servant replied, "but the storm is
most fierce.  Perhaps your husband took shelter along the way."
	"He must be here!" Bravya exclaimed, "for the birth of.."
	She clenched her teeth as the contractions began again.
	The senior midwife hurried over, then signaled to the
others.  The room became a place of frantic activity, Bravya
panting and grimacing in pain as the time of birth came closer. 
She screamed once; twice; three times.  Then the midwife was
holding something in her arms, something that began to cry
weakly.
	"You have a son!" she cried, and her shout was accompanied
by a massive bolt of lightning that lit up the night like day.
	"A son," Bravya repeated weakly, "we have a son."
	"Aye," said a deep voice from the door.
	Heads turned quickly; in the doorway stood an imposing
figure, over six feet tall, with piercing blue eyes.  He was
soaked, dripping water on the floor as he approached the bed.
	"Oh, my love," Bravya murmured, "did you see?"
	"I saw," he smiled, "I arrived just in time to see the
moment of birth." He looked at his newborn child.  "You have done
very, very well."
	The seer rose and approached the bed.  Gazing at the infant,
he murmured under his breath, reciting the ritualistic formulae
with which he was able to see, although unclearly, into the
future.
	"What do you see?" asked Bravya worriedly.
	"Much that is clouded," he replied.  "I see journeys, much
traveling, and bloodshed.  His will be a difficult path, but one
that he is well suited for traveling."
	He looked at the couple.
	"You said earlier that your husband had to be here for this
birth," he addressed the Bravya.  "Why such urgency?"
	"It was foretold upon my joining with Hoelt that my husband
must witness the birth of our first child," she replied, "else
some doom befall our family."
	"Not that I really believe in that sort of thing," Hoelt
added lightheartedly.  "I am a plain man, and such warnings have
never come true in my experience."
	"Do not make light of such things," warned the seer, "for
though you may not believe in them, such predictions have a knack
for coming true, in the end."
	"Whatever you say," he agreed.  He looked again at his son.
	"He will need a name, for use until his time of Calling."
	"Well, my lord," said Bravya mischievously, "since you
arrived just in time, we shall call him Timelord, as he will one
day be lord of all your affairs."
	"Timelord, indeed!" he laughed.  "Very well then, it shall
be so."
	The senior midwife moved over.
	"It is time for the lady to rest," she said.  "You can see
her in the morning."
	The room emptied slowly, with Hoelt the last to leave.  As
he left the room, he decided that even though he did not believe
the prediction at their wedding, he would not tell his wife that
he had arrive seconds after the delivery of their son.

			****************
 
	The years past as Timelord grew up in his father's house. 
Hoelt was a moderately prosperous fur dealer, and so was often
away from home for extended periods buying and selling.  When at
home he was a doting parent, full of love and laughs. 
	Bravya ran the home, commanding their few servants, and
spending most of her time caring for her son.  Although having a
nanny to care for Timelord when she was busy, Bravya spent as
much time as possible with him, raising him in the best was she
knew. 
	So the years went by.  Timelord grew from a small baby
into a healthy toddler, then to a tall young boy.  At five he was
tall and fit, his curly brown hair cut at shoulder length.
	One night in Timelord's seventh year Hoelt returned home in
a state of great excitement.  He breezed into the sitting room,
caught Bravya by the waist and twirled her round and round the
room, laughing all the while.  He planted an exuberant kiss on
her lips, then danced over to the fireplace. 
	"I have done it!" he cried joyously. 
	"Done what?" asked Bravya breathlessly. 
	Hoelt moved over to his wife. 
	"Do you remember that great trade caravan expedition planned
all those months ago," he said more seriously, "designed to
foster trade and relations between ourselves and the other
lands?" 
	Bravya nodded. 
	"It's going ahead!"  Hoelt could no longer contain his
excitement.  He strode around the room, his eyes shining. 
	"After all this time, the greatest expedition ever to set
out from this land is about to commence.  Traders from
everywhere, as well as diplomats, will all gather together and
set out to meet the rest of the world.  Through all the great
duchies, the principalities, the great cities - all will be
visited!" 
	He turned again to his wife. 
	"And we'll be with them," he whispered. 
	"That's wonderful!" cried Bravya.  Then she frowned.  "But
what about our son?  He's nearly at the age of calling..." 
	"It's all been taken care of," he interrupted.  "There will
be other children coming too, and teachers have been provided to
care for their education.  Priests too, so if our journey isn't
over by the time he is nine, then he can still go through the
ceremony.  This is the opportunity of a lifetime!" 
	"Oh, Hoelt!" she said, embracing him warmly, "When do we
start?" 
 
	The next month was a time of frantic activity all over the
land.  Although not every trader could possibly make the journey,
everyone knew that if it were a success it could result in great
riches for the land.  The best the people had to offer was
provided; livestock, grains, farm animals and produce, precious  
metals and stones, everything was gathered in readiness.  Also
prepared were the political delegations who would be there not
only to ensure that trade deals went smoothly, but also to
strengthen and in some cases make diplomatic ties with the
governments they encountered. 
	In total the expedition numbered two hundred men, women and
children.  There were farmers, blacksmiths, stone masons,
bakers, butchers, teachers, priests, servants and guards, a wide
cross section of the entire land.  They set out one fine summer's morning, 
cheered on their way by those who waited for their eventual return and the 
great profits it would reap. 
	Hoelt was one of the leaders of the trade caravans, part of
a council of people responsible for the organisation of the
various produce caravans.  They kept the herds in order, settled
minor disputes, and planned how to keep everyone fed and happy. 
	The leader of the expedition was Count Astoph of Myle, who
as both head of the caravan and chairman of the diplomats was the
most powerful man among them.  It was he who made the main
decisions, set the goals for the journey, and who ultimately
ratified all judgments made by the council.  
	The plan was simple, yet wide in scope.  The caravan would
wind its way firstly through the nearby duchies, spending
relatively little time in their friendly neighbour's lands.  They
would then spiral outward through increasingly distant lands,
finishing in Generica, the largest mainland trading city, and a
place of great prosperity.  At each capital city or palace, a
delegation would meet with the leaders in trade and government
from that land, in an effort to seal trade routes and diplomatic
ties.  Once their travels were complete, the caravan would return
home, bearing news of their epic journey. 
	The first stop was the duchy of Valiast in the Great Heath,
where the duke, Gallan Valiast, would join the caravan with his
youngest son and a small body of his personal guard.  As a close
friend of Astoph, Gallan wished to join the caravan to lend his
skills at diplomacy and visit the other earls and barons of 
the lands. 
	They reached the duke's house in the late afternoon.  While
the rest of the caravan made camp, Count Astoph went up to the
house to meet his friend. 
	The two men shook hands. 
	"Astoph, my old friend," said Gallan warmly, "it has been
too long.  How are you and your wife?" 
	"They're fine," replied Astoph.  "And what of you?  I hear
your youngest son is growing well.  What is he now?  six?" 
	"Seven a week ago," Gallan said, "and just as excited as I
am to join this momentous expedition."  He turned and gave a
brief order to a waiting servant. 
	"Stay for dinner," he offered, "we will be ready to leave at
first light, along with a detachment of my own personal guard,
just in case we run into some trouble." 
	"Gladly," accepted Astoph, and the two moved into the manor.

	The caravan moved out at dawn, the wagons, horses and
livestock stringing out for some considerable distance.  Count
Valiast's personal guard rode up and down the flanks, chatting
casually to the people, and keeping an eye out for trouble. 
	The captain of the guard, Captain Skerg, rode at the head of
the column, his brightly plumed helmet gleaming in the sun. 
Inclined to slight portliness, he constantly talked of his past
exploits in various armed services, pausing only to give orders
to his subordinates.  Those who rode with him soon grew tired of 
his constant talk, but decided to humour him. 
	With so many families making the journey, there were a fair
number of children in the caravan.  Although their time was
pretty much their own, teachers had been provided for them to
see to their education.  So at specific times during the day
classes would be held, ranging from letter-learning and counting
for the young to apprenticeship and scholastic services for the
older. 
	Timelord was in a class of eight other six and seven year
olds, among them Valiast's son Rollik.  By nature a quiet boy,
Timelord usually sat quietly and listened, seeming not to crave
the attention of the others in the class.  He was by no means
slow - in fact he was brighter than all the other children except
for Rollik. 
	Rollik was in many ways the antithesis of Timelord, being
outgoing, talkative, and ready to take the lead at the nearest
opportunity.  Although high-born, he readily mixed with the
others in the class, and the teachers were genuinely fond of him. 
Timelord liked him as well, though he usually didn't say very
much to him during the classes. 
	That changed about two weeks into the expedition.  It was
early evening, and Timelord was returning to his family's
caravan after watching some of the guard train.  He often did
this when the caravan had halted for the night, thinking it would
be very fine to one day serve in such a force. 
	He was passing a darkened part of the camp when he heard
voices coming out of the darkness. 
	"Hey, rich boy," whispered someone nastily, "who's gonna
help you now?" 
	"Yeah, teacher's pet," came a second, nasally voice, "we's
gonna teach you a lesson!" 
	Muffled laughter filled the air. 
	"Unhand me!" Timelord could easily identify Rollik's voice. 
He crept towards the sounds, making no noise.  A natural cleft in
a rock face formed a kind of dead-end alley, and it was from here
that the voices came.  Timelord sidled up to the entrance and
looked in. 
	Four boys, all two to three years older than Rollik and
Timelord, had Rollik trapped in the cleft.  Timelord thought he
recognised two of them - a pair that had a reputation as
troublemakers and bullies.  Knowing that Rollik had no chance
against them on his own, Timelord decided to lend a hand.  As
quietly as he could, he made his way towards the group, staying
close to one wall to avoid being seen. 
	The boys were pushing Rollik around, obviously building up
to something more violent.  Rollik was trying to talk his way out
and occasionally attempting to force his way past them, but to
no avail. 
	Then, out of the corner of his eye, Rollik saw Timelord
approaching.  Immediately he began to sniffle and sob, changing
rapidly from a belligerent youngster into a snivelling, pitiful
baby. 
	"Go away!" he said between shuddering breaths.  "I want my
daddy!' he cried, then crouched on the ground, hands over his
head, bawling loudly. 
	"Crybaby," sneered the closest boy, standing over him,
"crybaby, crybaby!" 
	The others took up the chant. 
	"Crybaby, crybaby, crybaby, cry...." 
	The mocking chant broke off suddenly when Timelord, with the
most ferocious shout he could muster, leapt onto the back of the
closest boy, bringing the two of them crashing to the ground. 
	The one who had been standing over Rollik's sobbing form
turned his head to see what was happening, but he too fell to the ground,
grimacing in pain as Rollik, with a seemingly miraculous
recovery, punched him in a very tender spot. 
	Timelord leapt up quickly and motioned to Rollik. 
	"Let's get out of here!" he shouted. 
	Together they turned to run out of the trap, but were
blocked by the other two boys.  Behind them, they could hear the
two they had downed approaching.   Desperately they stood back to
back, knowing they were bound to lose this fight. 
	There was a flare of torchlight at the mouth of the cleft,
and an armed figure appeared. 
	"What's going on?" he shouted. 
	The boys took one look, and panicked. 
	"The guard!" one of them shouted, and they ran for the exit. 
Three of them got away, but one, the boy Rollik had punched, was
caught by the guard as he attempted to flee. 
	Rollik and Timelord walked slowly out of the rocks, relieved
that they had been spared what would have been a violent fate. 
	Rollik turned to Timelord. 
	"My idea worked, didn't it?" he said with a smile. 
	"Idea?" queried Timelord, puzzled as to what he meant. 
	"You know, to pretend that I was scared of them so you could
creep up on them easier," Rollik explained. 
	"I guess it did," said Timelord, thinking it over as they
emerged into the light.