The Children's Crusades, -For Nemai-

[E'doa A'nii]

Pant, Pant -shrip shrip shrip- shiih hhhaa, shii hhaa,-shrip shrip- pant, pant, pant, gasp, -shrip shrip shrip- shii hhaa, shii haa. -crunch, whish, fwiff, thud-

"umph!"

A young lad of twelve stumbled head first over a log as he ran along in the undergrowth. He was panting hard and sweating profusely. His strait, black, page-boy cut clung to his milky white neck in sweat soaked clumps. His unusually large body and well developed muscles attested to one who was very fit indeed. His build said he was older then he was,but the boy's face gave away his youth. To be breathing so hard he must have come a very long way, very quickly... or, he was frightened.

And indeed fear haunted his startlingly green eyes, and caused him to look over his shoulder as he ran. In his arms he carried the tiniest little girl. She couldn't have been older then four. But she was small enough to appear as an infant still. Beautiful in the disarming way of infants, the girl toddler had soft, dewy hazel eyes, wide as saucers. A tiny rose-colored mouth sat beneath her milk white button nose like a rose in the button hole of someone's suit. Soft black hair, short but thick lay like a messy halo about her head. The infant too was covered in sweat from the damp humidity of the forest. She seemed quite calm and did not even flinch as her guardian tripped over the log, twisting his body to hold her safe from harm.

They were almost to the border. Rowan knew there was some sort of dwelling out here. They could hide till the men passed... if they could make it in time...
As the last fern slapped Rowan in the face, he came bursting out of the woods like a madman, only to stop after he had taken ten more paces and realized where he was.

Before him stood a massive temple. Ominous and forbodeing, it's black marble cast the shadow of death on the land before it.

Shrake's Temple.

So that's where it was. Rowan felt himself grit his teeth in defiance before he even realized he was doing it. Shrake was the god of death and, therefore, despised by all True Children....

Rowan was going to have find somewhere else to hide.

[Nemaisare]

Hunting was something that Theron had never been good at. He'd never had to be, food was given to him every day, supplied by the priests in that great ugly temple, and, if he happened to find one of the nicer priests, he could even ask for more. He'd made that mistake once, asking a priest who didn't like him, and had suffered a terrible bruising on his side from the cane the man had hit him with. Strong for an old bugger, Theron still flinched whenever he saw him. And he hadn't received any food for his troubles either.

Now, however, he had suddenly, on the spur of the moment, decided that he wanted to practice sneaking up on people. He'd been told that he could do it well enough if he tried, so, he wanted to try. And had been sitting beside the stone door way since early morning for a hapless priest or wanderer to walk past so he could scare them silly. Unfortunately, today was not an overly active day. A faint drone of voices was echoing through the hallway into the open, so Theron knew that all the priests would be praying, chanting ancient phrases that confused him terribly and got all muddled in his mouth whenever he tried to repeat them. Nor had any traveler been by. Then again, that wasn't so surprising, given their location. Few came over the border who wanted anything to do with their god, and fewer still were those who actually came looking for Shrake. Still, Theron was an optimistic child, never one to lose sight of hope before it was well and truly vanished without any chance of resurrecting itself.

So he was still waiting, fidgety and eager, when a distant, breathy grunt made him freeze. And if he'd been still before, he was now entirely motionless, startled by the sudden noise into an old habit necessary for survival. Slowly, however, his fear thawed and was taken over by curiousity, and a frown settled on his face as he turned to gaze at the trees two score or so paces beyond the temple's front steps. And he'd never managed to learn why a temple would face a forest rather than a pathway, or an open plain, or the hills and mountains at its back, but then, given that there was an entrance on every sordid, somber side of the building (death refused no comers, and could always be reached) that didn't seem like an overly important puzzle to solve. Shrake had told him he didn't have to worry about it, so he didn't, at least, not usually.

Still, the poor boy who stumbled clear of the trees could not have chosen a better place to do so. The sight of him was immediately welcomed, even if him and his sister, or so Theron supposed she was, weren't actually aware of that welcome just yet. He remained crouching where he was, eyeing the two over and wondering where they were off to in such a hurry. True, children generally didn't need much of a reason to run, but he didn't think this fellow was running for the joy of it, not looking so fearful like that, nor carrying a girl so young as that one was. It was a puzzle sure enough, but one Theron welcomed eagerly. Waiting had begun to wear on him, and now, there was no need to wait any longer. So, well hidden, though not entirely invisible, in the shadowy niche by the foot of the stairs, the boy sat himself down cross-legged and set his chin in his palm as he'd seen more than a few adults do when they said they needed to think. Not that it helped him any. He still had no idea why the boy might be running, so, to find the answer, it was obvious he would have to ask him himself.

Which is exactly what he proceeded to do. Bouncing up from his uncomfortable, and unhelpful, position, he scrambled out from his hiding place and waved eagerly to catch the boy's attention. "Hullo! Y'ain't lost, are ya?"

Well, it was one reason for him being here, wasn't it? Theron's cheerful greeting was as exuberant as his motions. Friendly and full of curiousity. There was little about him to explain his presence here, nothing but a child's welcoming openness and a certain, unmistakable mischievous spark lurking in his green eyes as he inspected the two. The boy was older than he was, probably stronger, taller, smarter and a better fighter too. He'd have been useful, if he wasn't so old. The girl, on the other hand, she didn't look like much. Then again, unlike Theron, she would probably grow out of that, particularly if he brought her to the priests. All the younger children were, but the god kept telling him they hadn't grown enough yet, hadn't learned enough... So he had time to bring more children here, as the god asked.

Theron himself didn't appear to be anything special. He was wearing a cast off tunic from some far larger person, and its ragged, torn hem reached beyond his knees, sometimes threatening to trip him up. Its original colour was long forgotten. He hadn't any shoes, or sandals, or even strips of cloth tied about his feet and his dirty hair, spikey and unkempt as it was, only added to his ratty appearance. His grin, however, was sharp, and his manner that of a confident host. They fit strangely together, his attitude and attire, but that didn't bother him, seeing how he wasn't aware of it. Now, all he had to do was wait for an answer. If one was forthcoming, that is...

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan whipped about to face Theron, the wind whistling through the Child's teeth as his lungs sucked in every ounce of air they could. Instinctively, Rowan assumed a protective stance, hunching himself about his baby sister so that his body had a better chance of absorbing any blows that happened to be on their way.

In a moment, his startling green eyes had met Theron's similar ones and ascertained that the youth was not unfriendly. The boy was young looking, not more then nine or ten, so he couldn't have known. But Rowan did wish Theron hadn't been so...loud... with his greeting.

Rowan set Olivia down and took her hand. The baby girl simply stood and stared wide eyed at Theron. Her gaze was unnervingly perceptive for one so young. It seemed to penetrate something in the people she looked at; so see something that most could not see. Perhaps she did see something there. But whatever it was, went unmentioned.The daughter heir of the Lord High Counselor seemed devoid of any feeling or curiosity. Her large, soft hazel eyes did not gaze around the world about her, nor did they blink very often. Her face was devoid of expression. Had it not been that she breathed, she might have been taken for a very life-like doll.

Her brother seemed used to this, because he didn't even notice. He waited for the boy to approach before he responded... each second wore on his nerves like fingers worry cloth. They were getting closer.

"We're not lost. We're running, and you need to go before you get killed. If it's all the same to you we're going to do the same now, so if you'll excuse us we'll just be moving on. Thanks for asking though." Rowan's words were not unkind, but they were firm and full of urgency.

The chink of horse gear, and animal snuffeling could be heard very close in the woods as the young son of the Lord High Counselor finished speaking. Rowan held his breath, motioning for Theron to be silent. The youth channeled what little light he had left. He would make an illusion. Throw them off the trail. Olivia's expression did not change. Nothing about her changed, except for whatever of her outfit or hair the wind disturbed.

As the horses hooves pounded off in the opposite direction, Rowan breathed a soft sigh of relief and sank down in the grass. Boy was he tired. It would be so very nice just to sit for a few minutes... But alas, those guards would realise their mistake sooner or later, and Rowan hoped to be long gone before they did.

The large youth thought about taking Theron with him. The kid looked like he needed a place to stay himself. Assuming that he didn't live at the temple, Rowan might be able to find a kindhearted villager who would be willing to adopt a boy. Unfortunately, he could not say the same about himself. No one wanted to adopt someone with a death sentance hanging over their head (no matter how unjust). That would be about as bright as sheltering a fugitive from justice.

For him it was a game of survival. And for Olivia....Rowan didn't know what it was for Olivia. That first week he'd had her, she hadn't stopped crying. She'd cried all night and day. She would not eat and barely drank anything. Not she ate and drank as well as any child... but Rowan wasn't so sure she was happy.

Olivia never laughed. Never giggled. She'd never smiled. Not even once. And Rowan had to wonder if she was normal. One unusually kind village woman had mentioned that the baby might miss her mother; had said Olivia would be over it in a month or two. Well, four yars later and the girl hadn't changed. Maybe it wasn't about her mother. Rowan didn't know.

The lord prince felt that babies should come with a manual and a starter kit. Especially if they belong to little boys. At anyrate he should get up and get going now... Just as soon as he made up his mind about Theron.

[Nemaisare]

Oops... He hadn't meant to frighten the fellow and froze again at the sudden action on the stranger's part. His green eyes wide as he fought the unmistakable, and probably foolish, urge to glance behind him and see what had so startled the other boy. But Theron already knew he was the one who'd frightened him, which was funny really, since he'd been waiting to do just that but had given up on ever getting the chance as soon as he'd thought to approach this stranger. Silly, but it brought his grin back and sent him forward again, no longer worried by his display of fear. As he came closer, he watched the girl avidly, fascinated by her seeming indifference to the world around her, and that strange stare. It stirred something in his mind and made him shiver, so that he knew Shrake wanted this one, but before he could argue or agree, the boy was talking, answering his question with such a solemn regard, and so many polite words that it made Theron giggle.

Of course, he had seen that they were running from the very first, that was what going faster than a walk was called, wasn't it? Running. But he supposed this boy meant the other sort of running and, from what he continued with, he had a good reason to be running. Huh, not just for the fun of it after all. Now, the words, and their meaning, weren't lost on him, and he recognized that there was probably some danger to standing around getting answers to all the questions that suddenly sprouted in his mind, but it didn't worry him unduly. The god hadn't let him die yet, and, as far as he could tell, kept very good care of him. Better than anyone else bothered to do anyhow.

So he shrugged, then glanced curiously around the other boy when he heard the horses. This was more visitors than they'd had all last month in one day! It was exciting, is what it was, not scary in the least! And wouldn't the children be thrilled to help out this boy and his sister. Theron hadn't even noticed the boy gesturing at him to be quiet, didn't even notice his face tightening in concentration or slackening with relief as the horses moved past. So it was only luck that held him silently enraptured and caught by the sounds until they were well past and out of his hearing. Afterward, Theron turned back to the other boy, frowning to see that he'd shrunk, then grinning again when he realised the boy was only sitting down. He wondered, briefly, if there was anyone who could shrink themselves when they wanted to, but there was no way of finding that out, so he'd settle for some other answers.

He stepped closer to the little girl, peering down at her with a studious manner he'd learned from the old priest who was constantly trying to teach him and the others how to read and write and who never seemed to have any success. Brow furrowed, eyes lidded and a slight, thoughtful frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. She was scrawny, scrawny and strange and absolutely curious. What did his lord want with this one? He crouched down to look more closely into her face, maybe he'd missed something.

"She's so small though, ain't she?" The question was, for all its ambiguity, not directed towards Rowan, but had, rather, been spoken to the air as though there were other ears listening. Which was, indeed, the case as Theron cocked his head at the answer and spoke again. "I know, 'course she'll grow, they all do, dun they.... Nah, we gots plenny girls already.... But whaddaya want 'er for?--Oh..."

At the end of that not quite as one-sided a conversation as it seemed, Theron's bright eyes flicked to the side, moving away from the girl's face and glancing over at the boy again. His eyes had widened significantly, and his gaze, for just a moment, wasn't quite so friendly as he considered the facts he'd just been given. So Shrake wanted them both, the girl as a curiousity and because he came with her. Well, that settled his confusion easily enough, now all he had to do was convince them to stay. Which might, or might not, prove just as easily done. Sometimes the children didn't want to stay, or got scared, but usually the promise of food and shelter and others their age was all it took. That, and a special visit to a certain room in the temple's labyrinth of corridors.

"She yore sister? Why i'n't she talkin'?" But he could earn himself some more answers while he led the boy inside. He shot upright again, bouncing back and hopping for a moment on one foot. "C'mon! Ifen them horse folks're like ta kill ya, we dun want ta wait about an' make it all easier fer 'em! Yew kin stay 'ere with us!"

Then, with a wave and a grin, the boy jogged towards the closest entrance, calling more questions over his shoulder as he went. "Who are they, any'ow? An' whadda they want with you two? They ain't family, is they? Cuz ifen yew dun want them ta keep lookin' fer ya, we kin scare 'em off fer ya too."

[E'doa A'nii]

Theron unsurprisingly set about scrutinizing little Olivia. Olivia did not even blink at his closeness or the scrutiny of his gaze. Here eyes seemed to look right through him to something behind him. If she even registered his existence, it was minimal. Rowan nodded at his question. His sister was unuasly small and thin for her age. He was about to comment further, but he realized Theron was talking to himself.

Theron certainly was full of energy because after a moment of silence --during which his gaze changed in a manner which disturbed Rowan--he shot up again and began bouncing quite gaily from one foot to the other, and then finally settled for hoping on foot for a couple seconds.

"She just doesn't talk." Rowan shrugged. He wasn't sure why not. He had attempted to heal her, but nothing wrong had shown itself. She seemed to be missing something in her throat. But he wasn't sure if that was the cause. At anyrate he suspected she was mute. Whatever she was, shy or mute, he had trained her to speak sign language; which she spoke extremely well.

Rowan scooped her up in his arms again, preparing to walk off. He wasn't about to answer those other questions. The fact that he wasbeing hunted by Sir Gyle was, for the time being, a pretty big secret. As was Rowan's heritage, among other things.

But his promise about scaring off Sir Gyle was intriguing. So, while Rowan was loathe to actually go into the building, he did follow Theron up to the gate; his long strides catching him up to the boy in no time.

"Can you teach me to fight?"

[Nemaisare]

Well, if she didn't talk, then she didn't talk. Theron wasn't going to force her if she didn't want to. And, well, he couldn't if she wasn't able to. It was a mystery that the boy didn't seem interested in explaining. Which made Theron frown at him in a bother for a moment or two as he paused at the first step. He always hesitated before going inside, not because he was scared, but because... Well, fine, so the temple did frighten him a little. It was full of angry men with hard sticks, shadows and long hallways that could trap a person if they didn't know where they were going. He'd gotten lost more times than he could count(which wasn't saying much) before someone had thought to let him in on that secret. So now, he always made sure he knew where he wanted to go before he started out. And the ceiling was so high and far away, or the whole place was just so dark that it was hard to see. He'd gotten over his fear of the dark some time ago, but that didn't mean he was comfortable wandering through it. Still, the god didn't like him being scared of nothing...

So, with a deep breath and one last glance about the area, just to make sure the boy was coming and that those horsemen hadn't reversed direction yet, Theron burst out laughing. That was a funny thing for someone, anyone, to ask of him. His was a high-pitched glee that innocently scattered any impressions of him being a sweet little boy. But, strangely enough, it was soft and not at all mocking, though it stretched his smile to both ears and lit his green eyes with laughter. He knew the boy was being serious, and could have guessed that laughing at him probably wouldn't make the boy like him any more than he did already, but he couldn't help it, and that he'd not been joking when he'd asked made it all the funnier. Theron was not the person one went to when they wanted to learn how to fight.

"Y-y-you... You..." As he tried to stop himself and managed only a shaky splutter, Theron started laughing all over again, shaking his head and grinning madly. Finally, however, he got a hold of himself and had to bite his lip to keep it that way. So his excuse was late in coming as he turned and started up the steps. But the cold air that swept over him stole his gaiety away, much in the same way a stern or reproachful glare might have done. "Ya dun look like yew need any learnin' 'bout how ta fight. But Shrake's got us a teacher, ifen ya come wit me, I'll take yew to 'er."

Now, Theron wasn't lying precisely, although he didn't care about any such details that might, or might not, absolve him of guilt he didn't feel, but he wasn't going to bring this boy to the Weaponsmaster until after he'd ascertained that he would be staying. And then, well, then he could do as he liked with his time, and wanting to use it to learn how to fight was good, as far as Theron was concerned.

"Yew comin' or not? I gottsta git t'others afore them horsefolk come back." Impatience tinged his tone as he set his hands on his hips. The boy was trying to look commanding, or imperious, or just more impressive than his slight build would allow. Not that it worked, he was still nothin more than a young boy staring down a handful of steps at an older, bigger boy, who was even better dressed than he was. The building at his back, however, lent a certain weight to his words, the dark stone heavy even upon the eyes.

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan waited with a look of slight irritation and puzzlement on his face. He wasn't sure why the boy was laughing at him. Was it because Rowan didn't know how to fight? Or was it something else?

But when the boy had contained himself, and explained that Rowan looked quite able to fight already, Rowan had to chuckle a little too. Yes, he was pretty burly. But not from fighting. Hard, manual work, and lots of it had made him that way.

"Couldn't she just come outside?" Rowan asked hopefully. He really didn't want to go in. The building was so very dark and ominous. And Shrake was evil. And besides, he could learn just as easily outside as inside. All he needed were the basics really. He just wanted to be able to defend himself and his sister, that was all.

Obviously, Theron was quite intent on getting them inside --though he was far from imposing; even down right comical in his attempt-- Why, Rowan didn't know. Years of being hunted had made him inherently suspicious, and it did not take much to arouse distrust. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I guess I'll be going now. Thanks anyway."

And Rowan turned to leave the building and find somewhere to spend the night. Perhaps he would find another opportunity to learn the art of combat elsewhere.

[Nemaisare]

"Outside?" The boy's frown grew deeper, he'd gone and gotten confused again. "Why'd she wanna come outside? Yore th'one as wants ta see 'er." Well, that was the truth, because, as far as he knew, the Weaponsmaster didn't even know someone was asking for her. And he wasn't about to relent just because the boy didn't want to go inside. That was just silly. Inside was the only good place to hide from the horsemen who were looking for him, and if they were truly as dangerous as he'd said, then it was just plain foolish to be wandering about in the open.

But his stubborn glare melted quickly into a panic as Rowan turned to go. True, it was all the same to him, whether they stayed or left, or, it would have been had not a certain god been screaming pain and threatening worse in his mind should he let these two leave without even trying.

"W-wait!" Theron staggered back down the steps, squeezing his eyes shut against Shrake's ranting until he almost tripped and realised he had to watch where he was going if he didn't want to fall flat on his face. "Yew said they'd kill ya ifen they found yew!" Well, alright, so that wasn't exactly what he'd said, but it was close enough that Rowan probably wouldn't call him on it. "I jest thought mebbe, ya know, it'd be safer inside an' all. But ifen ya dun wanna go inside, I kin get 'er. I will! Only, yeh'll hafta wait fer me, then. An' I won't go lessen' yew promise!"

Not that he really trusted promises, folks who made them were just as unreliable as the folks who didn't. But that wasn't the point. Theron had taken the measure of this boy from his speech and manners, so he was fairly certain that if he did give his word, he wouldn't leave unless he thought it absolutely necessary. And Theron was fine with letting it go at that. He didn't need the two to come inside right away, he just couldn't let them leave. He paused in his desperate tirade, and glanced about almost wildly, hissing through his clenched teeth at the pain building in his head, then he staggered when it fell away so suddenly he couldn't help but think he'd imagined it. The small boy shook his head and blinked at Rowan, pleading.

"Yew jest stay right there, in th'shadows, an' they won't see ya." He pointed towards the place where he'd been waiting earlier, then continued before the other boy had any time to protest. "I'll send someone out ta wait with ya, jest in case them folks come back afore I kin find 'er. Or I kin come with ya, ifen yeh like. Bring m'friends an' make sure yew get safe ta where yer goin'?"

The flow of words was random in his mind as he grasped at straws and possibilities and anything that might give him a little more time to convince this boy that it was perfectly alright to come into the temple. Shrake said he was powerful, or would come to be. And Shrake liked that in a child. What the god didn't like, however, were the now bumbling efforts of its 'protege'. Particularly not that last offer, which would only place both Rowan and Olivia farther from its reach. Theron whimpered at the rage that thundered in his skull, swaying where he stood and silently begging the boy to turn around, to come back, to say he'd stay. Please...

[E'doa A'nii]

Maybe it had a been a stupid question. But Sir Eustace had taught him classes outside. Rowan had practically grown up in the great outdoors. Even his father, Artur, had taught him things outside. Couldn't the weapons master do the same?

Something in Theron's plea to wait caught Rowan's attention; made him halt his steps. That was quite the urgent cry there. And when he turned around, the little boy was tripping down the stairs in his haste to get to him. Theron's voice seemed a little panicked. His tongue seemed to trip over itself as he said something that sounded like 'You said they'd kill you if they found you.' He couldn't be that concerned could he?

What a sweet child. Such a pity he was in Shrake's clutches. Rowan had half a mind to take him along then and there; but if he belonged to the temple... Rowan couldn't fight off a temple full of monks.

Well, he would get the master fighter out. But he wanted a promise Rowan would stay. Why? Rowan frowned. If he had asked for the weapons master to come out and teach him, surely that would be good enough wouldn't it? After all, it did indicate some small desire to stay. So why promise? If Rowan promised, he would not have the option of running if Gyle's men came back. That would be bad indeed.

The boy offered to hide Rowan and his sister. He offered to have someone sent out to keep them company. He even offered to come with them and help them run.
Rowan's frown deepened. The boy was practically begging him to stay. Why? Come to think of it, Theron looked pretty ill. Frightened, and swaying.

Rowan didn't have much to think about that question or Theron's current state of mind because at that moment horses were comming out of the woods. Rowan's mind made a quick decision. It was Gyle's men andinstant death, or the Temple of Doom and a chance to escape at some point.

Rowan took Shrake's temple.

Whirling on his heel, he scooped up Theron (just incase the boy decided to faint) in his free arm and was well inside the temple before he even realized how far in he had gotten. Well, it was too late now. The monks would have to explain themselves to Gyle's men. Rowan hoped too many people wouldn't have to pay for his latest choice.

[Nemaisare]

Well, he'd made him stop, and turn around. That was something, wasn't it? At least he wasn't still walking away, in fact, he looked as though he was thinking. Thinking about staying? About taking Theron up on one of his offers? About punching him in the face for being bothersome? Theron had no idea what the older boy might have been considering as they stood there staring at each other. He was, however, praying really hard that it might end up getting them all inside the temple before Shrake made his head explode. Luckily, although it took Rowan a little longer to decide, the god heard him, since Theron had, obviously, been praying to him. And eased its grip, there wasn't any actual apology from the invisible entity, nor did Theron expect one, but at least his head didn't hurt so much when he was picked up and carried, rather uncomfortably, up the temple steps.

The boy caught an uncertain glimpse of huge beasts, heavy footed and fast, with riders guiding their charge directly towards them as they emerged from the trees. At first, he was greatly confused, his bouncing head unable to let his eyes focus on what they were looking at, then he realise what he was seeing. Those horsemen had come back, that was the only explanation. In the moments that came before darkness settled around them and the riders were lost to his sight, Theron managed to note that there were at least as many as he had fingers. Maybe more. And he was glad they were running away. Or rather, he was relieved that the boy had decided to take him with him when he ran.

Still, he didn't exactly appreciate being carted about as though he hadn't any legs of his own.

So, it was hardly surprising that, as soon as he felt their pace begin to slow, Theron wriggled and slipped out of reach, tucking and rolling ungracefully into a heap of limbs as he thudded first into the floor and then into a wall. Just saying 'ow' was an understatement, but it was something he really, really, needed to say. And, given that the wind had been knocked out of him, it was all he could manage just then. Peering out from under a bent leg and the hanging folds of his ragged tunic, Theron could only glare as he gasped for breathe. But, well, the boy was inside. Shrake couldn't deny that.

Slowly, he let himself fall into some semblance of the proper way to be lying on the floor, legs straightening and collapsing outward while he pushed his torso up against the wall until he was sitting. It wasn't the most comfortable place to be, but he was trying to figure out if the bruising on his elbows, back and side was really as painful as it felt. And that meant staying as low to the ground as he could be until the ache settled. Slipping free of a running person's grasp wasn't the smartest thing Theron had ever done. But he now knew that he probably wasn't going to try it again anytime soon.

They weren't too far from the entrance, that he could tell, but that didn't mean much since they'd turned a corner. Shrake's temple wasn't so straightforward as one might think it would be. The god had a sense of humour that no one really enjoyed. Although, Theron had to admit, now that he knew how to navigate the hallways, it could be funny when he had to go find another child who'd forgotten where he, or she, was going. The walls moved, and no one could map the corridors or the placement of the rooms. Things changed on a day to day basis and Theron had grown used to it. Or, at least, as accustomed to the changes as anyone ever could be.

Unlike the outside walls, those surrounding them weren't quite as black as one might expect. True, the stone was dark, but colours shimmered across its surface. Faint, shadow colours. Blues and greens and purples, mostly, although Theron had once discovered yellow after a long day of searching for it. There weren't obvious, but they flickered at the edge of your vision, vanishing if you turned your head to look directly at them. And, although there was no visible lighting, no torches, no candles, no glowing balls of magic, shadows still abounded. And they could see each other. It was a strange magic, and always made Theron feel as though he didn't really need any light to see. Of course, that never worked when he tried it at night outside the temple.

"Yew run real fast, didya know that?" There was absolutely no awe in Theron's voice as he spoke those words, only accusation. Although why he believed it was fair to accuse a boy of running fast when it was hardly something he ought to be ashamed of couldn't be said. He didn't really expect an answer either, so he merely groaned and pushed himself to his feet awkwardly. He was, in fact, just opening his mouth to tell the boy to follow him when a chuckle beat him to making more noise. Theron yelped and, shamefully, ran to hide behind Rowan. He'd recognize that crackling laugh anywhere, and really didn't like it. And now he had to tell the priest with the stick about the horsemen! The man would probably only hit him again. He'd liked hitting him. And Theron, quite reasonably, did not like getting hit. But then, those horsemen had looked awful dangerous, and the priest, well, all he had as a stick. Against Theron, it was a useful weapon, against armed men... The boy grinned suddenly, and piped up from behind the comforting barrier Rowan formed.

"We ain't 'ere ta bother nobody, Enric. Honest! Only, there's horsefolk outside, an' they're all angered 'bout somethin'. Ya gottsta go keep 'em from comin' inside an' I'll get t'others." Well, it was worth the effort, even if the old man continued glaring right through the older boy's chest. Theron was certain he could feel those sharp eyes even through the skin and bone and muscle between them. So he wasn't brave enough to peek out and see if his words had had the desired effect. The old priest had, however, decided to take Theron at his word and had turned around to go see for himself. Of course, that the children knew the entrance to be the other way was of no importance since they were, invariably, wrong.

Finally, after what felt like an age of waiting and worrying, he worked up the courage to ask, in a very hoarse whisper. "Is 'e gone?"

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan was surprised when Theron wiggled out of his grasp. He had been meaning to put him down in just a couple more paces; but then, Theron hadn't asked to be picked up either.

Rowan walked over, as soon as Theron was sitting up, and bent down to inspect him. Well, more like to heal him from any bruises he may have acquired. Rowan did feel partly responsible for the injury he had just unwittingly caused by the boy's wriggling free of his grasp.

"Sorry." He muttered giving a wry a grin. Running fast was an act of survival. He'd gotten very good at it, by sheer necessity. But Rowan did not get a chance to heal Theron because Theron stood up and yelped. Thinking the disturbance one of the horsemen invading the temple, Rowan wipped about, something flickering in his hand temporarily; temporarily because he realized it was one of the resident monks.

A very unfriendly sort of monk who seemed bent on doing harm; probably to Theron, as Theron had yelped and was hinding behind Rowan's massive bulk at that moment. Enric just nodded at Theron's announcement of Gyle's men and walked off in the wrong direction.

Probably going off to get more help. He would need it. Gyle's men were...decent fighters to say the least. If they didn't win, they sure tried hard. Rowan should know. He'd dealt with them a lot more then he would have liked.

But as Enric left, Rowan had a moment to look at the area about him. Colors flickered at the edge of his vision. They eluded a direct glance however, and played in the strange shadows that lurked about the building. The Temple was dark. Dark as night, infact; but the lighting was odd because Rowan could see just as well as if he had been out in broad daylight.

A place for illusions and mind tricks was this.

Rowan did not feel safe here. Not at all. The longer he stayed the longer he had the itch to leave. And the more he itched to leave, the more he thought about peeking his head out and seeing if Gyle's men had gone.

Theron broke into his thoughts with 'is he gone?'

"Yup. Vanished like a wraith. Probably went to get help."

He didn't blame Theron a bit for being frightened in a place like this.

[Nemaisare]

A sigh of relief threatened to make his legs collapse, but Theron was made of slightly sterner stuff than one might think, given his easily frightened countenance. So he merely gulped and edged back from his protection cautiously, just in case Enric felt like coming up behind them. Or another priest showed up. Granted, he didn't need to be wary of everyone who lived here, but it paid to keep his guard up, just in case. As always, Theron was being optimistic about the chances of them running into someone, only, it was a rather dismal optimism since that would mean needing to worry about getting into trouble. Oh, wandering about the temple wasn't something he was forbidden to do, but the priests, most of them anyway, didn't like him nosing around and getting underfoot.

"Well, thank th'gods fer that. Only, we're th'ones as are s'posed ta be gettin' help." And thank the gods for sunny dispositions and the recovery power of nine-year-old boys. While still wary, Theron was quite willing to put that momentary fright behind him, after all, he couldn't leave it too long, otherwise the horsey people might manage to get inside the temple. Of course, Shrake was quite reassuring with all its talk of adult superstition and suspicions, adult fears of gods and curses and blood debts and so on, so Theron wasn't too worried. Still, it would be better to get rid of them before they decided to be rid of the temple, or set up camp outside. That would get annoying.

There was also the small fact that his little plan wouldn't work if Enric went to get help. Well, it was up to fate now, to decide what it wanted, Theron had a job to do.

"Well, ne'er mind about that then. Jest yew keep close, we gottsta get th'children." The boy flashed his tall fellow a grin full of sweet glee and took off, incidentally moving in the same direction Enric had taken. Except that their paths quickly went their separate ways as they moved deeper into the temple, Theron shouted out as he went, calling those names he could remember and occasionally pausing to think about those he couldn't. He made sure to keep his destination firmly in mind. He wanted to find the other children who lived here, and they would be gathered in the bedrooms about now, trying to alleviate their boredom because they'd been given a free hour to do what they wanted and wouldn't be able to think of what they wanted to do. He also made sure to check on Rowan's progress, just to be certain they didn't lose each other.

Of course, what with Rowan being bigger and faster in general, the older boy probably wouldn't find it that difficult to keep up, but Theron liked to think he was a fast runner himself. And he was, just not while he was thinking so hard and needed to slow down so he wouldn't run into the walls when corners suddenly appeared.

Finally, they came to a stretch that he recognized. A corridor that was lit with the more comforting glow of torches. An effort on Shrake's part to make his temple more welcoming. The god tried, Theron had to give it that. "Arya! Gavin! Get yore groups tagether! We gots company as isn't wanted. C'mon! Arya!" Theron's shouts were greeted with an ominous silence, but it didn't worry him unduly, they'd gone through this before, they had. A girl peered around one of the doorways, flashed a curious glance over the new children Theron had with him, then disappeared back into the room with a growl. The disappearance was followed by a sharp yip and Theron laughed. Someone'd been too slow dodging Arya's swinging fist, probably too slow getting into line too. But the silence didn't last long.

The corridor was soon full of yelling, screaming children all eager and armed with long knives or short spears. They were all of them older than Theron, most nearer in age with Rowan, wild and ragged and grinning, a dangerous light glinting in each and every eye. These children took protecting their god seriously, not to mention that Theron had found something for them to do. He'd called for those who had been here longest, and there fifty or so of them, although Theron couldn't count that high.

[E'doa A'nii]

Rowan did not fully understand the sigh of relief. Enric was an unpleasant enough man to look at at; what with his sour frown and permanently pinched brows which knit his weathered face together in a very sour expression indeed. BUt why he would want to hurt Theron... Rowan had no idea. Still, this was Shrakes temple and Rowan wouldn't have been surprised if he had learned that adults went about harming little children for the mere 'fun' of it.

Rowan kept up quite well. Mostly because he didn't want to be left behind in such a strange and foreboding place; being older and faster didn't hurt though. He was a little surprised at the mention of more children. How many more were there? Rowan should have expected to find children abounding in Shrake's temple. It would be like him to prey on the hearts and minds of the young and innocent. But for some reason, Rowan was surprised. Perhaps he assumed Theron was the only one.

Soon Theron was calling for his companions, and Rowan wondered what calling more children had to do with getting help. Shouldn't they be calling the monks? Come to think of it, Rowan hadn't seen many monks about. But then... maybe they had taken the back route. Perhaps Theron meant to-- no...He had said something about unwanted company.

Rowan blinked for a moment as the girl wipped her head back inside. It couldn't be. That was an unthinkable thought. Surely-- Rowan gasped. Wide-eyed and stupified he couldn't help but stare at the small army of children which stood before him. "Y-you don't mean--...! I mean, you wouldn't--...!" His brain sputtered through his lips in an attempt to process the situation before him. He licked his lips in nervous dread of reality.

"What I mean is, " Rowan shook his head as if to clear it of the fog of stupefaction which had settled upon it, "You're not actually considering making these children fight are you?!" They wouldn't stand a chance! Not against Gyle's men on horseback. Sheer numbers might be able to slaughter a footsoldier or two... But a group of about fifty kids armed with nothing but knives and crude spears would not affect more then the horses on which the thugs rode.

They would be slaughtered mercilessly; without so much as a fraction of hesitation and about as much remorse as one gives to hurling a stone into the depths of the sea. ...No. No! They could not go out there! They must not go out there...!!

There had to be a better way.

Rowan cudgled his brain feverishly in an attempt to prevent the children from attempting a feat which amounted to suicide. After a moment of carefully controled calmness and thought he decided: "Don't send them out there. I have a better idea."

Olivia simply stared at the mass of misguided children with the same amount of interest she took in everything else. The reflection of the torchlight in her eyes only made the gaze that much more disturbing.

[Nemaisare]

"Dun mean? Wouldn't what?" The boy's reaction was decidedly curious, particularly since Theron had assumed, since he was going along with the whole thing, that the boy knew what he'd meant when he'd spoken about getting help. So now, he was frowning in confusion as Rowan stuttered out his disagreement with he whole thing. Then he turned to scowl and the shouting mob, a glare that made them quiet enough so he could hear his thoughts, though the walls still echoed.

"I ain't makin' 'em do anythin'. They's all 'ere acuz they want ta be." A lie, but one he was unaware. It was true for the most part, since Shrake couldn't physically stop any of the children from leaving, well, except Theron, and they had come inside, everyone of them, of their own free will. But then they'd all been touched by the god and their will had been changed to suit the god's wishes a little more closely. This didn't mean they couldn't think for themselves, but most of them were grateful for the shelter, the food and the company of others. They liked learning how to protect themselves. They all liked Theron, and it was him they followed, while he followed his god. So they had a choice, it was just difficult to find.

While he waited for the older boy to explain his sudden bout of uncertainty, Theron scratched at the diagonal scar on the side of his head, running from his right temple across the top of his ear and ending near the nape of his neck. The ridge line was mostly hidden by his hair, but it had become his habit to worry the scar when he was troubled by something. He shared non of the misgivings that Rowan had. He'd seen his friends fight, after all. Most of them strong and experienced, more than one with the hardened veneer of having lived on the streets or in the poorer quarters. Needless to say, few, if any, were from E'doa A'nii.

True, he wasn't sure how many of them might be needed to overwhelm the guards he'd seen, maybe that was what was troubling the boy. But just as he opened his mouth to ask, Rowan spoke again. Demanding that he not take the children outside. And the girl, Arya, came forward, long knife comfortably sheathed at her side, spear in hand. Her hair was cut erratically, as short as her own hands and knife could make it. Theron had watched her cut it himself. Her eyes were blue, very pretty, but hard. She'd been one of the first he'd brought here, stolen from the gaol the night before her hands were to be removed for stealing, and she'd grown up under his haphazard care. But now, their roles were beginning to reverse, as she grew older and he stayed the same. So she'd seen the problem and had decided to deal with it for her 'brother'.

"Huh, we ain't children no more, big boy. Theron's brought us'ns 'ere ta grow wi'out them troubles as we lived with afore. An' we dun want no company as ain't welcome. Yeh'll learn." Placing her fists at her hips and eyeing him coldly, Arya spoke for most of those children here, and she didn't bother raising her voice. As soon as she'd started towards them, the others had quieted dramatically to hear what she had to say. She shot a grin at the little Olivia, reaching out a hand to ruffle her hair, woman and girl all at once, though she was most certainly not a woman in appearance. "Ye kin watch ifen yeh like, though this un might be better off stayin' 'ere." Abruptly, she decided there was nothing more to say to him and turned to Theron.

"What're we scarin' off this time? Bandits? Is that cat back? I was sure he'd be leavin' fer good last we saw 'im." Her tone let Theron know that he wasn't even to bother considering the new boy's idea, but, while he was perfectly willing to listen to her advice, and she usually had good advice, he was curious. So he shrugged again. "Nah, guards're chasin' this boy, an' I thought we oughta let 'em know they ain't ta come back. Any'ow, what was yew thinkin' a doin' bout them bein' there?"

The way he asked the question, there was clearly a bit of skepticism in Theron's mind as to the credibility of a better idea than letting his children loose on the guards. Granted, there was the possibility that a few of them would die. But dieing wasn't a terrible thing. Theron had grown used to it, and everyone else only had to die once. They ought to be glad of it.

[E'doa A'nii]

Even if Theron wasn't going to make them fight, he hadn't exactly tried to stop them. Rowan blinked as Arya stepped forward. He hadn't expected dissent from directly within the ranks. --After all, Theron was the leader...right? He seemed to be. Especially since he had been the one to summon them. Weren't they supposed to wait for further orders or something? Rowan didn't really know much about armies, and manybe child armies had exceptions to the standard rules.-- She was beautiful, in a cold hard sort of way. Much as a rock or a precious stone is beautiful. 'Arya' he thought her name was.

She was spunky too -which figured- though she did not seem unkind. Then again, maybe Arya was the leader. The children had fallen into complete silence at a mere motion from her. Rowan simply watched her and listened as she spoke. It made sense that they were rescued orphans or hard-luck children. He knew from experience that being on hard terms left one vulnerable to many a suggestion and deceptively kind hand.

At first, Olivia did not seem to register the rumpling of her helter skelter hair. But a small vein of some energy or understanding passed between Olivia and Arya during that brief moment and Olivia blinked. The little toddler began to cry, very silently. Big wet sloppy tears rolling down her cheeks from under her large hazel eyes.

Rowan was puzzled by this. Was she frightened of Arya? or just upset? Arya was talking to Theron; obviously a show of his importance. A setting in one's place, so to speak. Rowan could not have cared less, if she had sat him in a chair and told him he had no place there. He really wasn't terribly interested in what she thought of him. Right now, his most pressing concern was dealing with Olivia.

With one arm, he bounced her up and down gently and the other he signed at her. Olivia signed something back which seemed a little incoherent. Something about pain and not pain, and empty coldness and terror filled darkness. And something else about being quite lost.

Rowan didn't know what to do so he kissed his baby sister on the forehead. She held her arms out for Arya. The boy prince had second thoughts about handing her out. This was shrake's temple, and he wasn't sure what the children would do to his sister- or what shrake would do for that matter. Still, Arya seemed kind enough...

And he couldn't take her out there with the soldiers. But he was quite loathe to leave her here. For a moment he let her bounce up and down while he thought about his options and the possibilities of his plan being accepted. Theron was asking about it.

"I think you should let me go..." It would be a tax on his system, but he could do it. "...I can make them think they've got me." He would have done it sooner, but illusions lasted only so long; and the chances of the trick working twice on the same people were slim indeed. He had hoped to simply outrun them, like always.

"Here... let me show you." It would be easier to demonstrate then explain. Rowan took a step back, and turned to face one of the black walls before him.

He drew light from the torches till it made a ball in the center of the room. This ball wiggled out and about, bleeding into the air around it till it was roughly Rowan's height, and resembled his sillouhette. This glowed and coalesced until it became Rowan. Right down to the muddy toes that stuck out of the tips of his well-worn shoes.

"How is that?" Both Rowans asked at once.

Olivia had quieted down a little, and was no longer crying.