Once Upon A Twisted Time

Once Upon A Twisted Time

By JEAnderson

Prologue

Luminescent snow caped the rough grounds as rough and jagged peeks pierced the moonlit sky with effortless ease. A wind swirled about him like the swirling unease in his gut. Something was amiss. Something was wrong. He stood there at the opening of his den staring down far below him. His bronze scales glimmering in the full moon light.

His heightened sight had picked up a fleck of fire. It darted about the pine trees and bare oaks of the valley below. It suddenly stopped.

Magnus was intrigued, he couldn’t help his curiosity. For the most part he kept his dragon nose clean of trouble from the humans and other beings. In his old age he had had his fill of adventure centuries ago. Retirement was suppose to be boring.

Laying there he ticked a claw against the stone of his cave. Watching the little flame much like a cat with a mouse. Wondering if he should investigate or simply leave well enough alone. After all, no being without wings could possibly get up here and rob him. Or worse.

The mere thought of it caused him to give a sharp toothed grin and a low rumbled chuckle. He almost wished for something to happen. It had been such a long time since he had a good entanglement with something.

The flame started to move about back at a brisker pace then what it had lazily started with. There was a village not far away by sky, but perhaps a days journey for a human. If that was the case, they were heading back quickly. Perhaps something frightened it?

Magnus huffed his indecision with a puff of smoke from his nostrils. It was his territory, the least he could do was figure out if something nasty lay about his valley.

Growling as he stood up he stretched. Joints in all four legs groaned, claws scrapped stone, wings stretched, and back popped. Oh how he cursed being old.

One good leap he pounced on the early morning sky. The wind feeling like an embrace from an old friend, he dived. Passed the jagged mountain side with wings tucked in tight. Through the gap between two cliffs he entered into the valley. A few feet above the snow covered trees where he lurched his wings. He coasted silently, eyes fixed on where he had seen the little flame stop.

He couldn’t smell anything alarming on the wind. A few deer here and there spooked at his presence as he grew closer….

There!

Something small by the frozen creek.

Magnus shifted slightly and found a spot larger enough for him to land. Carefully he made very little sound as he touched down in the snow. It was soft, powdery, he barely noticed any cold. Then again when one had a living fire in them, the cold was irrelevant.

His breath produced could as he tested the air again. A human scent rose about, but a noise drifted to him. One of anguish and sorrow. It sounded small. Now what could possibly be small and scare humans that much? Then again they where odd creatures, humans.

A curiosity rose in Magnus to a level he hadn’t felt since he was a hatchling. He stalked forward. The snow crunching slightly. Closer and closer he got. Between the trees he could see the little thing standing. Crying, calling. The scent of fear laced the wind. Pure panic and anguish tickled Magnus’ senses. Whatever this was seemed to be more afraid then a hare being chased by a fox. The cry grew louder and shrill.

Magnus moved another few steps and peered through the trees. A child! There stood a child!. Hardly over a year old, shivering, barefoot in the snow, a tattered dress hung off her. Her hair almost as white as the snow was ratted and dirty. Her face twisted as she desperately called out for her mother. Tears freezing against rosed checks.

Magnus was taken aback. The humans had not ran into something they feared. They ran so the child could not keep up with them. They left her.

The little thing stepped forward and tripped face first. Snow billowing about her. Unsteadily the poor thing tried to get up.

Something tugged on his old tuff heart strings. Offspring where the most cherished and prized things in the dragon world. No hoard, no battle, could take place of the honor it was to even have offspring. Why would one leave them to die alone of cold. Or worse. This close to The Wilds any amount of nasty creatures wouldn’t bat an eye lash at an easy meal.

Magnus inched closer. The snap of a twig and the crunch os snow under feet made the little thing look his way.

Eyes wide and crying suddenly stopped. He full expected her to dart off as her oddly colored eyes met his. A couple of heartbeats passed before the girl sniffed and tried to walk toward him.

Magnus sat, watching in utter amazement at this little thing toddle through the snow. Arms outstretched for him. Did this thing have no fear of him? She certainly did have fear when she was alone.

“Well aren’t you a peculiar thing,” his old voice rumbled through the air in a deep tone. It had been years before he had spoken to anyone. “You should be afraid of me.”

He dipped his head down inches away from the girl. She stilled her advance. Eye to eye Magnus looked at her. Much like her hair they too where white. He drew his head back and cocked it to the side studying her. Could she see?

The poor thing stumbled again and sobbed. She did not get back up. The cry stuttered with shivers.

He could feel it. Taste it. Magic.

It wavered for only a moment.

But Magnus knew it wasn’t his. The child was abandoned due to magic. Another peculiar thing. Were mages considered bad among humans now? They were once highly sought out for a numerous of things.

Regardless. He should leave well enough alone. Let nature takes its corse….

“Mamma…” the stuttering little whimper tore at him.

This was going to be a bad idea. With one clawed hand he scooped up the child and held her gently up to his chest. She nestled into his warmth. She weighed practically nothing.

“Come now,” he cooed, weighing his options.

This was going to be a bad idea.

***********************************************************************************

Kalma sat on a low stone fence. The shadows of the alley lay about her like a cape. A warm sea breeze brushed through her hair. Taking a deep breath she calmed the little bit of nerves she had.

Even the sea smelled different up here. The nobles and wealthy merchants had chosen to make their homes just for the scent alone made sense. In daylight the sight she was sure matched the wonderful scent with ease. Far different from the slums she had just come from. Where it smelled of dead fish, old, garbage, and despair.

Standing up she ran her callused hands over the smooth silk green tunic. It was too big, hopefully no one would notice. Kalma was small framed, athletic, and clearly came into women hood. There was no hiding that. Unfortunately the messenger outfit she stole was from a young boy who towered over her and held the bulk of someone how liked to scrap. He now slept in a pile of discarded fish guts in the slums.

The pants she didn’t even try to take. She had scrounged up a pair that where similar enough to mimic the uniform. The messenger bag however she did take as well. Flicking off remnants of a swim bladder off the rich leather, Kalma adjusted the straps and slung it on.

Messengers were common on these streets in Safehaven. At all hours oddly enough. So she shouldn’t be over looked. Well almost, a strand of her long white hair fell in her face as another breeze teased it. Grumbling under her breath she quickly gathered it all up and tied it as nicely as she could. It didn’t have to be perfect because she slammed the odd hat over it all.

It unfortunately smelled like fish as well.

Taking another deep breath she strode through the empty, moonlit ally and out in the street. A guardsman standing near a cross street under a magic lit lantern eyed her.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as the fun began. She quickly waved at the guard and jogged across the street. He eyed each of her steps warily. No doubt well seasoned in his position.

“Evenin’ Sir,” Kalma’s layer think her honeyed sweet voice, twisted her face in fake relief.

“Evenin’,” he nodded, his eyes seeming to like what he saw.

“I’m sorry to bug you, I know you have more important things to do, but do you think you could spare some aid,” she started as she poked around in her messenger bag, pulling out an order paper, “I’m new and took some ill advice. Do you know the quickest way to this address? I’m already late and Cybella is going to kill me if the package doesn’t get there soon.”

“Ah,” he took the paper and nodded. “My nephew is a messenger, that Cybella sounds like she runs a tight ship.”

“She does,” Kalma giggled a bit through a sigh. “Thank you so much! You are saving my job”

“Of course my dear,” he beamed as she fed him the false feeling of rescuing a damsel in distress. “Now go two blocks down, turn right, and it will be the mansion just before The Hill.”

“Thank you so much again,” Kalma placed a friendly hand on his arm just as another guard rounded the corner not far away. Watching as she took the order paper back.

Coasting at a jog Kalma went straight down the street, only nodding to the other guard. She didn’t look and and wonder at the various nice houses. No she was on a mission, both fake and real.

She new eyes watched her. From the two guards to many others that no doubt hid in the shadows.

Two blocks down Kalma quickly cut across the street and followed the guard’s instructions. Or at least until he was out of sight.

The house she was looking for was indeed down this street. Another guard walked about the street on his rounds. Friendly nod and smile always went a long way for Kalma. He simply nodded back, with a side glance.

Kalma waited until he’d passed the corner before slowing just at the edge of a shadowed hedge. The hedge was too high for her to see much of the building, but there where no signs of occupation in the upper story. First checking to see if anyone was watching her, Kalma dropped to the ground and shimmied under the wall of greenery that enclosed her target.

The pristine lawn was immaculate. Shrubs, and flower beds sprouted in the warm spring. Still she knelt there, watching for any movement. Reaching out with her senses for any sign of a protective spells. She smiled even more when there was no tingle of magic. Southerners, like this noble, dispersed magic.

The open-aired windows on the second floor was what had drawn her to this place. That and the fact that this particular noble had very vocally claimed that they should start hunting mages. Destroying them. Calming them unnatural. It wasn’t something that was shared by all, but he had made an enemy out of Kalma regardless.

According to her informant, he and his wife where out on the town this evening. Kissing some war hero’s ass. Kalma rolled her eyes at the thought. The war never did worry her. She could care less about it. She didn’t feel like she belonged to any kingdoms anyway.

Bolting across with lawn like lightning she pressed herself against the building. Again, she stretched her magic out, feeling, poking, prodding, for any hint of spells. There it was. It tugged at her. Scoffing to herself and muttering ‘bigot’ and ‘asshole’ under her breath. Naturally and windows on the main floor had them. But she couldn’t feel anything on the second floor.

How had they not been robbed before?

Using almost nonexistent hand-holds, Kalma pulled herself up the wall. Using her nibbled fingers and narrow souls of her boots she shoved them painfully in where the mortar separated brick. Reaching the ledge she hoisted herself up quickly. It wasn’t a simple latch. It was locked from the inside with bolts.Clearly to avoid thieves.

Using words that had been out if use from human langue from living memory her magic came burning alive. The shutter seemed to shiver and loud clicks sounded the successes of the spell.

Sliding in like a shadow she closed the shutter quietly behind her. Peeking through a small gap, making sure no one saw her.

Her magic was different from normal mages. She never understood why, but she never took it for granted either. It was useful, especially when she used it to dismantle ones life by stealing their prized possessions.

No sign of life out there. She turned to the task at hand. Ignoring the stinging in her finger tips,

She stood in a small sitting room that smelled of linseed oil and wax oddly enough.it was dark enough she couldn’t quite see. Pushing the inner barrier between her magic and her she drew around it. The power warmed her veins, and felt every bit apart of her as her soul was. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again her brilliant green eyes turned white. The wold that had been dark came to life in bright shades of blues and white.

With her nightsight she could see every detail of this study. The lord looked to be in the habit of repairing old books. Boring enough Kalma walked to the door. The study was on ground level, there the safe would be.

Walking with confidence she glided out into the hall. Whistling while she worked, Kalma peeked into a couple of rooms before hitting her mark. The walls lined with books and trinkets. Both of which she would love to take her time and nab some of them. They weren’t worth her time.

The mahogany desk was ridiculously large. Partly because she was convinced the noble was compensating for something, but mainly because it was hiding the floor vault.

“Pity,” Kalma said rounding the desk and pushing the chair out of the way, “here I thought this would be a challenge.”

A group of tiles was slightly higher than the rest. Kneeling down she ran her hand over it. The tingle of someone else magic barked at her. It was a simple protection spell. Nothing elaborate. In her mind’s eye the runes the mage used came alive. As if weaved in a cloth, and all she had to do was find the loose end. There was always an end and a beginning to a spell from a regular mage. Kalma prided herself with the fact that there was no spell she could not break. That was one of the reasons why her adopted father named her after the ancient goddess of chaos.

It took a few moments but she found the loose thread. With barley a bead of sweat she pulled at it with her own magic. It unraveled in an instant, falling apart.

Pulling off the loosened section of flooring she was surprised at the weight of it. Shoving it aside she peered down below. In the small recess there were several leather bags in a neat rows, with jewelry boxes. A wicked smile of satisfaction spread across her face. Now how much to take? Jewelry wasn’t really her thing, yet…

No coins first. Six bags in total, each with fifty gold coins. Taking the messenger bag she stuffed the bags in it nicely. Then she plucked a jewelry box out. Opening it the glimmering diamonds and rubies in various forms ranging from necklaces and matching earrings to bracelets and cuff links. Cold and silver chains and settings.

“Ooo and you’re coming with me,” she chimed as she dumped the box in the bag. Then another, and shamefully the bag was getting quite full. Just as the emptied the last box of jewels that where yet to be made into anything, something had caught her eye. A small wrapped parcel. It was tucked back in the far corner, a thick layer of dust. Reaching for it it hadn’t felt like much.

A sudden sound made her head snap up. Her heart skipping a beat or two.

She had to hurry.

Shoving the last parcel in she spelled a glimmer over the vault. In a matter of seconds it looked like it had been before she emptied it. Only when they reached in to grab it would the spell be broken. Reveling empty barges and boxes, and one other thing. Her calling card. A small carved dragon. With the lid back on the safe that was when she heard laughter outside.

They were back.

Perfect timing. The bag was too heavy to climb down with. Plus, the owner was just about to undo the protection spell to let himself in. Grinning, Kalma waited by the window and sure enough the feeling of the protection spell fell away as they entered. A shove of a shoulder and the window came open with little force. She was out and across the yard and back in the shrubs before they could reinstate the spell.

The strap was digging into her shoulder. A quick glimmer spell made it look as if it was empty, and unless a guard touched it they wouldn’t know any different. Back under the hedge she righted herself and strode down the street like she owned the place.

Walking with confidence and purpose made the difference. Also making sure she dropped her night-sight spell, she would appear normal.

This time she merely waved at the guards as she walked passed them. Intent on getting back to her ‘employer.’ By the time they would remember her the next day they would never see her again.

Back down the alley she began and back in the shadows she felt so comfortable in. At this point the alley lead out of the rich side of the city to one or two places. The beach or the slums. Either way a messenger would be considered out of place. Carefully placing the messenger bag down she tore off the tunic and hat. Her sleeveless shirt underneath was a bit cool for the night, but not near as suspicious as the tunic. Her dagger in clear sight of anyone and was a deterrent to those stupid enough to mess with her. If that didn’t do it the black tattoo on her right arm showed the crescent moon of a mage mark did. They would have to be completely drunk and stupid to mess with a mage.

Three years. It had taken her three years to earn a reputation of a women no one wanted to mess with. To her father’s great distress she enjoyed an occasional scrap in the fighting rings. Yet to her father’s great pride she had never lost.

Hanging a left she headed down to the old docks. The smell of fish returning and stronger now that it was low tide. Magic prickled the air as she jumped down from one of the docs to the beach and walked along the cliffs. The sand wet and shifted under her feet, her legs where going to kill her by the time she got ‘home.’

“Where have you been?” His voice came from above. Graveled with irritation.

Kalma just about jumped out of her skin. She knew the voice all too well. Sighing heavily and looking up she met the swirling amber eyes of a large bronze dragon.

“Hi Daddy,” she said sheepishly trying to hide her stolen goods.

*************

“What in the Realms drives you to do this? I Don’t understand,” Magnus grumbled pacing the length of their den. His tail twitching in annoyance his wings tucked in tight. The massive body powerful and riddled with scares. Yet he maneuvered around the the extravagant, very humans sized, sitting area surprisingly nimbly.

A large plush red couch and matching chairs surrounded a central hearth with a fire blazing in it. The walls of the cave had been turned into smooth tall walls like one would find in a temple. Littered with books, lit lanterns, weapons, and every art. Tables displayed philosophical studies in a language no human knew to speak. An area tucked away held a kitchen, while another held an oversized bed, dressers and chests full of clothes.

“Since when do you care about me stealing?” Kalma crossed her arms as she sat on the couch rolling her eyes.

“I could care less about what you take from the stupid humans,” Magnus growled, his teeth in a snarl. “It’s you using your magic. You are not a normal human Kalma, you know this!”

“Yeah,” Kalma felt slightly guilty. “I know. I’m sorry! I just…”

“What? Get bored?” Magnus added, smoke streaming from his nostrils while he huffed and growled.

Kalma had been the reason they had moved all her life. When Magnus had taken her in it became evident real quick that she wasn’t a normal mage. She had been able to use dragon magic, humans magic, and the occasional druid magic as well. Magnus had taught her how to control and use her different forms of magic. Taught her how to read, write, fight, mathematics, geology, and the various politics of the different realms and Kingdoms. She could speak fluent elvish, dragon, common tongue of the humans, and even two dialects of the fae.

Yet all if this and Kalma had felt something was missing. She craved to use her talents. Relished in challenges.

“Even if the Paladin mages found my magic,” Kalma sighed, “I could hide it. You taught me how. I can come across as a normal mage.”

“Oh aye there lass,” he nodded frustratingly, “I know you can. But we tried that four years ago. What happened?”

“They,” she paused, “asked me where I learned.”

“Aye,” the dragon sat on his haunches and rubbed his temples with his front claws in a very human like way. “You told them you were taught in Grandmeri. One of the most prestigious mage schools.”

Kalma used to giggle at the fact that dragon expression mimic so much of those that seemed human. They walked on four legs, but used the front two more like hands and arms that had reminded her when she was little of raccoons.

“There was no way that they could have check my credentials,” Kalma added.

“There are ways,” he argued, “and what would have happened if they found out that you were living?”

“You would have laid waist to the city in a wonderful uncontrollable fire?” Kalma tried to inject humor. Magnus glared at her, not a stitch of amusement.

“Not too mention you were far to young for those spells,” he added.

“You are just an amazing teacher…”

“Kissing my ass wont get you any ware Kalma.”

“Fair enough,” she added. “But I’m nineteen. They wouldn’t think much of it now.”

“Kalma,” Magnus warned her. “I don’t want them to take you away. They wouldn’t understand. And lack of knowledge breeds panic, and panic breeds bad decisions. They will kill you because of you difference. They have already tried once.”

“You’re right,” she sighed leaning back in the couch and resting her feet on the coffee table. Magnus had never hid the truth of how he had found her. How she was left because of her magic. If her own parents couldn’t handle her when she was barely a toddler how would the rest of the world? “I’m sorry Dad. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” he added. Laying down and resting his head just on the other side of the coffee table. “Did you at least get anything good?”

Kalma emptied the contents of the bag on the oversized table. Cold coins and jewelry spilled everywhere. Sure everything was eye catching, but she laid back. Exhaustion seeping into her muscles.

“Just gold and jewels. Nothing really fun,” Kalma shrugged.

“When will beings learn that knowledge is worth more then gold?”

“Probably never. What about your hoard though?” Kalma laughed picking up a ruby necklace examining it carfully.

“I came across my hoard honestly,” he pointed out picking up the wrapped parcel between two claws. “Plus, money buys books, books contain knowledge. Humans just try and get more money. It’s never enough money. You aren’t becoming that. Are you?”

“No,” she assured him.

“Good. I raised you better.” He placed the wrapped parcel back on the table. “Go get some rest my dear.”

Kalma didn’t argue. She left her little hoard on the table and went over to her sleeping area. Tall pillars segregated it from the rest of the den and heavy curtains gave her some privacy. Normally she would draw them closed, undress, and bathe before bed. Not tonight… or today… she was far to sleep deprived to care.

Kicking off her boots was the best she could do before diving onto her bed. The mattress fit for a queen and enough pillows to build a mountain out of. Magnus had spoiled her, she new this. It made her feel even more guilty for her nights adventure.

Kalma had not woke up until early noon. Her father had clearly gone out, which wasn’t unheard of. Dragons, despite their size, could blend in their surroundings in more ways then one. Changing shapes being one of them. Her father was no different.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she sat about getting ready for the day. Scrubbing a layer of fishy smelling dirt she accumulated from yesterday she dressed in her usual ‘day’ attire. A simple silk blue dress with a fitted bodice. Her dagger hid under her skirt and strapped to her thigh, just encase. Simple slippers didn’t do much for keeping her feet warm down here in the den, but up above where it was warming quickly they would service well. Looking about for her last prop to sell her ‘innocent’ look the coffee table caught her attention.

The parcel sat at the top of the pile. Padding over it it she picked up the canvas wrapped box. The twine on it was old and had an oily feel it it. Turning it in her hands she started to unwrap it. Layer after layer she unraveled it all until finally reviled it.

Runes was the first thing Kalma noticed. Not just any runes, old runes. Ancient runes. Ones to ward off magic.

Ward off?

Now she was intrigued. She couldn’t feel any magic. There was no lock just a simple latch. Fumbling very little with it it opened. Excitement filled the air as she opened it up to see… an old amulet. Is simple small amulet with the crescent moon etched in what looked to be silver. Two stars at either end with swirling clouds as a background. It seemed innocent enough. Small. It would fit in the palm of her had with room to spare. It was beautiful no doubt, but nothing she would think need protected with the old runes. Picking it up by the chain, Kalma lifted it out of the box.

The moment it left it was like a wave. A wave of heat as the reassure built around her. A think oily magic descended about her. Dropping it in the box she slammed it shut.

Like a candle being snuffed, the effects of the magic dissipated. Her breath ragged as a shiver ran down her back. That wasn’t normal.

Shanking hands placed the box back on the table. Her mind for once in her life was completely blank. She just stared at it.

Her father. She needed to find her father, and… she stopped for a moment. There was one other person in town that might know. Markus. He lived on the border between the slums and the nicer houses. He had his hands in a lot of darker dealings. This amulet seemed right at the top of his list.

Slinging the now very empty messenger bag on. Hesitating slightly, Kalma stuffed the box with the cursed amulet inside and headed for the stairs. Stopping briefly to grab an old staff.

The stares led up to an old decrepit temple that had been in horrible disrepair. An elaborate cover was leashed that her and her elder father where the new keepers of the temple. No one in the city had thought twice. Most never even came here due to the nasty believe that it had been haunted by the death gods hell hounds…

It also added in the rumors that when few teens had snuck on the grounds Magnus took the opportunity for a little fun. Well for him anyway. Their screams could be heard for miles as they ran from what they thought was a demon.

Kalma was the face for her father. Clearly it would be alarming to find a dragon hiding just miles out of the city limits. She was two sides of the same coin. She had the twisted darker side that came out when she was out at night. Then there was the sweet, handicapped, temple keeper’s daughter that came out during the day.

She paused just before reaching the old hidden door to the inner hall of the temple. Much like blinking the spell to change her eyes was simple. The pretty green faded again to the eerie white.

Pushing open the door to the temple she strode out. Making the staff skid the ground in front of her feet she played the part of blind girl well.

Adapting a vacant stare was the hard part. Especially in crowds, but it was doable after years of practice. This wasn’t the first time she played blind, Nor would it be the last.

Like normal the temples was barren of live souls. Unfortunately that meant her father wasn’t there as well. He probably flew out to hunt.

To Marcus it was. Kalma never minded visiting him. He was not much older then her and she had a fun time with him.

The day was warm as she briskly walked down the old overgrown path. The birds called to her Druid magic. Wanting to sing with them and play about the forest like some wild child… but no not now.

For the first two miles along the path no one met her. The oaks were think with leaves as the noon sun played in the branches.

It was late afternoon by the time Kalma made it to the gates and ushered in. The busy hustle of the main road was hectic. Luckily people gave her a wide birth. Not only was her occupation frown on by the locals and seen as a bad omen, but her name alone was a silly superstition around here.

Down the winding roads, past the merchant shops, in and out of the crowds and the bustle of the day. Kalma remembered why she didn’t like coming here in the day. She could care less about the crowds.

The sun was just heading down by the time she had gotten to the area. Less crowded she was able to move faster. The little shops where closing up for the day as she muddled her way. The little shadows that watched her she didn’t mind. As long as they watched and didn’t try anything funny.

Less and less people. Where out. Even a could scuttled past her as she turned onto the street. Like mice scuttling back to their holds. That’s when the uneasiness settled in.

Kalma dropped her façade and took off at a run when she laid eyes on what used to be Marcus’s front door. It lay in shards on the cobbles of the street. Still running she Shepard Marcus’ scream. A mix of true rage and terror that echoed in the fading day.

As she reached the dark entrance she haulted. Gained wariness forced her to exert cautiously when she wanted rush. She listened for a moment, but on there was nothing.

Stepping across the threshold, the tangy smell of blood assaulted her nose. Panicked as the thought of losing a rare friend she recklessly flooded the darkened area with a mage light.

Blood everywhere. As if someone had tried to paint his house with it.

“Marcus?!” Kalma shrieked, rushing in looking through to the kitchen, the living area. He was there on his knees in the corner. Arms hanging limp at his sides. His shirt and skin under it tattered with hundreds of cuts.

“Marcus!” She cried out.

At the sound of her voice he looked up. Fear plastered over his face.

“Run!” He demanded, but it was too late, she was across the room. Ditching the staff next to them she took looked at him. Not knowing what to do.

A cold chill rolled its way down her spine as a spell told her things had gone very wrong. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t elf like Marcus was.

Turning around she looked around his living area. Furniture had been destroyed, vases broken, paintings ripped. But there was no one.

Detection.

She needed to see it.

“What do we have hear?” A snide tone echoed about the room.

Sight she spoke in dragon language, and her world dived into a multitude of layers.

There they were. They dropped their spelled invisibility. Necromancy. That was the magic they used.

They were orcs. Dressed in guard uniforms. Save for the fourth one. He was shirtless, covered with runes drawn in blood over his chest and arms. Eyes as white as hers. The nasty thickness of magic oozed out of him. His grin showing a once charming smile.

“Leave her out of this,” Marcus tried to sputter but fell to his hands.

“All you need to do is tell me where it is,” the necromancer turned to him.

“I told you, the only thing that matches what you are looking for Lord Grant has,” Marcus panted.

Kalma froze. Grant? The Lord she just stole from?

“He didn’t have it,” the dark mage tilted his head as the others started to circle them

“What is he looking for Marcus?” Kalma’s voice was just above a whisper, but she didn’t dare take her eyes away from any of them.

“A box I delivered to Grant three weeks ago,” Marcus s found the strength to stand next to Kalma. His blond hair plastered against his paled face.

“Listen,” the mage tucked his arms behind his back. “You have a very interesting friend here. A mage, but I don’t recognize the magic. What are you dear? Don’t make me ask twice. Grant did, his body will wash up on the shore in pieces.”

Kalma didn’t answer. Instead she dropped the barrier that hid her magic from everyone. It roared in the veins like a raging river. Somehow hot and cold at the same time. Mailable like clay to whatever she needed.

Surprise light his face as he took a step back. The orcs could sense something, but they where confused.

Her fits held handfuls of white, raw, power.

“Get out,” her words rattled the room.

“Hello Changeling.” A wicked grin crossed his face. “Forget the box for now. I want her.”

“What?” Kalma tried to register what he said but an orc jumped forward.

“NO!” Marcus shoved Kalma back…

The sword ran straight through him. His blood splattered warm droplets on her face. She watched in horror as Marcus hit the floor. Knees first, then the rest of him when the orc retrieved his sword. Another orc grabbed her and held her arms behind her. The necromancer walking forward as one of his men tore the messenger bag away from her.

Her eyes where glued to Marcus. Her friend. Blood pooling about him grew as her power dowsed in her disbelief.

“What are you doing with this?”

The necromancer held the box in his hands. A cruel laugh broke out as he opened it up.

No. Something in her snapped.

Her power hit her hard. She let it burst from her as she screamed. The orc holding her let go and was thrown back. The others shielded themselves.

Fire erupted from her hands. Kalma was going to take them all down. She let loose the power raging in her.

Once rushed her but she side stepped him, shoving her hand in his face. Forcing the flames in his mouth, down his throat. Skin burning filled the room as he hit the ground. The necromancer tried to run. Kalma blocked the door with more flames. They where at her command.

Dropping to the ground she stole the fallen orc’s sword. It was heavier then what she was used to, but it didn’t matter now. Kalma jumped forward meeting the blade of an orc while fire blasting the other one back. Her feet danced around while she swung her blade again expertly. Running it along his throat and back across his gut.

Blood sprayed her and sizzled from the fire. As she turned.

Something blunt hit her from behind. In the small of her back. Pushing her over an up turned chair she rolled back to her feet just as the necromancer’s fist met the side of her face.

Dazed.

No, focus. Be quick.

She recoiled blasting a fireball at him. He drew a shield barely in time, but the force of it knocked him back a few feet. Kalma rushed forward with blade and fire. The box toppled out of his hands as he held his shield against her as she rained her power down on it.

Every spell and a beginning and and end. She would burn it at both ends.

Dropping the sword she shoved both hands flat against the shield. Forcing her power into it. The look on his face grew twisted as he did the same. Trying to force her back.

His spell knitted in front of her. It started to fray under her power. Out of the corner of her vision she could see the door she had blocked with flames burst open. More. She sent everything she had, the well of her power shoving against the shield.

He yelled something. She didn’t hear. The knitting of his spell was waning…. Until.

Her back racked against what was left of the bookcase. Breath stolen from her. Pain erupting in the back of her head. Sliding down to the floor she sat there. World whirling, the tang of blood in her mouth. Flames licked about her, no longer in her control. The heat from it brushing her skin.

Something glinted on the floor next to her. It was silver.

The amulet came into focus. She reached out. All of this because of this?

Her hand touch cold metal as forms flooded into the fire. Shadows, and shapes of men and elves. All she could do was look at the amulet in her hand.

It shimmered. The fire reflecting on its surface.

Someone knelt hurriedly in front of her. Strong hands grasped the sides of her face.

Dazzling Safire blue eyes stared back at her. He was saying something. His features blurring some.

“Are you alright?” he sounded so far away.

Kalma looked down at her hand. The amulet gone.

Darkness fading in her around her.

She could feel arms grab her and hoist her up.

*****************

The feel of her pillow and warm blankets about her told her she had had a bad dream. The aching pain in her head and body told her otherwise.

Kalma squirmed. She felt like she had gotten her ass kicked in the fighting ring.

Wait…

Her eyes snapped open. Her breath caught as she started up at a ceiling she did not recognize.

Heart plummeting to the depths of her gut, Kalma new she messed up.

Looking around the well lit room she tried to get her bearings. Several beds, like the stiff one she laid in, lined the walls. They were empty. Curtains meant to separate them where not drawn closed. A heavy medicinal aroma hung around. Magic, the hum of magic not her own laced the air.

She was in a healers infirmary. Sunlight from breathtaking large windows was almost blinding as she tried to sit up.

“Take it easy there,” his voice flowed in. Gravely, but kind.

Kalma look up at the door as a burly man stepped in. He was a hole head taller then her. Black hair shaved at the side with the top long and pulled back into a military knot. His warrior status was clear, as muscles where well defined, even under the loose white shirt he wore. The black pants and sword at his side gave Kalma a bit of an alarm. They where part of a uniform. The very uniform they had been trying to avoid.

“Where am I?” He throat and mouth felt like she tried to eat sand.

“You’re safe,” his sapphire blue eyes flashed a smile as he strode over to the end of her bed.

He was the one that had helped her out of the fire. After… the memory of what happened rushed her. Like a wave against the cliffs.

Sitting up, she eyed the man carefully. Of half man. The slight point of his ears suggested he had some elf in him.

“Where the fuck is ‘safe’?” Kalma didn’t beat around the bush.

The man looked taken aback at her language, but swiftly tried to hid a grin.

“You are a spitfire aren’t you?” He crossed his arms eyeing her differently now. “I’m Captain Paladin Killian.”

A Paladin. The rug fully was swept out from under her. Magnus was going to be so pissed. Was she going to die for her magic? A million things ran through her mind.

“Breath Kalma,” he said seeing the pure panic behind her eyes.

“Wait,” she shook herself, “how do you know my name?”

“I…” he paused slightly, rubbing his square jaw. He didn’t look much older then her. “… ran into your adopted father.”

“Oh shit…”

“Yeah,” Killian nodded, “he’s…”

“Where is he?!”

“He’s getting something to eat at the moment,” Killian assured her, something in his eyes made her calm a bit. “I don’t have much time to speak to you without other ears. I and only a hand full of select others truly know what he is. We will not speak of it, and be carful what you say. Not many are aware a dragon can take human form, if need be.”

“He’s in his human form?” Kalma’s face twisted in guilt. “How mad is he?”

“Let’s just say, you are lucky I have dealt with pissed off dragons before,” he winked.

“I’m never…”

“Going to hear the end of this?” Magnus’s voice boomed through the place as a middle aged man in mage scholar robes came waltzing in. His brown hair the shade of bronze was flecked with gray at the sides matched the scruffy beard on his face. Amber eyes bright and swirled with anger, and possibly relief. “No dear, you are NEVER going to hear the end of this.”

Relief gave Kalma energy. Jumping out of bed she threw her arms around her father. Burying her face into his shoulder. His arms embraced her. She ignored the pain in her back as he tried to carefully pat her.

“I’m so sorry,” She said as he half held her.

“I know. But what have I said about control?”

“They killed Marcus.”

Magnus sighed heavily as he held her at arms length. The look on his face was sympathetic and yet stern. He nodded, motioning for her to get back in bed.

“I’m sorry about that. But you could have wiped out the whole block,” he started.

“That was impressive, could have used you in the war. It would have ended a lot sooner,” Killian muttered as he walked over and checked to see in anyone was there before shutting it.

“Not helping,” Magnus growled as he sent a glare that would weaken a normal being. Killian just shrugged as he leaned up against the door and crossed his arms.

“The Necromancer,” Kalma tried to explain, “he was looking for something that Marcus had delivered…”

“The Amulet of Mara,” Killian injected, “we know. It had been lost for centuries , an old ancient relic that holds the power of Mara.” The death goddess’s human daughter. A myth and legend from ancient times.

“Paladin Killian had tracked it to Safehaven, and even to Lord Grant’s house,” Magnus clarified. “Only to find him dead, then a ‘power’ had burst across the city. He ran to find…. Your mess.”

“Where is the amulet?” Kalma almost didn’t want to ask, something cold swam through her veins in place of her normal magic.

Killian pointed to her chest. Kalma looked down the white cotton shirt she wore. A tattoo just above her cleavage twisted and turned in her skin. The crescent moon, stars, clouds… she looked up at her father. His eyes holding pain as he looked at her.

“It has attached itself to you,” Magnus’s words sunk in slowly.

“How… but…” Kalma was at a loss for words for once in her life.

“It can be removed,” Killian sighed, and quickly added, “without killing her Magnus, don’t worry. We just need six items.”

“Yeah,” Magnus snorted rounding on the Paladin, “six powerful relics that each leader of the realms holds. Do you know how hard it is going to be to get those?! That necromancer will be on our heels. He knows she has it and he wants it!”

“He’s alive?!” Kalma was stunned.

“We will protect her!” Killian started to raise his voice. “We want this amulet destroyed as much as you want it out of your daughter. It’s too powerful to have it in the wrong hands.”

“I can’t believe this!” Magnus threw his arms up and started pacing the floor. Kalma had a feeling that this was an ongoing argument between the two of them. How long had she been out for?

“Let’s take this out of here and let her rest,” Killian suggested.

“That has got to be the smartest thing you have said the past three days,” Magnus reluctantly agreed, stopping to give Kalma a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be just outside the door. I’m not leaving you.”

Flashes of the night they met shimmered across her memory. She gave a week smile and nodded.

“Rest up Kalma,” Killian said as he opened the door, “we are a long journey ahead of us. You’re going to be stuck with me for and my men for a long time. You are also going to need some training as we go. I’ll explain latter.”

As the door shut. Kalma could hear her father argue with the Paladin about training, traveling, safety. He was pissed, and yet she was more happy to have him here then she was afraid of his anger.

Laying back down, she looked out the window. The clear blue sky and roof tops seemed peaceful. And yet she knew everything was about to change.