She came to the castle with nothing, not even shoes on her feet. And she was shunned for being 'lower class'. Her family ... when she dared speak of them, was not poor nor were they in a ranking position. They were cruel, insane people, though.

Her story would wrench tears from many people when she told it, all save those most important members of the council - the Lord and Lady of the castle itself. The Lord seemed rather put off that this ragged girl had made it into his Castle at all, past his guards and onto the grounds before someone finally caught her.

It only added insult to injury when the haggard and ugly man who did catch her had raped her and then threw her directly back outside for the guards to find. No one bothered to ask her name, Kell. No one bothered to ask her if she needed medical attention, which she most certainly did. Not until much later, did anyone even remember to find her - clinging to a dirty corner in a forgotten wing of the huge rambling castle.

"You ought not to be here," one of the two servants hissed, worried. "You ought to get away when you can."

"I have nowhere else to go," she whispered back, voice unable to carry farther than a few feet. "This was my only hope, and it's gone... What happened to the kindly lord who I read about?"

The other servant girl gasped and reached down close to Kell's face. Though she sounded harsh, it was more worry for herself and her fellow servants, that she spoke. "Do not mention that any changes have come. Please do not. It is very important."

"So he is different," Kell said, listlessly. She picked herself off the floor, and didn't bother to dust her ragged clothing off. Cobwebs clung to her black cloak and her prematurely silvering blond hair was covered in it. "I hoped that coming here I'd be able to ask him for help. It's obvious that won't happen."

Kell was a reasonably intelligent young woman, and clearly educated well beyond the servants. That she could read was a clear indication of course, that she spoke as though they could grasp everything she'd say was another. People didn't assume much around these servants - but neither were they dull witted.

"You should go," said the first again, a dry hiss. "It will not be safe. There will be visitors and he'll want everything right."

"And I just do not fit in with that rightness, do I?" Kell said, still not even looking at the pair of servants with her deeply-lined tear-stained grey-blue eyes. Her face was red in places from crying, but normally her skin would have been a gleaming tanned-fair color. She had no freckles, not even a single mole or birthmark marred her. Her feet were the exception to that, of course, now that she'd been running and hiding for who knew how long? They were crusted with dirt, blood and grass, callouses had hardly had time to form before she ran away from her terrifying home, so they would have been delicate and in well-fit shoes.

Her fingernails were dark with grime, dirt and blood as well - not her own blood, though. The foul man who had first grabbed her as she sought entry to the castle had not been quick enough to bind her hands, and she scored several deep marks on his arms and face before he took her. That was her one small victory: he didn't enjoy her nearly as much as he wanted to, not with sweat going into the cuts on his skin.

The pair of servants had had enough of watching her stand there blankly staring. "You will catch your death if you stay," the second said, "but we've work to do. If you're caught, it isn't our worry any more."

Kell blandly saw them leave, up the tall arched hallway and around a distant corner. There weren't any people in this portion of the Castle, and she wondered why that was. She was hardly brave enough to go seeking out the Lord again, nor even his chill and drawn Lady. The images that she had in her books did match those two: only in a faint way. The Lady had once been a lovely if a tad thin woman, who was now almost gaunt and had her dark hair drawn up in a tight well-kept bun. The Lord... he had been a strong looking man, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, a long nose and cheerful eyes - that was a photograph, not a painting, she'd seen of him. When she took one look into the pools of murky brown that passed as his eyes two days before, she knew that something dreadful had happened to them.

Was it worse than what her family had in mind for her? She'd never really know.

There was something gnawing at the edge of Kell's mind, almost like a dull red glow in the back of her vision. Kind of like a bitter tang of metallic aftertaste, blood on the back of the tongue. And a buzzing, almost like a distant but large hive of wasps, creeping closer to her ears.

A chill ran through Kell, as she realized that she still had the Sight - and it wouldn't go away. Never had she seen such a taint, as she turned to look. It was beyond the castle grounds, and even though she was apparently staring at a blank stone wall, she could clearly see a small number of outlines - people, beyond.

That she could smell and taste their approach made bile rise in her throat. She had seen such powerful mages pass through her township once or twice, but they had been brilliantly yellow-golden in color, a taste of ripe mango, the trilling of a sweet bird, in her senses.

She wanted to hide, deeply in the shadows of this large Castle, but she didn't even know her way around. All she could do was hope to find a dark place that was well-away from everyone else in it, and avoid these evil mages who approached.

***

She almost didn't see him, and certainly though she knew that he was a mage, she didn't sense much off him at all. The man standing in the hallway where she blindly staggered looked up at her with a bit of surprise. He had long, shaggy brown hair, tied back with a simple cord over his slender back. His skin was quite pale, but not so pale as to make her think he was something other than human.

"You should not be here," he said, his soft voice echoing through the hall. It was a deep, quiet and sensual voice, but it held menace. "There are - you have hardly been trained, why do you look at me like that?"

"I've never been trained," Kell said, still somewhat limping as she approached him. Beyond, however, was a concern that she hadn't counted on. The Lord and Lady escorted by a pair of their personal guards.

"Never-" the man said, but he turned and hastily bowed to the Lord. "Sire, Majesty," he said.

"What is that thing still doing in my Castle?" Said the Lord.

"I think sire," the man said, trying to edge himself between her and them, "that she has merely not been escorted properly out. The needs of the court guard obviously outweigh tending to this waif. Allow me to-"

"No, no," the Lord added a moment later, interrupting the man, who stiffened and his eyes became hard, "I think, she shall join us. This may prove more productive than I had anticipated. Come, Weyland, surely you could use the amusement as well."

The guards moved to intercept Kell, she couldn't even move from her spot. Weyland, the shadow mage, could only stand aside and watch as they took her arms in their strong hands, and removed Kell into the main hall.

(( next: lbf-2.htm ))

The great hall was huge, the biggest single room that Kell had ever seen, and she'd been to the university near her home town for studies. The hall here was decorated in 'early hideous' and treated with 'gore-splattered' colors. It might have been spirited at one point, but the music coming from the corner was being made by a group of terrified looking bards who seemed about ready to drop.

Kell offered no resistance, as the guards tossed her before a wide table. The smell of food made her mouth water, but the stench in her mind's-nose and the backlash of taste from those standing behind that table made her want to gag.

She hesitated, but raised her face to the men behind the table. Four younger ones, and one tall, hugely imposing adult stood there, attentive and curious. The gazes of the younger men were dwelling upon Kell's shabby bodice, but she still had an attractive figure if not one in clean condition. The adult however, looked her over and a familiar, horrifying grin spread across his thick lips.

"Master Carnos," said the Lord to this dark mage, "I seem to have a spare ... creature."

"I seem to have a need for just such a thing," the Master announced. His voice was gravel across slate, deep but so sharp that it hurt Kell to even hear him. His proximity and his foul aura threatened to overcome her entirely.

"Then I believe we have both solved certain problems, in one easy step." The Lord said, almost happily. As he turned to Weyland, he added, "thank you for locating this little waif again, Weyland. You should help yourself to the mutton - it's quite well spiced."

Kell fell to her knees, as two of the younger men approached around the table, and began appraising her as though she were a hog or piece of furniture. She glanced at Weyland - the look of horror on his face was edged with pity and sorrow, and for a moment she had a flash of what his aura really looked like.

Though he was dangerously angry, Weyland didn't dare challenge either his Lord or the Master present. His dark aura was a remarkably deep shade of violet-blue, and Kell fought for another sense off him: over the din of real food and half-imagined stench, she tasted a smooth leather-cream from him.

Then she was dragged outside into a carriage which Master Carnos had arrived in, and bound to it with a heavy chain - which had clearly been used for such things in the past.

***

The ride to Master Carnos' keep was comfortable only in theory. The temperature outside was chilled with the early spring weather, here and there were patches of leftover snow. Inside, somehow, there was a rich warm feeling as though they were all beside a large hearth. The pits of hell might have held more comfort, though.

The chain that bound Kell was magically tight, a little too snug around her wrist. One hand was left free, and with it she pushed back her dirty hair from her face. She somehow found the courage to look at Carnos fully, and found that she was staring into a hateful but crafty visage indeed.

"You shall do nicely," he iterated. He seemed very pleased that his little venture to the Castle had yeilded such a catch. Kell still had no idea why he was so plesed, but she knew it could only be worse than her home had been.

For several hours they traveled, the huge black horses drawing this large carriage never seemed to tire and Kell sensed something odd about them as well as everything else about this bunch.

"Your horses are enchanted?" She finally said, her voice scratchy from disuse recently.

"Yes, indeed they are." Carnos answered, "you are quite observant. That will help. I do so hate it when my test subjects are not articulate."

Kell went blindly cold at that. She couldn't say even one more word, the entire long journey.

Two days worth of travel, stopping at locales which obviously were well used, and Kell sank into a deep fearful depression. What did he mean, really? Could he be just toying with her? They just needed a servant or something, right? She could work as hard as the next cook or ...

"No," she breathed, as they exited the carriage. The huge looming keep that she was brought out before was something she'd only ever seen in nightmarish stories.

Bolec Keep, she thought. It was a thing out of a book she'd only dared to open once. Darkness poured from the tall slit-windows, as though light was reversed there. She realized that it was her magical Sight that showed her this: she could hardly even see the real keep standing there. Its bones and skin of stone and wrought iron were plainly visible as enchanted time and time again. Its windows would have been beautifully crafted stained glass things - stained with what, Kell wondered.

It had two spires, north-west and south-east, and one in the center which was twice as high. If the main bulk of the squared off Keep was fairly tame in shape and design, these spires were something dripped down from terrible skies, molten metal twisted by a demonic hand.

That was not her Sight - that was how they actually looked, with points that crept toward the sky as though to pierce it.

Kell fainted.

***

She cursed herself for being so weak. For when Kell woke, she was bound in a small room. It was dark, smelled awful from urine and death and stink of sweat. Horrid things had happened in this small cell. She could only imagine what of those things would be happening to her.

Any illusion of her becoming some kind of house servant were destroyed when the door to the cell opened. Carnos and two of his silent attendant sons stood there.

"Come along," he said, holding out his hand. A great, meaty thing with an armored finger - or was it a replacement done in magical-mechanics? Kell tried to resist taking his hand, but whatever power this man held, it included that which told her she would be best off taking the offered hand.

His grip was harder than iron, and cold. The metal almost seared her, it was so cold. "Give her that," Carnos said, of a tall pewter pitcher.

There was water in it, but Kell wasn't sure whether she was meant to drink it or wash with it. She stood trembling, staring into the water's wobbly reflection. There were too many ripples to see the younger of the two sons approach.

"Do whatever you will with it, it's all you're getting for a while. I'd wash up a bit, myself," he said, picking at the edge of her cloak which was stained badly with grass and dirt. His own hand was manicured carefully, but his fingers showed signs of being burnt or scarred - whatever he did in his spare time or perhaps punishments from his hulking father?

Kell tried to drink, lowering her head to the water and splashing a lot of it onto herself in the process. The other son laughed, quietly. He became silent when his father glared at him.

"That is to be refilled for you, whenever it is empty. But don't get the idea that you could do anything else with it." Carnos said. "You will be fed once per day. We hardly want you to wind up starved to death before you are of no further use."

"What is it that you'll be doing with me, then?" Kell finally asked.

With a broad, ugly smile showing even and large teeth, Carnos said, "you're to be our test subject for magical experiments."

"Our curse-catcher," said the second son, and this time he was not silenced by his father.

***

Kell screamed but her voice was cut off by a hand over her mouth. Carnos didn't care much for her voice, even though his sons delighted in it. The knife that he used to bleed her was horrific in its design: curved like a trough, pointed at one end that spread out into a bit of a spoon where blood pooled and was collected into a vial beyond.

She had to admit, though, that this particular device was the least of her worries. Every time they collected her blood, there would be something else later on that would come back to hurt her. Sometimes only emotionally, indirectly, but usually it was a curse that would be tracked directly back through her blood.

This time, apparently, they were learning how to make some kind of homunculus, using scrapings from her skin, bits from her hair, urine and blood, as well as spit and other such things that they regularly collected.

Kell was moved back and forth from her cell to one of several places. An operating theater, a dank dungeon, a summoning circle. She was kept alive by the food she got - even though it wasn't much, it wasn't slop meant for an animal. It wasn't the prime cut of anything either, but at least they had cooks who knew what they were doing. She tried to keep herself clean, especially after events like the casting-tests, and ...

She had realized after the second time that one of Carnos' sons had 'bedded' her, not to try cleaning herself completely. They wanted her to concieve. For whatever reason, she was made to comply.

She learned several months later, when they dragged her into the operating theater, that they intended to use this unborn child for some ritual. Kell didn't stop screaming for more than a day, and then, only because Carnos stood in the doorway of her cell and cast a silence spell over her.

Nine months, she guessed, was how long she'd been there. Endless sessions with one or more of the brothers and Carnos left her skin mushroom white and crossed with small, deep scars. After her first couple tries at cleaning her clothing, they simply took those away from her and cast a 'warmth' spell on her cell.

There was something so deeply ironic about this, that Kell would think about it and laugh. These horrific people liked their creature comforts, and they didn't even deny them to their curse-catcher...

Another five months of this, another half-formed child stolen from her abused womb, and Kell had gone into a kind of shivering torpor. It was after she learned that the painful abortion she'd had last month had supplied the 'family' with enough energy to summon a rather important demon.

That jolted her back to reality. She sobbed into her hands, as she remembered why she'd run away from home in the first place. Her parents thought they could seek power and fame by summoning such a demon as that.

With her as the sacrifice.

(( lbf-3 ))

A strange, familiar color nagged at the back of Kell's mind. It was so distant, that she thought she was just imagining things. But it got closer, and stronger. Strong enough that she could concentrate on it and wonder: where had she felt this before?

When she remembered, she stood straight up in her cell. Could she ... somehow? Get him a message? She'd never been trained - he knew that, she'd told him.

Weyland.

It deeply surprised her when one of the Keep guards - not one of Carnos' sons - came to get her. They were rougher than the young men, it was entirely possible that they weren't even either alive nor human. They didn't listen to anything she'd ever said, and they always treated her exactly the same way.

They took her, naked and weak, into the main entrance hall of the Keep. It was the first time she'd ever even seen it. It was boxy, filled with weapons on the walls and sculptures of steeds and people she didn't dare look at too closely.

Weyland stood alone, in contrast to the number of people from the Keep who surrounded him.

"I suppose it is for the best," Carnos said, with a half-bemused look on his face. "She's almost outlived her usefulness. If you can get anything else out of her, I'm sure you'll find her quite tolerable."

"I have no intention of abusing this girl as you have," Weyland said, flatly and with his eyes fixed on the much bigger man. He extended his hand, and Kell bolted to his side. Her legs weren't used to running - she fell into his grasp, and he folded his big dark cloak around her. "And I think you might examine your ties with Lord Empal, as he has... degraded further."

"Is that some kind of threat?" Asked Carnos, but Weyland shook his head.

"Hardly. I merely mean to suggest," he said as he started to turn Kell and head outside, "that our Lord has become lost even deeper in his own mire, and pays less and less attention to his prior ... dealings. If you do visit our Castle again, though, Carnos," Weyland adopted a narrow-eyed glare, "do not bother coming to my portion of it. That section belongs to me, and always will. It was there before the rest of the castle was built, and my work is not to be disturbed. Even by the likes of you."

He guided Kell out, and though she could still feel his warmth and his aura comforted her, she could feel the overriding anger of Carnos and his sons. A year and a half with them had given them all the advantages.

She felt five pinpricks of curses, each placed by one of the men. One of them she identified as Carnos' pride and joy -something he'd been working up to for months. It crept over her spine and welled up in the back of her throat. It did nothing more, though - none of them did anything further than make their presence known under her skin, braced up beside the remains of her soul.

Weyland rushed them to his carriage, which was guided by two large bay-colored horses, and had a coachman which looked more mechanical than flesh. Once in the carriage, Weyland held on to Kell tightly. She cried as though she'd never done before, trembling and small.

It took several days more than the ride out, to get back to the Castle of Lord Empal. Before their first stop, Weyland took out a bundle of warm dark clothing and helped Kell get into it. "When we get to the castle," he had said, "don't leave my side. There are curses on you that even the guards will recognize. I'm going to have to work quickly to get you cured of them."

"You can do that?" Kell asked, between half-sobs. She hadn't quite stopped crying since leaving the Keep.

"I ... will try."

***

At the castle, Kell followed Weyland in, and did as he instructed. She couldn't move very far away from him anyway, her fear drove her back to his side constantly. She worried when she was away from him for more than an hour or so.

When she had finally become accustomed to the place again, and used to sleeping on a bed instead of stone floor, Kell allowed Weyland to question her about what all had been done to her.

How, in the course of only two years, Kell had run from her home in terror to this fairy-tale castle upon a tall hill. Thinking that the Lord present would be able and willing to help her if only she could speak her problems to him... All the stories she'd ever heard of him had led her to believe that he'd have done so. Yet to have come all that way, almost two hundred miles mostly on foot running from phantom fears, for nothing...

"He - he wouldn't eve-even look at me," Kell said between huge sobs. "I th-thought he was k-kind and jus-st..."

"And he had been," Weyland said, quietly. "Once. I ... still do not know what has happened to him. I've been trying to scrye it, divine it from any means I can locate, but even with all this," he indicated his library where they had come to sit and talk, "I have found nothing. I know something had troubled him, but I still don't even know what that might have been."

Kell nodded. "I th-think he's b-busy," she said, trying to sober up and stop crying. "And lo-look at me, I'm all blub-blubery."

A smile turned onto Weyland's lips, and he said, "Kell, after what you've been through, I'm honestly surprised you aren't just screaming still. Blubbering is okay."

She half-laughed, coughing out a giggle through the sobs again.

***

Eventually, after about two weeks, Weyland brought a mug of smoking thick liquid toward Kell. The look on his face told her that this was not stew or something nice.

"What is it?" She asked, as she took it from him.

"It... is a preservation potion. I cannot lift certain of those curses they placed on you."

"Oh." Kell said, watching the liquid as it roiled. She knew that her face showed tremendous disappointment, and she didn't try and hide it. After these questions and tests and hexing and... nothing was working?

"I will try, but I have to have time to study them. This will... well, it will at least stop them from progressing." He looked away, his dark blue eyes unable to meet her own.

Then, he asked an odd question: "when is your birthday, Kell?"

Kell had to think hard about this, since so much time had gone by without light of day nor sense of night.

"I ... what season is it?"

"Late fall, almost winter. It was spring of the year before this that we saw you first here."

Kell quickly thought, always quite good at maths. "I'll be eighteen in a bit, just before the winter moon."

"Two weeks," Weyland sighed, "that isn't much time. I'm glad I got this to you now."

"Why, is that important? My eighteenth birthday?"

"Because, Kell, most of those curses on you are going to erupt into something big, on that day." Weyland said, with no hint of emotion. "And the only way I can think of to stop them from killing you on their way out is to stop them with this." He touched the mug, and said, "drink it."

They stood in the hall where they'd first met, which was deep within Weyland's portion of the castle. There were scattered windows, and they overlooked the already-snowy castle grounds. There was a fine coating of snow piled up in the corner of the windows where they stood. Kell turned, and drank the potion.

It tasted awful, but she gulped it back. She trusted Weyland implicitly, though she still didn't even know why. He hadn't said or done anything to harm her, and -- he'd come to rescue her. She'd done all the talking, she knew next to nothing about him. Suddenly she wanted to start asking him: what's your birthday then? how old are you - you look so young but your aura is so old? when did you become a wizard? you said the castle was built after your part? But she could say nothing. Inside her she was becoming aware of a strange stillness.

She turned, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm so cold," she said, and it was true, she was suddenly shivering, even though the potion looked to be almost boiling.

"That's the potion," Weyland said. "It will ... preserve you."

"I can't move," she said, voice wavering.

Weyland wrapped his arm around her, turning her with some difficulty to face the windows. "Shh," he said. "Just be calm."

He cradled her face with his long fingers, and then kissed her - she saw the tears in his own eyes, though they would dry before gracing his high cheekbones. "Hush," he said again.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She could no longer move, her arms were wrapped about her body, and she leaned slightly on the stone sill of the windows. Her sightless eyes glazed over, and the sorrow on her face had not been wiped away by Weyland's kiss. She looked so sad.

(( lbf-4 ))

Kell became aware that there were a number of shining auras near her. She would almost say they tasted like tea and chestnuts. Though she wasn't looking in that direction, the auras were behind her, she thought they looked rather yellowy, a friendly color.

Moments later, she thought for the first time, about how strange she felt after drinking that concoction of Weyland's. How good it would be to be relieved of the curses and how she wanted to ask him so many questions.

"It's so strange, she's always looked so sad. I don't even know why someone would make something like it," said a young female voice.

Another added, "I think she's waiting for something."

Kell listened, and slowly realized that they were talking about her. As though she were some sort of ... statue? Her eyes blinked, and she swallowed for the first time in ages.

She heard two gasps, behind her - the girls walking Weyland's hall. Ever so slowly, Kell's body reverted from stone into flesh. The two girls, both around thirteen or so, stood spellbound. Their eyes were huge with wonder or fear, and one of them reached out to touch Kell's shoulder to see if she were real.

"Where is Weyland?" Kell said, her voice cracked but still her own. It was only moments before she realized that the ground outside the window was bathed in warm summer light and heat. She turned back to the window, placing her hand on the warmed glass. "It's summer..." She said, a whisper.

"I didn't know you were a real person," said one of the girls.

"I wasn't a statue when I was born," Kell said. Somehow, her faint sense of humor had returned to her. But something was very wrong - well, not wrong exactly, but just not quite in place. How could it be summer? It was almost dark winter when ...

"Where is he?" She asked again, and the first girl glanced down the hall.

"I think he's teaching. Should ... we go get him?"

"Teaching? Here?" Kell said, mystefied. Now things were strange. She got her feet to move, and gazed around her. The hall had changed a bit. It was better lit, clean, and had sounds of some few people nearby in the chambers that led away from the hall.

"Of course teaching, that's why we're here," said the second girl, offering Kell her hand to steady her as she fumbled a bit on the slick stone.

"We're learning to control our magics," the other added.

"Of course," Kell said, still barely over a whisper. She looked again around her, and sought out the rich darkness and sweet aftertaste of Weyland's aura. She saw it, packed behind half a dozen pinpoints of glimmering gold, yellow and green. Other students, she guessed. "He's in there," she said and headed toward the big braced wooden door.

The door creaked open, and several of the nearby students looked up as though they really didn't want to be interrupted. Weyland turned from his big book on a desk, and then strangely the color left his face.

He'd somehow grown a nicely tended mustache and gotee, in however long Kell had been frozen in place. He looked somewhat different. Lines on his face were a bit more drawn, but that was largely because he'd been concentrating. When he gathered his wits, he stepped around the big table and ignored the protests of the students.

"Kell," he said quietly, half smiling and half looking terrified. She snugged herself under his ever-present cloak, and hugged on to him tightly. He returned that embrace warmly and didn't seem to want to let go.

"Teaching? I thought this -" She said, but Weyland placed his finger on her lips.

"It's... been a bit longer than I expected." He admitted.

Kell didn't say anything, but he knew that look on her eyes was going to lead to another horrible heartbreak and the last thing he wanted to do was make her cry. The last thing he wanted to do was tell her that he hadn't succeeded.

"Four years," he said, when she wasn't able to ask. Kell gasped, and sobbed, but didn't break down. Instead she let herself cry and tried to compose her thoughts in the mean time. He'd clearly been able to remove *some* of the curses, because she hadn't been able to think this easily in such a long time. She felt better - really. Kell wiped the tears from her eyes. They came right back, but it was one small triumph for her.

"But then you've got other people to help you," Kell said, glancing through runny vision around her at the students. They peered at her from their seats, and from the hall as well. "What happened?"

Weyland led Kell out of the room and into the hall, instructing the students to continue their discussion about herbal pastes by themselves. Kell knew that wasn't going to be on their minds: they were all quite interested in what he'd been doing getting all snuggly with a girl their age.

"Lord Empal had a strange change of heart," Weyland said with worry. "Right after your ... preservation. I think it's more than just a fluke, that, I think he'd planned it."

"But teaching is something you wanted to do anyway," Kell guessed. "And it looks like you do it well."

"They all are very gifted, like yourself," he said.

"I'm hardly gifted, and I've never been taught," Kell sighed. The youngest of these students knew more than she did about the very things she could do. But Weyland was still holding something back, and Kell knew it. "What about me, Weyland, what's happened? I can feel it, you've released some of the curses."

"But not all," Weyland admitted quietly and not meeting her steady teary-eyed gaze.

"Not all." She repeated. "So.... what is to be done?"

"Now that you're awake, moving quickly is the only thing I can do. I... don't know if I can stop the last curses from coming out."

"But it's way past my birthday," she pointed out.

"True," Weyland said, "but they have all been on hold, all waiting." He didn't much move, and Kell suddenly understood the problem.

"I've got two weeks," she whispered, a question which he nodded at.

"I do not wish to endanger the other students, but you are why I have enlisted them anyway..." Weyland said, and tugged at her arm toward his study. "But I think something else is gone strange too." He gave a purposeful sniff at the air.

He was not an aura sensor, Kell knew that - he had to squint to see auras. But she could feel them with all her senses at once. She twisted her head around, gazing with wider eyes around the castle. She could see far more clearly and for a greater distance than before - because those curses the men in the keep had laid down on her were swept away.

"It's... what an odd smell." Kell said.

"Describe it," Weyland encouraged.

"It's... well, there are all the sparkly banana bits and sprinkles of nice," she started, and Weyland couldn't help himself laughing. "It's what you asked!" Kell laughed as well, it sounded as though she was describing an ice cream treat. "But then all around, surrounding the whole thing, is like a big dark sheet. A cap - it tastes like rubber, the tire kind - we're enclosed in it. It's everywhere."

Weyland nodded, "I thought as much. But ... there is little more we can do about that. I think that is the Lord's influence. Whether it's there because he wants to protect himself, or us, I don't know."

"It's a protection spell? It feels more like one person's aura, all... bloated out beyond them." Kell said absently.

"One... one person's?" Weyland asked, suddenly worried.

"Yes. Who would have such an aura?" Kell asked. "I've never met one like it, I dont' think. I would remember that taste."

Weyland stood, eyes worried. "Kell, when you came, it was just after his Lordship changed dramatically. He changed right back or near enough, just after ..."

He grabbed Kell's hand, and heedless of the looks they were getting racing through the halls, they ran toward the lowest dungeons of the place - where Kell insisted that they would find the center of this odd aura.

***

"But if he's here, like this, there must be a reason," Kell said, but Weyland was furious, and frantic to do something.

Something about the young man who lay in a drugged torpor on a straw bed, in the middle of the dungeon lowest away from the castle. It was the Lord's son, Mifrak. Who had been missing for years before now - and returned to him shortly after Kell had been sent away.

"I know you're right," Weyland said, "but... Perhaps he's the key to this."

"Weyland, he's cursed all over him, just as I was," Kell said, touching the young man's arm. She pulled her hand away, as though hurt. "It reeks of Carnos' work." She glanced around at the aura only she could see. "But ... this is nasty. It's like he's scattered his awareness, his aura is so thinly spread, and it's nowhere near his body at all. But it does belong to him."

Kell looked back at Weyland, who was pacing around the dusty room.

"He was sent back here," Kell said, "you said right after I'd been given away."

Weyland nodded, deeply. He gulped back an angry word or two, "yes, it's how it seems."

"So Weyland, we can't just stop him from .... working, like this," she indicated the inert man's form, "if it stops, Carnos will know immediately. Even from his distance away at his Keep."

There was a long, awful pause.

"Kell, I suppose you're right. I should be concentrating on something far more important." He looked at her, and forced a grin over his lips, "getting those curses off you."

(( lbf-5 ))

The few scant days that Weyland had to work out what to do about the last two, very powerful, curses was spent frantically scouring the library again. He would ask Kell questions about what wording she might remember. Which curse might be broken by what means was a mystery to her - she'd only been their curse-catcher, not privy to having them lifted off her.

But it was barely enough. After one week, even though the stars said that it was far from Kell's 18th birthday, Kell started to feel woozy more often. The bitter taste of that last strong curse that Carnos had stung her with was resting in the back of her throat.

She didn't know what it would do, though. She knew only parts of it had been tested on her before, and they wore off. But this was something far more deadly, she knew.

She would surely die, if they were to be brought to the surface, even though there were only two of the five left. (The remnants of any other curses drifting on her had been swept away by the students - one of whom had a terrific eye for such things and was greatly rewarded for his work.)

It was in this week, a precious touch of fingertip to cheek to move away tears led to passionate kissing, and to an almost desparate lovemaking. Kell thought it was the most exquisite thing in the world, and she knew that Weyland hadn't held anything back from her. But both of them knew that this might be the first as well as the last time they would be together.

Neither of them hid their relationship from the students, why should they? Rumors would fly as they will, and among a large group of teenagers of varying experience, it was better to have everything in the open. That seemed to be the best idea, anyway.

Too bad that didn't last.

"What do you think you are doing?" Said a voice, deep and booming, behind Kell. Weyland looked up from his work, across the room, and paled. Kell didn't move.

It was Lord Empal.

"Why is this girl here?!" He bellowed, grasping her on the shoulder tightly, and turning her around to face him - to confirm his worst fears. "She was not to be brought back, not by the likes of you - how did this happen?"

He tossed Kell aside, and made his way toward Weyland, who skittered away almost comically behind the desk, rushing over to Kell. He stood bravely between her and the Lord, even though the older man (or, the seemingly older man, Kell was never sure how old Weyland really was since he kept dropping hints about the castle and such) towered over him.

"You've got your deal," Weyland said, darkly. "We know about that. You know what things they were doing to her there."

"What things they do to her," Lord Empal reminded his court mage, "are part of that deal. They prevent, or ought to be preventing, any other form of attack from that part of the countryside."

"Then explain the raids on Westerdell," Weyland spat, "a month after she was taken, that little village could do nothing to protect itself from the Keep's forces. She'd been there long enough to seal that deal, Empal," Weyland was quite angry. "And then just three months after that - one of my contacts in Valebrook lost his entire stock of herbs to another firestrafing run by their mounted men - another place your Lordship apparently is meant to protect from the Keep." He looked to be about to start another spat, explain another attack, when Lord Empal straightened.

"I see. Well, perhaps it's all for the best." He waved his hand. Kell doubled over, a knot in her stomach blossoming into a bright pain. She suddenly saw a whole new aura around the Lord. Instead of its subtle rippling of shades, it was a vibrant red-black, ragged, raging. He'd been hiding it, expertly, from everyone for who knew how long. It left a burning afterimage on Kell's mind's eye, and a foul taste in her mouth.

The Lord walked away leaving Weyland and Kell in the study - the students were across the hall and unable to hear Kell's wimpering cry.

"Hurts -- Wey-weyland, it hurts so much," she said.

The pain crept up, from her stomach and into her spine. There, it dwelled for a moment, and finally shot out through Kell's skin. A bright point of light, sickly green, crawled about the back of her neck, and Kell began to scream wildly.

She couldn't get her head to straighten, it was as though the curse had pushed her head aside. In fact, it was as though it was pushing her whole body aside.

Something was forming on the back of her neck. It had plastered her hair down in a horrific wet mess. Foam bubbled out apparently from her skin. A dark shape began to show, just as three of the students ran into the room.

Weyland held his hand up, warning them away, but they came forward anyway. "What can we do," asked one, breathless and staring at the thing on Kell's back. It looked rather like an insect trying to free itself of its tight coccoon.

Kell was trying to yell, but nothing was coming out. She'd completely lost her voice, and was now struggling to breathe. Weyland held her up, but was having trouble keeping away from the monsterous thing rising out from her.

He turned to the students. "Get the others - all of them. You're to assemble here and contain this, you all know that spell. Together you ought to be able to do that." He turned to another of the trio, "in my study there is a black canister, near the large taber. Bring it to me, and prepare to help the others."

They bolted away, and the shining green of the curse creature began to take shape.

It was a demon, perhaps stronger than one which Weyland had ever seen. It had been packed away inside Kell, and was waiting this long - so long - for release. It would be quite angry, especially since its arrival was delayed. That would upset everything.

But Weyland was angry as well. The boy who'd gotten the canister returned first, shortly before twenty some students arrived with their wands at the ready or their hands glowing - there were so many different ways to cast any given spell.

Weyland took the canister, and opened it. Inside it had a small vial of something. "Get ready to cast," he announced, the demonic shape had all but broken free of Kell's back.

Kell wasn't breathing. Her body had gone almost entirely cold and was covered in moist sweat. The back of her neck wasn't technically 'cut', but it had a line of blood dripping from where the demon's fierce ragged tail finally exited.

"NOW!" Weyland yelled, and the students as one performed a hex that pitted their sizable will against this one rather confused and newly reborn demon. It shrieked, throwing sparks and green energy around - to little avail. Twenty three forces against itself, some stronger than others.

One, a younger girl that Kell would have said was the strongest witch among them, twisted her wand in the air, and scowled. "Begone," she hissed.

The demon turned in its glowing golden-yellow prison, twisting around, and shrieked. Its feet and tail shrank away, a whirlpool into nothingness. Before long, it was gone entirely. Their spell had succeeded.

But Kell lay in Weyland's arms, quite dead.

He gasped 'no' between each panting sob, and his hands fumbled with the vial. He tried to clear his head, his hands moved more quickly. Then, with the vial open and Kell's vacant eyes staring up at the stone ceiling, a trickle of blood coming from her dry mouth, Weyland began to incant something.

Three of the students ran from the room, having guessed what he was about to do, while four more had passed out from the exertion of containing the demon. Several more were on guard for Lord Empal. The rest watched without saying anything.

Lord Empal had come back to the room, barely in time to see the demon destroyed. He said nothing, but watched over the heads of all the students left in the room. His face was far from expressionless. A deep, great hatred stood on his eyes. The students still left with any energy in them gathered between the Lord and the rest of the room.

Weyland chanted in an old, old tongue. He placed the vial, a thick red liquid coming from it, over Kell's lips. It struck her tongue, slid down her throat. Nothing would stop it, but she could hardly swallow it consciously.

Half a moment later, Weyland's chant finished, he clutched at Kell's body and rocked with it, hoping that it was not quite too late.

***

It seemed like an eternity, the next few minutes. Empal's eyes narrowed as he stared at the students, but they met his gaze with steely expressions of their own.

Weyland barely noticed, but Kell's body moved. He backed his head away from her shoulder, and her eyes snapped open - red rimmed, their pale grey-blue irises the most impossibly thin sliver around her huge pupils. She gave off a hissing sound, as air escaping from her throat tried to form into words.

Screaming was her first sound, but it did not last long. It was hardly what anyone might expect. She calmed down so rapidly that even Wyland was worried. Would it continue to work? Was this right?

Kell relaxed in his grip, rolled to her feet, and stood up staring the whole while at Lord Empal.

"You did this to me," she said, darkly. "I came to you for help and you did this to me." She stepped toward the group, and they parted for her. Weyland stood, staring at her blankly. There was a deep stain down her back, where the demon had risen.

Lord Empal said nothing. He allowed Kell to approach.

"Everything that I read, whatever happened to that man? In the perfect castle, with the loving wife?" Kell glowered, and Weyland knew what she was going to say. He wasn't sure he wanted to try stopping her. "And a son - oh yes, a son who vanished without a trace some years back. Who lays in the dungeon with his power spread so thinly over the castle that he can't even dream of waking." Her voice carried through the silent room. "You did that to him, too. Sent him to Carnos at that horrid Keep of his, and you made him into a tool! Was that what you'd do with me?! Make me into a tool?"

"You were a simple bargaining chip, ironically arrived at just the right moment in time to be of any use whatsoever. Why else would you have been allowed to live?" Empal said, and the students didn't dare even mutter to one another. Now that his powers were exposed, those of a strong blood-mage, they knew that he could crush any one of them if they stood alone.

"You are a monster, and monsters need to be destroyed," Kell said, finally and flatly. She was not emotional, not crying, not yelling.

"So you would fight me? In my own castle?" Empal almost chuckled, but then he realized that ... Kell was still dead. It was why Weyland was shrinking away from her, instead of embracing her and marvelling at her 'recovery'.

One cannot kill a revenant, not in conventional ways, and Empal knew that. He narrowed his eyes and said, "fine. When you are ready. We shall duel to the death."

"Sounds fine with me, outside. Ten minutes." Kell announced. That seemed to take Empal by surprise.

He chuckled and turned. "Ten minutes it is. Weyland, you might want to coach the creature on handling a wand, before she comes outside."

(( lbf-6 ))

Empal left the room, and the students all started muttering. Weyland stood and approached Kell carefully.

"Kell, you can't be serious. He's a whole lot stronger than I ever-"

"He's a monster," Kell said again, "and I must deal with him as one. Don't you think I deserve that much? Or his son down there?"

"Kell there are some things you need to know first!" Weyland said, frantic. "The revivication isn't -"

"You saved me," Kell said, turning and suddenly her face was full of love. Weyland choked. Then, she asked, "... isn't what?"

"Isn't complete. It didn't work. Not the way I thought it would, anyway." Weyland admitted. "You ... your body will decay, Kell, I've put your soul back - it'd fled. But it's ..."

The students knew better than to hang around close by - privacy issues and all that. But they clung in groups near the door, in the hall, trying to listen.

Kell walked to Weyland and saw that he shrunk from her touch. She looked at her hand, it was growing pale grey.

"I'm still dead?" She said, "but I... I actually feel pretty good. I can think clearly for the first time in years."

"That's because the curses are finally gone," Weyland groaned, "but... the last one killed you, and I did this to you..." He turned away, but Kell refused to let him get any farther.

"Weyland, you did what you could. Why ... are you ... what must I do to be..." Suddenly Kell was a bit confused and wary.

"You will need something, a potion I can make - I'd read about it somewhere. There are ways to keep your body from degrading."

"Is there any of it right now?" Kell asked, thinking.

"I mixed up some, and put it in a preservation box, yes."

"And ... can it repair wounds this body might get?" She asked, oddly.

"It can, it's supposed to act like lifeblood."

"Then, go get it ready. I have a duel to win."

Kell walked away, head high and bare feet too cold to notice the rough stones of the floor.

***

The day was lovely, cloudless. A breeze tickled leaves above and around the wide castle grounds, and threw some pollen into the air from flowers. The students of the magic school that Weyland had assembled clung around him, he'd found the potion he would administer to her.

Kell stood with her face to the sun, bathing in the heat. She could feel auras all around her - including the odd bubble of Empal's son. It was a bit wobbly, she could somehow feel it reverberating.

How would this play out? She didn't even care. All she knew was that the rage inside her had turned into a sleek hatred, and she knew nothing but curses.

She could use that to her advantage, surely. Empal approached with three guards and his wife in tow, the woman was trying to stop him from going through with this match.

He shrugged her off, and removed his cloak. Kell was dressed only in a simple long tunic that had been given to her since the last clothing she had was stained beyond polite wearing.

She had no wand, no defensive spells, knew very little other magic than her innate ability to sense auras. But that was more than Empal thought she had. With his arrogant smile plastered on his thick lips, he settled his hands on his hips and rolled his head around.

"I'm surprised you actually allowed the wench to follow through," Empal called to Weyland. "She's going to cost you," he then warned.

"You will need to learn how it feels," Kell said right back, snapping her eyes onto his form. "Tendrillis Muris" she said, and from the ground sprang a dozen thick vines of grass that wrapped around the Lord. He was doubtless taken by surprise, but his mouth was left free.

He shouted a hex that burnt through the air, and cut a path brightly around Kell's body. Her hair swept back, and her tunic caught flame, she ignored it for a moment until she decided she didn't much feel like being burnt again after having been healed. She thought about it, and muttered, "vis ab aqua" and the flames were doused with magical wetness that came from nowhere.

"This is much easier than I ever thought," Kell said, glancing at Weyland who was just as surprised as anyone to see her incanting properly. She noticed that the tunic was now burnt and soggy - neither of those things she wanted to deal with. She removed it, and her pale scar-covered body was exposed to all. She seemed not to notice, nor care. She should have been well rounded, in her eighteenth year, but she was almost gaunt. Not because of her state of death, but because she'd been starved for so long. Her pale skin was crossed with grey, scars that had long lost their blood.

"Do you like this? What you see? You did this." Kell said, holding her arms wide.

This merely enraged Empal. He broke free of the tight vines, but before he could get off another curse Kell looked him over and said, "are you sure you want to do this?"

"Constrictus!" He yelled, and Kell knew what would come next. Her body felt as though it was in a grip of steel. She didn't know enough words.

But she wasn't growing short of breath, because of this. She didn't require air - only to speak. Her heart - was still. It could not be crushed. She took a step forward, and Empal stood straight as a pole.

"What is this," he whispered.

"This is me, teaching you a lesson." Kell snapped out of the curse, and said, "acerbis bilis."

Empal began to vomit, hard, onto the ground. Great heaves wracked his body, and even his guards backed away a little. No one moved to help him, that would be breaking some rule.

Kell walked up close to him, and pulled his head up, careful to aim it away from her. "You forget, I spent nearly two god damned years in that place, listening to nothing but curses. Having myself bled, raped and beaten. You did this to me, this is the least you deserve. The very least."

She threw her hand down, and he continued to wretch. "This duel is over," she said, "for the moment."

She walked back to the students, and no one was sure whether she wanted another tunic.

***

People in the castle were dark and snippy. Empal was well aware that he'd lost his own duel, but he was now more worried about other outside things that grabbed his attention. All those attacks on bits of his land, they were coming to a head soon. He knew this, he'd helped plan it. But... Not so soon.

Kell watched Weyland teaching, as they distractedly got back into some kind of schedule. She sipped at the black-green liquid that served as her blood. It wasn't bad, really, tasted a bit like grass mixed with oil. Only a bit.

When the class broke up, the students mostly avoided eye contact with Kell, even though she had a smile on her face most of the time now. A strange strength had come into her, but many people mistrusted it - they mistrusted the undead.

Weyland continued to create the concoction for her, it wasn't all that difficult but there were some more rare herbs which would run out sooner or later. They were among those which his contact had lost, and he wasn't sure where to find another supplier. It had not been long enough to start harvesting that particular herb since the attack some years ago.

He explained in a distant tone about the rarity of the herbs, and how each one might work in combination. He taught Kell how to mix them, what proportion to use.

He studiously avoided touching her. When she wanted to get closer, she needed only to look at his eyes. They were full of fear, and worse: revulsion.

She hopped to the corner of his desk, and sat there, legs dangling. "Tell me what I am," she said. "Why am I this way?"

"... Because I used the wrong spell." He admitted.

"So it cannot be changed, I can't be brought back to life?" Kell asked, yet she was oddly not so disturbed about it, knowing the answer.

"No. Not that I know of. Not that I could perform." Weyland sounded positively miserable. "I am so sorry. I did this, it's my fault you're--"

"I do not blame you, Weyland!" Kell said, "I'm feeling good again. But you say that these herbs will be getting harder to find. Where do we get them, then? What happens to me if I can't drink this stuff?"

Weyland went silent, Kell saw him mulling something over. She waited, until he said, "there are other options, but ... I suppose I must tell you anyway." He looked at her, his dark blue eyes filled with worry and self-loathing. "Revenants ... like yourself, can live on certain things. Usually, it's... It's blood."

"I'm a vampire?" She said, surprised.

"No, no, vampires aren't at all like you." Weyland said. "No, revenants souls' remain in their corporeal shell, it's a strong binding spell. Your personality is present, your soul registers - the other Sight-gifted students know it's you and not some illusion of you."

"They've told me," Kell said.

"Well, the potion I give you can restore your body, keep it flexible and prevent it from decaying. It's ... that's all it can really do, though."

"That's not half bad, I have to tell you," Kell said.

"But there is already a cost." Weyland said. "Your spirit and mind are permanently tied to your body. No matter what condition it gets into."

Kell thought about this, "you mean, if I was to be hacked up, or stop drinking this potion of yours..."

"Your body would degrade, but your soul would remain with it."

"Stuck in the ground, like a skeleton in a box?" Kell asked, a bit worried.

"Yes."

"I don't think I could bear that. I'll keep drinking it, thanks."

Weyland paused, before saying, "Blood would bring more color to your skin. It would probably start your heart beating again."

"I don't have a heart beat?" Kell said, somewhat surprised and she felt her chest - cool fingers against cool ribcage. Not a single thump, and she realized that she only took in a breath to speak. "Oh."

Weyland continued. "You would be warm, you could bleed, I think. But there would be a price to pay - as all things that consume blood seem to pay."

Kell nodded, "I would start to lose my humanity," she said, and he nodded.

"Yes."

"Weyland, why won't you get close to me? Is it that I'm ... I'm cold," she said, looking at her arm. It was slightly grey-blue, but not unattractively so - she thought.

"I've done this to you, and I ..." Weyland could hardly bear to say it. "I'm ashamed of having ruined it. You ought to be alive, Kell, you ought to have drawn breath and lived."

"So I remind you that you failed to save me, even though I'm here telling you I appreciate every minute I'm around you?" She said, and even though that could have sounded harsh she hardly meant it that way.

Weyland remained somewhat silent. He bit his lip, "... yes."

"Then, Weyland, even though you know I love you, you can't get over that?" Kell asked, tilting her head. She still sat on the corner of the desk, a rakish ragdoll. She grinned. "Weyland, I do love you. You don't have to love me back for me to do that."

Weyland furrowed his thin eyebrows. "Kell, I want to."

"I want you to as well. But I can't come back to life, for you. Not the proper way, right?" He nodded, and she continued. "And if I take blood, it'd make me more a monster than a living thing even though it'd bring me up to room temperature?"

He couldn't stop the laugh that she provoked. "I don't know how it would be for you. You're very stable - far more so than I ever expected you to be."

"When I came here I was desperate, crazy and starved. Hurt." Kell said. "But I'm comfortable. I had a decent education, you know. My parents weren't really rich but we had more than most. They had to go blowing it on foul books and trying to raise some godawful demon like the one that killed me."

"Oh - Kell..." Weyland said, starting to say something, but then stopping abruptly.

"What?"

"I - never mind." He stammered.

"No, really. I think it sounds important."

"I think it is something I'm not ready to tell you," Weyland said. "It sounds like something that Empal or Carnos would tell you just to make you hurt."

Kell blinked.

"Your parents, Kell, they almost succeeded in bringing their demon up. They ... found someone else to sacrifice. I heard about it about a year after I'd put you into preservation."

"And... so they killed somone else? They murdered someone?"

"A child that had wandered about the town, I heard. It's all second hand information, Kell, but from what I heard the demon killed them, and was subdued by the local magical authorities. There was nothing anyone could do."

"They wouldn't learn, they didn't stop even when I ran away," Kell said, blandly. "Weyland, don't think little of me, but they deserved it. Murderous fools."

Just about then, when they were both a bit more relaxed and feeling friendlier, one of the students ran in, huffing and puffing. "Do you feel that?" He gasped, looking at Kell.

She stood, and started moving her head around - gazing in all directions at once with her keen Sight and Senses.

"I... I do - what is it? It's coming from that way," she pointed, then upon thinking about it she realized that it came from Bolec Keep's direction. "It's like a humming, a beehive, like the static from wool only far off." She paused, then jolted a little. "It just got a lot closer."

She stood, and Weyland followed his students into the courtyard beyond. Kell narrowed her eyes, and then turned away, walking toward the main hall.

The other students had gathered, outside, some meeting Kell on her way back in. She walked with purpose toward Lord Empal. Once she'd attracted his attention by merely entering the room, she announced, "you ought to know that there's a large force of strong magical nature coming toward us, from Carnos' direction. If you're going to defend your lands, now would be a good time to do it."

Then she strode out.

(( lbf-7 ))

Outside, the swarm of magical creatures got bigger, on the horizon. They didn't seem to be stopping on their way, it was a direct course toward the Castle. Kell stood straight-backed, beside Weyland. Empal arrived, angry.

"This is your fault," he growled but they weren't sure whether he meant Kell or Weyland. Probably both, plus himself in the mix.

When the force had come close enough for some keen eyed individuals to see it, someone yelled, "they ride Hydra!" Which wasn't entirely true. They rode hybrid creatures that Carnos had bred for such things. Something like a large horse in size, but with wide batwings, and long sinuous necks graced by snakelike heads. Some had more than one head, it was true, but they were hardly true Hydra. Besides, everyone knew that true Hydra didn't have wings.

When they had reached the edge of the Castle's protective shell, Kell saw that it dropped for the quintet and their guards. It did not come back up, and Kell wondered if the boy had died, or just been turned off by a command issued by Carnos.

Unexpectedly, however, before anyone could do much of anything in terms of greeting or shooing away the invaders, Empal had grasped hold of Kell's arm, and took a long dagger to her gut. He sliced it through her, pulling out a good chunk of meat with it when he pulled it free. For the moment, Kell was so surprised that she fell to her knees and gripped her stomach.

"Carnos, the girl is dead! Call this off!" Empal bellowed.

Carnos looked at the Lord, the girl on her knees, and the group of highly charged magical students beyond. "Well the place is certainly better defended than the last time I was here," he chuckled.

"She's dead - it was Weyland who took her." Empal said.

"I know that, you dolt, I let him have her back. Can't you see he's foolishly in love with her?" Carnos spat. He dropped to the ground from his winged steed, but came no closer than a dozen yards or more away.

Kell meanwhile had looked at her gut. Under her hands was a thick blackish substance: the goo that Weyland made for her. It really was her lifeblood, wasn't it? She was in a bit of pain, but she stood up anyway.

"I'm dead, yes," she said. "But that's hardly an issue. I've been dead for weeks."

Even Carnos stood in shock at this. He'd seen Empal push the kris into the girl.

Kell turned to Weyland, who had remained standing - he knew that she wouldn't be troubled by this too much. But what she had to say, certainly would.

"Weyland, please forgive me. And make me a promise." She said, in a hush.

"Wh-what?" He said, "why?"

"Promise me that if I become a monster, that you find a way to destroy me properly. I don't want to be killed only to have to watch all of eternity from a pine box."

Weyland's eyes turned sad, horrified.

"I have to," she whispered.

Weyland nodded, and for the first time since turning her to a Revenant, he threw his arms around her and kissed her. He came away with a bit of the black-green goo on his robes, but he hardly cared.

"Now, you'll have to hold on a minute," Kell said to Carnos. "I know you'll be wanting to fight too. That's fine. Wait your turn."

His eyebrow went up, but he indulged her. He had always been a bit amused at this girl - even when she was their curse-catcher.

Then Kell turned to Empal. "You made me into this," she said. "And I've heard that blood is a whole lot better than a potion for keeping me animated and friendly."

She launched herself at Empal, and his surprise prevented him from even putting up his arms in defense. They tumbled to the ground, and Kell tore his neck with her teeth. She didn't have a vampire's or wolf's sharp cutting teeth, but they were enough to draw a considerable spot of skin open. She pressed her face to the wound, and gulped back throatfulls of blood.

It was hot, when it went into her mouth. She swallowed it, it went down into her body with the same speed as the revivication liquid had and with at least as much purpose. It filled her suddenly with power as though she'd never even been alive.

She raised her head from the Lord's neck, and pressed her hand onto his throat to stop the bleeding. "Cauterize," she said, and her fingers grew warm enough to stem the flow completely. Kell stood, not even bothering to wipe the blood from her face and hands.

She could see so much more, all the pinpricks of light scattered around the castle turned to vibrant pieces of information: a farmer's son and three goats, the baker and a pair of children at his shop, a young young child who could probably become a strong mage... And the flavor of blood left her tongue when it was interrupted by the taint of Carnos and his sons nearby.

"Well, that's much better," Kell said. "It certainly is." She turned to see Weyland gazing at her. His expression showed a little fear, some disgust, but more the calm confidence that he had in her. That she had made him promise to destroy her was obviously more important than any silly fears about how she'd really act. He knew.

Kell looked back at Carnos, who had taken out a sword in one hand, and a wand in the other.

"You won't be needing those," Kell announced shortly, "Obitus abominare!" She yelled, pointing directly at him.

Carnos crumbled to dust. His expression hadn't even had time to change. The wand and sword went with him, slightly vaporized like his clothing. The steed behind him sustained a huge hole in its side, gaping through the wing, and it couldn't even let out a scream of pain before it dropped. Fortunately, nothing else was behind Carnos.

His sons stood motionless, then half a moment later they began to mount their own steeds again.

Kell said clearly, "if I see or even breathe a scent of your kin, guards or servants anywhere near these Lands," she told them, "your entire line will be erased - no one will even remember Bolec Keep!"

They didn't stop to listen, but it was certain that they heard. They all but vanished in a cloud of dust, leaving the pile of brine and grit that was their father, along with his steed, behind.

"How is this possible," Empal gasped, still on the ground and still holding his throat with one hand. "You've never even-"

"I've only ever been cursed. It's the one thing I do know how to do very well indeed." Kell said. She stretched her arms out, embracing the sky. She then looked down at her torso, which was still covered with guck. Kell removed her robe, and pulled off her shirt. She had never gained any embarrassment about being nude, even yet.

There was no evidence of the wound that Empal's kris dagger had inflicted on her. Having been injured only once in the weeks before this, and having watched her wound heal in but a day, this was new.

"That was quick," she muttered. "Wow. This does feel good." Kell breathed in, and she did indeed feel a beating within her breast: her heart had awakened.

But it was with Empal's blood. That alone was what turned her away from sucking him dry. She knew that he ought to remain alive, if anything just to be shamed into admitting defeat. And now, his castle and lands were 'safe' again. And perhaps, his son had returned to him properly. Boy would he be pissed!

"Weyland," Kell said, "now I understand what it's like. I can see how it could be addictive." She ran her fingers over her messy hair. "But I'll try and keep to the potion. Unless you - think I should try eating animals or something."

"You do what is necessary," Weyland said, "and... I will keep my promise."

Kell smiled, and she actually felt a blush on her face. She licked her lips. "I love you, Weyland. So we'll need to find more of that Spilla bloom."

Weyland breathed out and let off a relieved sigh. "There is still some time left to look. And you know how to keep yourself under control. I trust you with that," he said.

***

Weeks went by, and Kell was slowly put back into a slightly chilled state. She thought it left her a little stiff. The power that blood gave to her was so strong! It made her feel not just alive, but alive and -- She reminded herself that if Weyland was afraid and ashamed of her in her current state, how must it be for him to think about how she could spiral into a viscious vampiric Revenant if she let herself slip? This was a team effort.

It wasn't too much later, after Empal's son did indeed come staggering out of the dungeon only to spit blood onto his father's face and vanish entirely off the grounds, that another odd sensation pervaded the area. The same boy who had a strong Sight came to Kell and consulted with her.

"Powerful," she said. "Distant, and ... not from here. Their auras are quite distinct."

Weyland stood next to her, on the parapet where they watched the sky. From the south this time, came some small number of shining auras.

"They're on dragons -" the kid said. This time, he was right.

"But friendly dragons," Kell said, to calm him. "Look at them. Their auras are strong, and they have human riders. Hmn, look at that." She grunted to herself, and glanced at Weyland. "One of them feels almost just like you. Strong mage, pretending not to be."

"You always overestimate me," Weyland muttered, but she was right, after all. He was just trying to be humble. After she learned how old he was - almost four hundred - she kept chiding him for not just demanding to own the Castle outright.

Two riders came upon largish dragons. Though both dragons looked quite impressive, one seemed to be a bit put off by the whole event. She - for some reason the pair was certain that it was female - snapped at her companion as they landed.

"Greetings!" Called out one of the riders, the woman. "Hi! Is it okay to land here? Eew," she said of the mess on the ground where the remains of Carnos and his steed. They had been left as a reminder, perhaps someone would think to cover them in something, later on.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Said the male rider, whose dragon remained perched upright on her tall legs. "We are from Cy Dragonstake, and there's been a flight."

Weyland blinked, his face not showing his confusion. Kell took in a breath - sort of - and turned to him for enlightenment. When he couldn't give it to her, she tilted her head at the riders.

"Well, what does that mean to us?" She asked.

"It means that there may be a dragon on our sands that would come to you, to bond!" The woman rider said, cheerfully." The dark dragoness beside her snorted and turned away. "Oh hush Birana, you're just jealous of them because there are none of your eggs on this nest."

Birana's rider, the male, leaned on her long neck and gave off an audible sigh.

"We're going to take you to the sands, you stand there," He muttered something else about looking like idiots just like they did just now, and the woman rider tried reaching over to smack him, didn't succeed, and he went on, "and if there is a dragon that likes you, it'll come to you. The way that Birana and I came together, and these two - all other pairs. We're not just riding beasts."

"Not like those," Kell pointed out the remains of the steed-thing nearby. Birana was sniffing at them, but didn't take a nip of it. "I can tell these dragons are ... very much alive."

"And you aren't," the rider stated flatly. "But I guess that doesn't mean anything in the long run. I've heard some strange stories about bonding pairs in the past. At least you're walking and talking."

Weyland nodded, and tugged at Kell. "We'll need to prepare more of your potion. Who knows how long this will take? And if there are any similar ingredients on their ..." He turned, "where exactly did you say you came from? I've never heard of it."

"Cy Dragonstake," the woman rider said, "we'll be transporting through the Nexus to get there, it's not found on this planet."

"Ah - that explains it," Weyland looked a bit concerned. Again he turned to Kell. "So... I'll get on that." He glanced up at the riders. "We must prepare first," he said, and they dismounted.

"Someone could show us around," the woman said, smiling.

"I'll do that," Kell offered, "you go mix that up."

***

Eventually, everything was prepared. Kell had a certain amount of the potion, but it nearly wiped out their supply of herbs and mixtures. It would be close. But, Kell knew that Weyland had done something to them, perhaps they'd refill themselves or the potion bottles were actually bigger on the inside than the outside. She'd find out later, since she didn't need any right at this moment.

For that moment, they gathered their clothing and bid a temporary farewell to the school inhabitants (and grudgingly admitted that they didn't want to leave the place in Empal's care. He'd survived, been healed, and completely mistrusted the pair now, enough to be afraid of both of them.

So the pairs of lovers, dragonriders and dragons lifted into the air, and teleported to Cy for their amazing Valentine's clutch!

(( lbf-8 ))

Cy was abuzz with talking and dragon speech. Kell had managed to keep her head on her shoulders in the time they were there, and Weyland had located herbs and ingredients for a new potion which he thought was an exceptional replacement for her original one. They kept her warm, where the old one did not. Not quite up to body-temperature, though...

He decided that the vials of her drink that he'd made special, would wait. There would come a time when she'd need that version. Those few vials contained not only the herbal tonic, but an amount of his own blood.

When the word spread that the eggs were going to hatch, everyone made their way to the hot sands. It was a pretty location, and had been dolled up for the holiday spirit, with pink and red and roses and other flowers decorating every hallway.

A beautiful red-colored hatchling started the event, and paired up. The excitement mounted as each egg in turn revealed a beautiful dragonet. Only a couple hatchings in, a fantastic pink and red bellied one turned her eyes toward Kell.

There was a strange feeling that Kell 'heard' in her mind. She knew immediately that this dragonet was hers.

My name, say it. The dragon coaxed her.

"... Ardere Vitus," Kell said, unsure. It sounded like a spell to her. The dragonet sat before her, in all her glory. Then, lowered her head close.

Yes, but that is not all. The dragon sent an image, herself, only in a shade of silvery-black, a nighttime feel.

"You... change color?" Kell asked, awed.

Yes, at night. Then, though, I am not Ardere Vitus, but instead...

"Sanguineus Cor," Kell said, straightening. Certainly, the blood would do different things in day and night?

Weyland looked on, beaming with pride. Kell's dragon was a lovely pink - to his eyes. He knew there was something more to her, though. It just seemed that the dragonet was rather like Kell - she had something to hide.

Another half dozen dragonets came from their shells, and Weyland continued to look to the kitchens where he knew Kell and her dragon were feasting. A large dark red marked dragon hatched, and announced broadly to all that he was not going to take a bond. That sent a shiver through Weyland - his tone was so strong and stern!

The hatching continued on, inexorably ... Weyland and the rest watched in horror as a dragonet that was attached at the side to its egg-partner came out. It almost looked as though G*non was going to kill it, put it out of its misery, but it didn't look as though it was really miserable at all. Perhaps some day, they could be separated.

Perhaps not. Weyland was certain he'd want to hear more about that dragon later, though. For now, long minutes, almost an hour, dragged along. The hatchlings stumbled out of their shells one by one, or two by two, or four at a time. But they chose slowly - some of them choosing not to bond. They seemed a bit put off, those unbonded ones. Perhaps it was that they were expecting someone, and there was no one there. Weyland knew the feeling.

However, as he was going to start moping - there were so few eggs left he wondered why he was still standing there on the sands - a smallish dragon came from his shell abruptly. Spined, with markings like lightning over his skin, the dragonet came out and looked for Weyland.

Weyland, you did the right thing. The hatchling spoke in a warm, comfortable tone. He was strong, if a little small compared to some in the hatching.

Weyland gulped. The dragonet knew that he'd... well. That was interesting. The mage reached out to touch his dragonet (HIS dragon!) and said, "I hope that you are right, Tempestas."

I know I am, my friend. Now, I hunger. Your partner will want to see me, too!

"I'm sure of that!" Weyland happily said, and led the red off to the feast.

***

(( lbf-9 ))

After a number of years learning more about her magic, innate and otherwise, Kell and Weyland had also come to a more formal agreement about 'them'. Weyland's deep love of the girl was tempered by the knowledge of what he had done to her; Kell's adoration of Weyland deepened even with that knowledge.

Their dragons of course helped. They helped in ways that the pair never expected. Protective and sure of themselves, the dragons roosted in the castle itself, atop it really, and kept opponents away with ease. They also attracted their fair share of dragon hunters and curiosity seekers. Donations to the castle kept their quarters repaired, things were good.

.

Weyland heard Tempestas say something, though, that made him perk up. Something on their minds, these dragons were surely going to become mates as Weyland and Kell were now. But they were lonely in another way - they wanted companionship before they committed to a clutch of eggs.

"What to do about that, then?" Kell asked, when Weyland had told her about it. They drifted between rooms while cleaning, the classes for this year were over and the students would not return for another seven weeks. The pair and the folk in the Castle now were busy fixing damage, repairing worn stairs or windows, doing the work which could not be done while the school was busy.

"Well, we could find ... other dragons?" Weyland said. He cast a shadow-servant at a wall and it began scrubbing, Kell did it the old fashioned way on the window where she stood. It was near the location where she'd spent those four years as a statue, and the spot brought mist to her eyes.

"It all kind of started here," she said, and felt Weyland's warm arm over her shoulders. "Thank you yet again, Weyland my love," she sighed. They got back to work, while the dragons on the lawn outside conferred to each other.

What do you think, tell them what we have found?

Yes, I would like to go and learn about how to care for the next generation before actually... making one.

Shortly, when evening was on the way and Sanguineous Cor became the female dragon's dominant 'persona', the pair of dragons greeted their bonds with the news that they had located a place to visit, and perhaps... Bring back with them another of their own kind.

That place was known as Lantessama, and was holding an odd, somewhat cryptic clutch. The records of prior nests held surprises and queer dragons that may very well serve a frightening purpose - but also those records showed hatchlings that could be described anywhere between 'adorable' and 'disgusting'. Anything, in other words, was possible from this place and its seasonal nests.

Nervously the foursome waited for word of whether they would be accepted as a group, individually, or not at all.

***

It was strange, the way that the 'hatchlings' behaved. Some of them were upright, dramatic, draconic and vampiric, while others were more dog-like, in fact they were even the size of dogs! It was to Kell and Weyland that a foursome of such hounds pranced.

Brown Sinc, tan Tward, white Eternae and black Dmation all gathered, not quite slobbery and not really sedate. Kell laughed, "they're precious!"

While Weyland wasn't as impressed. "Is that what they are..."

"Not a dog person are you Weyland?" Kell asked, laughing as the strange summoned beasts set up camp around her. They circled Weyland suspiciously, and the dragons they'd bonded already chuckled to each other.

"Not... especially," Weyland said, turning around to watch the black one, Dmation, who nipped at his fingers.

I think they will do nicely as guards at the castle, Tempestas said.

I believe you're right, Sanguineous/Ardere replied happily.

*** 2022 ***