From alt.pub.dragons-inn Fri Sep 30 19:08:15 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7721 Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!gatech!news-feed-1.peachnet.edu!news.duke.edu!eff!wariat.org!malgudi.oar.net!sun!vax.cns.muskingum.edu!hsexauer From: hsexauer@muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Subject: [Legacy] To catch the mouse Message-ID: <1994Sep24.131715.1@muskingum.edu> Lines: 177 Sender: root@sun.cns.muskingum.edu (Operator) Organization: Muskingum College Date: Sat, 24 Sep 1994 17:17:15 GMT Far from as confident as she had sounded to Laurenth, Kieriah was praying fervently to the Sylvan Huntress as she ran. Her own strength was waning, though she had been in substantially better condition for a chase than Laurenth if only because she was accustomed to it. she begged silently. She could hear the Shekiren gaining behind her as she made every effort to get as far from the place she left Laurenth as possible. Kieriah skidded around a corner and through a doorway, caroming off the frame as her shoulder contacted it painfully. There was another way out across the chamber, but that was the obvious thing to do. She looked up frantically and found what she had hoped to see. She jumped and caught hold of the smoke blackened chain suspending a lantern and climbed it to the ceiling. Not satisfied there, she wedged her back against the wall and braced herself in the corner among the shadows and spiders that nested there. The lantern on its chain swung lazily for a bit, but settled back to stillness just as the first of the hunters slammed into the chamber. The cursory glance the Shekiren afforded the place never included the ceiling, so they missed seeing Kieriah and hurried out the second door. Satisfied they had continued, she dropped out of the rafters and brushed the spiders away in revulsion. She left by the same door she entered and fled back the way she came. Kieriah noticed with dismay she had lost track of her direction in her flight, but had no time to stop and reorient herself. There was no telling when or if the Shekiren would realize their mistake soon enough to double back and catch her. She wasn't even sure if the sounds she heard were real or only false echoes produced by the rush of blood in her ears. Kieriah slipped into a crossways and down another hall. She followed it until it dead ended, and turned back to open one of the doors on the hall. The first one she came to was either locked or the release mechanism was badly rusted. She fiddled with it for a minute trying to disengage the release. The pounding in her ears urged her onward. She spun and dove for the next one some twenty feet down the hall on the opposite side. Reaching for the handle, a sound made her fling her head up like a startled deer. A Shekiren stood at the end of the hallway, just now entering. There was no doubt he had seen her. He shouted to his comrades and raced closer. The handle under Kieriah's hand wouldn't move. She leaned back and kicked it with all her force. It rattled encouragingly. Kicking it one more time for good measure, it burst inward. She flung herself inside and slammed the door behind her. Her worst fear came crashing down on her. There was no other way out. Not even a window to escape through. She drew her favorite daggers grimly and backed up to give herself space. There was only one way to end this. Either they died, or she did. The door swung open on protesting hinges, adding to the dire atmosphere Kieriah had begun to feel. All three Shekiren rushed into the room, recognizing at once their prey had no escape. The woman stood forward with the two males flanking her. "Such a merry chase, but all good things must come to an end I think," she said flatly. Kieriah saw her marble forehead was dry of perspiration, even though her own was slick with moisture and her hair clung to the back of her neck. They were barely even breathing hard to show for the long chase she had given them. "So will you kill me now?" Kieriah snapped viciously. She lowered herself into a guard position. One of the males quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "By no means child. We give you the opportunity to join us. You'll know power as you never have before," he coaxed. "No thanks, I'd rather not join you in hell." "It is not hell, as you so quaintly put it child," the woman corrected with a smirk. "Look at us. You are like us, of our blood. We merely enjoy a better life than you have, and we offer you the same. You will command those in this Vale as well as the dark creatures you have seen. We have abilities you can only dream of. And all it takes to become one with us is a painless touch that we may transfer the power to you as well." The Shekiren woman spread her hands in welcome and smiled at Kieriah like a benevolent god. Kieriah's hand moved faster than the blink of an eye. She flipped her dagger in her hand to grasp the point, and sent it tumbling end over end to bury itself with a meaty thunk in the woman's breast. Its point sunk deep and found her withered heart. She dropped like a stone and did not move again. The two remaining stared at the body, stunned. Kieriah shook a knife out of her arm sheath, dropping it into her hand. The remaining Shekiren howled in rage and fear, and attacked the slender girl facing them. The Lyorn girl backed up into a corner to keep her back protected and reduce the front she needed to guard. With both hands flashing, keeping two foes at bay, it gave her little chance to take the offensive. Ordinarily Kieriah was quite adept with her preferred weapons, having had them since she was three and practiced with her parents and brothers. Against the Shekiren, she felt like she was reduced to a novice even though she was doing admirably fending them both off. These had been true blooded Lyorns at one time, who were raised in the time of the tribe's strength. As skilled as the present day Lyorns could be, they would be hard pressed to match the skills of an ancient whose whole culture stressed such a life. Great gaping wounds from Kieriah’s blades showed through the shredded cloaks the Shekiren wore. What would be grievous injuries on mortals hampered them not at all, nor did they feel the pain of such. Relentless strokes rained down on the Lyorn girl, wearing her quickly. She began to miss openings, and struggled to parry the thrusts. As much as they pressed their advantage, the Shekiren's blades never touched her flesh or left wounds. It took a measure of supreme control to pull back the strokes a hair's breadth before they tore into skin. Almost contemptuously one struck her wrist and flicked her long knife out of her nerveless fingers. It skittered away across the floor, out of the girl's reach. Kieriah fought with the strength of desperation, knowing there was no way out for her. Her last concern was to take one or both of them with her. Her valiant struggle ended quite quickly with one Shekiren stepping into her thrust and letting the blade sink into his side where it lodged in bone. He wrapped his pale hands into her collar and slammed her into the wall behind her; Kieriah's head connected with the wall in a loud crack. She slumped to the ground dizzily, unable to see for the lights that flashed in her eyes. Her skull pounded in time with the roaring of her blood in her ears. The Shekiren stepped back and peremptorily commanded his fellow to remove the annoying dagger from his side. Freed of that encumbrance, he looked down on Kieriah triumphantly. She was conscious, and vaguely aware of her surroundings. Her lips moved in a silent prayer. she cast out frantically to her goddess. The thought ended in a frightened whimper. She cringed away from the icy hands she felt reaching to cup her face. Tiny hairs on her skin prickled. Ryll's warm, compassionate voice soothed the distressed Lyorn. With a tiny cry of relief Kieriah abandoned her will to the sure touch of her goddess, letting the comforting presence envelop her. She sank into a welcome oblivion. The cold hand touched Kieriah's cheeks and a surge of something leeched from those hands into her body. It spread with voracious intent to consume, but Kieriah no longer felt any of it. She was not aware of anything in the world. -- hsexauer@muskingum.edu Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats. -- H.L. Mencken