Ryse wasn’t the sort of girl most people looked at twice. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, but rather that she was average. Some might go so far as to say she was unremarkable. It wouldn’t have been a stretch by any use of the imagination, either, and was largely true.

Only five and a half feet tall, by the standards of the Kingdom of Oboro, she wasn’t tall, or short. She just was, and few people thought any more on the matter, often forgetting the girl as soon as she passed them by. Her hair was a lovely shade of almond, but not striking in any fashion, nor were her dark, stormy blue eyes.

Ryse wasn’t the sort of girl boys swooned after, or sought to bed, or proposed to. She wasn’t the sort of girl other girls envied, or orbited in the hopes others would envy them. She was just a girl, a little past her sixteenth year, and didn’t even notice that no one thought her interesting at all.

There was one thing Ryse was, however, and always had been. It was an odd thing, not the kind people noticed, but present all the same. She was very lucky.

Not in terms of gambling, though she was known to get good dice rolls when she played Cups with her friends. Nor was it in terms of love, for she had no boyfriend, and wasn’t looking to pick one up any time soon.

Ryse’s luck came in the form of always being one step on the right side of bad luck. When she had been five, a mining cart had slipped its brake and rolled down a hill, smashing everything in its path. She had just crossed the street to marvel at some new stuffed animals that had come from a craftsman in Savacal, and had missed being hit by inches.

At ten, a bridge crossing the Black Chasm, a rip in the earth from a cave in many years ago, had collapsed. She had stopped just one step away from the broken boards, seconds before the collapse, because she had thought some one called her name. One more step, and one more second, and she would have plummeted to her death.

When she had been thirteen, she missed a bonfire log rolling over her because she suddenly moved to speak to someone she knew. At fourteen, it had been the collapsed stable, moments after her impulsive decision to go for a ride. At fifteen, it had been the cracked ice on Hanner’s Pond, and her spur of the moment desire for warm cocoa.

All her life she had been lucky, and by the span of minutes, and less than a foot. Few people paid any heed to this, or even really remembered all these near misses with death, as she wasn’t overly remarkable to begin with.

She was one other thing. She was happy. She always had a smile, and a kind word for everyone she met, even if they couldn’t recall her name. She never faltered in her chores or duties, and no one ever noticed, because she never made a fuss of getting them done.

Ryse wasn’t exceptional by any means. She was lucky, happy, and diligent. It’s a sad thing when those qualities are not worth noticing.

It’s a safe bet that eventually, someone will take note, and smile.

~*~

Ryse strolled through the marketplace, her typical smile in place. It didn’t beam, nor was it cruel, but rather was a look of general contentment.

Around her, life went on as normal, the crowded, narrow streets making navigation a chore for many, but it wasn’t the sort of thing she minded. People bartered, traded, and haggled as they did every day, for if there was one constant about the city she lived in, it was that there was always something for sale somewhere.

Reaching the far corner of the plaza the merchants set their tents up in, she heard the steady ding-ring of a hammer on metal and grinned a bit wider. There was only one person she knew that ran a hammer with that kind of precision, after all.

Nudging her way through the afternoon crowds, she spotted the armory tent quickly, the sides rolled up to grant easy access from any approach. Steam rolled off troughs of water where heated metal rested to cool while a forge belched black smoke through the opening at the top of the canvass structure.

Amidst this stood Jet, a tall and powerfully built woman bearing the tribal tattoos of the Bull Clan, Oboro’s closest allies. With short, spiky hair the color of coal and a tan than made her the envy of every woman in the city, Jet was the finest armorer in the market. She frequently left for long periods to return to her clan and trade the finely made Oboroan goods for ones her clan made, then returned to repeat the process in reverse.

She was also Ryse’s best friend, something that her parents often looked upon with a frown. It wasn’t that they disliked the barbarian woman, quite the opposite. Ryse’s father was one of the main supplies of coal for her forge. It was rather that they feared the wild nature of the woman would rub off on their only child, and that was not the sort of life they wanted for Ryse.

Ryse often found it amusing they never bothered to ask what sort of life she wanted for herself, but never said as much, as she still lived under their roof, and was a respectful girl.

She crossed to the tent as Jet worked the steel on the anvil before her, the movements of her arm steady and precise, forcing the metal to bend to her will. Ryse never tired of watching her work, the movement of her body hypnotic, her face a mask of concentration, as if she was locked in a mental battle with the steel itself.

Once in a while, the girl thought that perhaps she was a little too fascinated by the tattooed woman, but always put those thoughts aside until she was older. There was a time and a place for everything, after all.

Ryse was also a good bit practical.

“Jet!” she called as she stepped into the tent, drawing the woman’s eye.

A wide smile broke across the barbarians face upon seeing her. “Ryse! Come on in.”

She did, settling on one of the stools Jet always kept handy, watching as the other woman finished her work before dunking the chest plate into the water with a pair of tongs. Her body was covered in a fine sheer of sweat that made her glow, and Ryse couldn’t help but see the admiring looks the barbarian drew from many a passerby.

“When did you get back?” she asked as Jet settled on a stool by her, tugging a cork from a ceramic bottle.

“This morning,” she answered after a long pull of the cool water inside. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you before now. You’re usually by the gate road when I come in.”

Ryse gave her a sad face. “Dad wanted me to go help mom at her shop today.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“What’s the point of getting Isnarian silk if I can’t make myself a dress out of it?”

Jet arched an eyebrow at that. The thought of Ryse in one of the sheer silken dresses of the desert kingdom was an interesting thought, but not an idea she felt she should be entertained.

“I think you’re still a bit young for that,” she laughed instead.

“Possibly,” Ryse admitted. “Though I’d still like to at least try one on. They look like they’d feel really good.”

“All good things, my friend,” Jet told her with a wink.

“Come to those who wait,” Ryse finished with a smile.

“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, Ryse. There’s no need to rush things. Let them come to you,” the barbarian said as she stood, checking her work in the troughs.

“Is that what you do?”

Jet looked at her with a sheepish smile. “It’s different for me. I’m Bull Clan. We don’t believe in waiting.”

“But you tell me to,” Ryse pointed out with a scolding look.

Jet rubbed her head. “We also aren’t known for our debating skills, you do realize that, right?”

“All too well,” came the answer, accompanied by an impish grin.

Jet laughed at that, and started to call her a ferret, the nickname she’d given the girl long ago, for her unique ability to wiggle away from anything dangerous. She started to, but never did, as the market place was rocked by an ear shattering explosion.

The barbarian was at her young friends side instantly, eyes darting as she searched for the source of the sound. Black smoke rose up from the north, as people panicked in the marketplace, the sounds of a series of smaller explosions easily reaching them.

“Damn fools,” Jet snarled. “Tell me they haven’t tried using black powder to clear tunnels?”

“I think so,” Ryse replied, watching the smoke churn into the sky with worry. “Dad got a shipment of it recently.”

“From where?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

Jet frowned. Black powder wasn’t reliable, or even remotely safe. Mixed wrong, it could destroy half a city block, and those ore hungry idiots were setting it off right under everyone’s feet.

“I’m going to go see if anyone is hurt,” she said at last, leveling a finger at Ryse. “You stay here. Understand?”

“Jet,” she started, but was cut off by the Bull Clanswoman.

“Stay!”

“Okay,” she sighed.

Jet disappeared into the crowd, heading for the north mine shaft. Ryse kicked her feet a few times, though about it, and decided she should really help if people were hurt.

“I’ll stay away from the mine entrance, and just help the people that need it,” she said to herself. “It’s what every good Oboroan should do. Help their neighbors.”

Satisfied she’d found a logical loophole, Ryse darted after her friend.

It is possible that she was also a tiny bit reckless, due to her countless, and fortunate, lucky breaks.

~*~

The area around the main north mine entrance was sheer chaos. Dozens had been pulled from the shaft, dazed, wounded or worse as fire control teams passed water buckets up a line to try and douse the flames burning within.

Ryse didn’t see Jet right away, but only glanced for her as she moved to help a healer tend a man with a head wound. The barbarian could look after herself, she knew, and her first concern was the health of the diggers.

She wrapped bandages and cleaned wounds as more injured arrived, helping in any way she could for half an hour before she spotted her friend, carrying an unconscious worker to where they had been gathering the wounded. Immediately, Ryse could tell Jet wasn’t happy to see her.

“I told you to stay put,” the barbarian yelled at her over the din.

Ryse gave her a slight grin. “And let you have all the fun?”

The other woman gave her a dark, but proud, glare and turned to the healer, an older man called Bale. “There’s a few more still inside, that I can tell. I don’t think they’re seriously hurt, though. I’m going in to get them, so be ready.”

“Be careful,” he told her.

“Jet,” Ryse called as the barbarian turned to go, making her pause. “Hurry. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

She nodded and was gone. Ryse hadn’t elaborated, either. Something gnawed at her, a sensation that she couldn’t ignore. She was more than worried about her friend, she was afraid, and she couldn’t shake it.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she told Bale, who simply waved her on.

Trotting towards the mine entrance, she watched as Jet stopped to talk to a pair of workers emerging, then hurried inside. Ryse chewed her lip, waiting to see her come back out, but time drug by, and she saw nothing but smoke emerge.

She cursed herself for even thinking of going after her, then did just that. She only got three steps before an underground explosion shook the entire city, making the ground tremble and throwing her down.

She heard a whistle pass over her head and looked up. A chuck of rock the size of a large dog had been thrown from the mine and struck the ground where Bale and the injured were gathered. There was nothing left but red stains and screams.

Wide eyed, she pulled herself up and ran to the mine. There was nothing she could do for the healer and the injured, and she knew it. All she could think of was that her friend was in danger, her own near miss with death not even crossing her mind.

Reaching the shaft, she saw four diggers emerge, coughing on the smoke, blood stained and dirty. One of them was being carried by two others, and didn’t look like he was going to last long, making the gnaw in her gut tighten painfully.

“Where’s Jet?” she asked the leader of the small group.

“Who?” he yelled, his ears still ringing.

“The woman who went in after you?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know. Lost sight of her.”

Panicked, Ryse ran into the mine, ignoring the calls that came from behind her to stop, or wait. Jet was in trouble, she knew it, and she couldn’t do nothing while her best friend died.

Inside, the tunnel was choked with smoke, and fires burned everywhere she looked. Mine carts of coal raged like an inferno, the heat overwhelming, forcing her back a step as she tried to see through the chaos.

Pulling her shirt up over her mouth, she ran past them and headed deeper inside, knowing Jet couldn’t have gone far. The explosion had come too soon after she’d gone in. She had to be close by.

Equipment burned, as did bodies that she tried not to look at too close, least she see a familiar face. The smoke was suffocating, and her eyes burned as she pressed deeper into the disaster, searching for some sign of her friend.

A great gust of wind sucked air deeper into the shaft, and Ryse knew she was in trouble. Somewhere, deeper in, something even worse had just happened. A methane pocket, most likely. She only had minutes, maybe less.

In that moment, as the smoke was cleared, she spotted Jet, lying across the tracks. The last explosion had thrown her down, her head striking the rail, and the others had left her behind. Running to her, Ryse tried to think, but from somewhere in the mine, she heard a roar, and knew.

Her luck had finally run out.

Grasping the woman under the arms, she heaved with all her might, dragging her back towards the entrance. She didn’t have long, and could well imagine the wall of fire that was already racing up the tunnels, bearing down on her with such force, she doubted she’d live more than a few seconds when it hit.

“How came someone… ungh… with such a body as yours… oof… be so damned heavy,” she groaned as she dragged the unconscious barbarian back.

The roaring was growing louder, and the tunnel had begun to shake. Glancing back, Ryse knew she was never going to make it. There wasn’t going to be any miraculous last second saves this time. She’d pressed it too far.

She wasn’t going to just leave Jet, either. Turning, She tried to lift the woman, but found it impossible. She was too heavy, too tall, and Ryse wasn’t enough of anything she needed at the moment.

Behind her, the roar was deafening, and she lowered her head, holding her best friend, already feeling the inferno at her back.

A form moved at her side. Looking, she saw a man, tall and powerfully built, the muscles beneath his open shirt rippling as he knelt. His hair was black as night, his eyes dark as coal, but when he smiled, he lit the world.

She started to tell him to run as he wrapped an arm around her, but couldn’t speak. He swept a massive black feathered wing from his back, wrapping it around her as the inferno reached them.

Fire was everywhere, chucks of rock flowing past them, wrapped in flame like an illicit lover caught in the act. She felt heat, but wasn’t burned.

She stared into the mans eyes as he smiled at her, lifting a finger to his lips and winking. Ryse stammered for something, anything, to say.

As fast as it had come, the inferno passed, the mine shaft behind her collapsing with a thunderous roar, right where Jet had been laying when Ryse had found her. Darkness engulfed her, her eyes struggling to adjust.

“Child!” a voice bellowed, ringing through the tunnel.

In her arms, Jet stirred and groaned, drawing Ryse’s eyes from the strange man with the wings. Looking down, she saw the barbarian grimace as she touched her head, blinking in the gloom.

“Jet, thank the Gods,” Ryse sighed.

“Ryse,” the other woman moaned. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” she answered.

“Child!” the voice rang again, closer now.

“Here!” she called. “We’re here!”

A form blocked out the light and for a moment, Ryse held her breath, looking to her side to find the strange man gone, as if he had never been.

A hand reached out to her, four times the size of any she had ever seen. Raising her eyes, she looked into the face of a Troll as he smiled gently.

“Take my hand,” he said.

Without thinking, she did.

~*~

“What were you thinking?” Ryse’s father, Craig, yelled. “Running into a burning mine shaft? Have you taken leave of all your senses?”

Ryse sat at the table in the family room, hands folded in front of her, looking at her father calmly. “I was thinking that someone needed my help. Isn’t that what we are taught from birth? To help our friends?”

Across the room, the Troll who had carried she and Jet from the mine, Massada Averagne, chuckled at that. Her father glared at him, but the Troll didn’t care, and kept on grinning.

Beside her, Jet held a rag to her injury. Though the bleeding had stopped, the cool cloth still felt good to her aching head as she said, “I’d have died there if not for Ryse.”

“That’s not the point,” Craig snapped. “You’re an adult, and she’s a child, and had no business being anywhere near that disaster!”

“Perhaps we’ve all had enough excitement for one day,” Willa, Ryse’s mother, said from the far end of the table. She was often the more practical of the girls parents.

“Don’t try to distract from the issue,” Craig snapped. “That woman almost got our daughter killed.”

“Yet both live,” Massada intoned. “While thirty four other families mourn their loss, you mourn that the child lives. You are a strange lot.”

Craig glared at the massive Troll, who had to stoop just to fit in the room. He was eight feet tall, after all, and the room had a seven foot ceiling.

“I do not mourn that she lives, either of them,” Craig told him. “And I am thankful for what you have done. However, what Ryse did was beyond absurd. It’s a miracle she didn’t die in the final blast.”

“I told you, there was a man, with wings, who protected us,” Ryse told him. “How many times must I say it?”

“That’s enough of your stories,” Craig barked. “Go to your room. We’ll decide on your punishment in the morning.”

“Punishment?” Ryse exclaimed. “For what? Not dying? Saving someone else? For that I am to be punished?”

“Go to your room!” her father bellowed.

Angry, and defiant for the first time ever, she stood and stormed from the family room. Upstairs, they heard her door slam, Jet with a wince.

“This is your doing,” Craig told the barbarian.

“Mine?” Jet replied with disbelief. “I told her to stay in the marketplace.”

“She wouldn’t have gone up there if she wasn’t always following you around,” Craig told her, jabbing a finger at the woman angrily. “It isn’t right, the way you let her hang around you.”

Jet rose, tossing the rag on the table. “In my clan, by her age, she’d already be a woman, and either trained at the forge, or battle, or both. Perhaps you shelter her too much.”

“This isn’t some barbarian clan,” Craig growled. “And frankly, I don’t want my daughter picking up your indecent habits.”

“Indecent habits?” Her hands trembled to strike him.

Craig narrowed his eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. You know exactly what I mean. It isn’t right, and I’ll have no more of it. You are not to step anywhere near my daughter.”

Jet walked around the table, meeting Craig’s glare with one of her own. “I think it’s time I consulted other merchants for my needs, then. As far as Ryse is concerned, I’ll stay away from her only as much as she stays away from me.”

“I’ll have you barred from the city,” Craig warned. “I have powerful friends.”

“You best bring them all,” Jet growled and left the house with all the delicacy of a typhoon.

“That went well,” Massada chuckled, stroking his white gold goatee, the same color as his mane of flowing hair.

Craig glared at the pale blue giant, but said nothing. The gesture wasn’t casual, instead designed to clearly show the bull head Divine Mark on the back of his right hand. Massada was a well known Blessed of Hepheron in Oboro, and not to be taken lightly, for however many friends Craig had, Massada had more, and better ones.

“Thank you again for saving my daughter,” Craig got out past clenched teeth.

“No need,” Massada told him. “She was safe and whole when I found her. I merely helped her carry the barbarian out.”

“Still,” Willa put in. “Thank you.”

He bowed, as best in could in the tiny room. “Speaking of the Lady Jet, I should see to her. She injured her head, and may need help finding her way home. Good evening.”

With that, he left, squeezing his bulk through the door. Only once he was gone, did Craig deflate a bit, still angry, but less so.

“She did a good thing,” Willa sighed.

“She almost died,” Craig replied.

Willa shrugged. “She has a knack for not doing so. We should be thankful. Instead, you throw away one of your better clients.”

“That woman is not one of my better clients,” he snapped, waving a hand at the door Jet had departed through.

“Of course not,” Willa said with a touch of sarcasm. “Just one of the few who pays on time, and without a war being waged to get it.”

Craig fumed over that for a moment. “What would you have me do? Allow her to keep influencing Ryse the way she has? The girls sixteen and doesn’t even have a boyfriend, or any interest in finding one that I can see.”

“Well, you’ve tended that matter already, haven’t you?” Willa asked him, her sarcasm deepening to anger.

“I do what I must,” Craig told her. “And I’ll hear no more argument about it.”

“Oh, I know,” she shot back. “Though, since she’s already angry with you, now is perhaps the right time to tell her, so she may learn to hate you.”

With that, Willa left him alone.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, looked at the stairs, and began the long journey to tell his daughter he had arranged for her to be married.

~*~

Ryse sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chin, and tried to understand why no one believed her. She had never been one to lie, and everyone that knew her, knew that.

“Stupid parents,” she muttered, looking out the window at the city.

A soft knock at her door preceded her father, who got the coldest shoulder his daughter had ever given anyone. He frowned as he stepped into the room, sitting on the foot of the bed.

“I know you’re angry with me,” he told her at last.

“Gee, really?” she snapped.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he snapped back. “Which you do not make easy.”

She scooted herself around on the bed so her back was fully to him, saying, “Pardon me for being such a pain.”

“Now is not the time for temper tantrums, Ryse,” he scolded. “No matter how you look at it, what you did was dangerous. You are reckless, and try as I might to teach you responsibility…”

“Responsibility?” she exploded. “I am responsible! I acted while everyone else stood back and waited to let Jet die! How is that not responsible?”

“Enough,” he yelled, coming to his feet. “I can no longer allow you to run amok and do as you please.”

“Run amok?” She rose, meeting his glare.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he barked at her. “You have responsibilities to this family, and it’s time you started living up to them.”

“Like what?” she asked, unable to believe what her father was saying to her.

“I’ve been in negotiations with Edger Baron, the chief council of the merchants association. He has a son, a few years older than you, and we’ve agreed that the two of you should be married to join our fortunes.”

Ryse stared at him in horror, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’ve what?”

“You heard me,” he told her. “Lord Baron will be coming tomorrow so you can meet your future husband. The wedding will be next week. Once that’s done, there will be no more running about acting as a child. You’ll behave like a proper lady.”

“I will do no such thing!” she growled.

Craig nodded slowly. “You will, Ryse. It’s for the good of us all. Lord Baron is a powerful man, and we need his allegiance.”

“So I’m to lay down and be the sacrifice for your gain?” she snapped.

“You’re to do your part to help your family,” her father replied. “The matter is settled. I suggest you wear your finest tomorrow. Alexander will be expecting it.”

“Alexander?” she asked. “Oh, how kind of you, good sir, to tell me my husbands name before I meet him. Thank you ever so much.”

Craig flinched a bit from the sarcasm in his daughters voice. “Someday, you’ll understand. I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“You’re doing what’s best for you,” she shot back, voice thick with venom. “I just hope you got a decent price for your only child on the market, father.”

He regarded her for a moment, then turned and left, locking the door behind him, least she attempt to flee in the night. Hearing the click, she threw herself against the barrier and screamed, to no avail.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he told her through the door.

“I’ll curse you every day!” she screamed.

She heard him leave, his footfalls as he walked down the hall like the beat of the drum counting out her time left to live. She sank to the floor, back to the door, and wept.

~*~

By the next day, Ryse’s mood had grown only more sullen, and her father found himself trying to avoid the dark glare she threw his way whenever he possibly could. Willa tried to run interference, but found herself on Ryse’s side in the matter more and more. The idea of marrying off their daughter simply did not sit well with the independent minded woman.

“I’m not going to do this,” Ryse told her mother as Willa looked over the dress she had given her to wear.

“We all make sacrifices, dear,” she replied. “Some of us more so than others.”

“Sacrifices, yes,” Ryse grimaced. “I just wasn’t aware we had fallen to the human variety as yet.”

“I don’t like it either, but you’re father has already arranged it,” her mother told her. “What would you have me do?”

“Stand up for what you believe in,” her daughter answered. “Or is that something else we have sacrificed along the way?”

Willa found that words failed her. She frowned, smoothed the girls dress a bit, and tried to smile, but it felt false on her own face. Ryse was right, and she knew it. Still, when she looked at Craig, she knew how much was riding on this, and couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

“There are factors at play you don’t know about,” she finally said.

“Then enlighten me,” Ryse replied, her sarcasm and bitterness thick.

Willa began to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Lord Baron had arrived.

Craig checked himself one last time, then smiled, waving at his family to do the same as he admitted the portly merchant lord and his son. Ryse hated him on sight.

Only slightly taller than her, and thin as a rail, the young man had floppy brown hair that seemed determined to hang in his matching eyes. His outfit was rather clownish as well, purple and gold with a ruffled color that made her wince in distaste.

Then there was the way he looked at her, as if she might bite him or something, though the thought did tarry in her mind a while. Alexander Baron, her future husband, looked every inch the fop.

Ryse compared him to Jet, though she knew she shouldn’t, and was immediately even more afraid for her own future. If Demon Seed came and tried to steal her away, the boy before her would likely faint rather than strike them down, as her friend would.

Her father and Lord Baron were speaking, but Ryse wasn’t paying them any mind. All she could think, at the moment, was how much she wished Jet were here to show this idiot how pathetic he was. How small and unworthy.

She was a bit shocked by the venom in her own mind. She didn’t know him, yet she hated him so much. Stilling herself, she tried to smile, but it was painful.

“This, of course, is my daughter, Ryse,” her father was saying, waving a hand towards her.

“Ah, yes,” Lord Baron intoned, almost with disdain, but not quiet. “She’s lovely, of course, simply lovely. I think she and Alexander will make a lovely match.”

Ryse doubted the man understood the meaning of the word lovely, in any capacity.

“Alexander,” Lord Baron droned, waving the young man forward.

He nodded, lifting a small gold platter from behind his back, upon which rested a delicate egg carved of gold and inlaid with silver. He swallowed, and stepped forward, holding it out to her.

Things happened very quickly after that.

Alexander caught his foot on a loose board Ryse couldn’t recall ever seeing before and pitched forward, landing face first on the floor with a loud whomp.

Everyone stared in shock, none more so than Ryse.

“Alexander!” his father cried in dismay.

“I’m okay!” he cried back, struggling to his knees, one hand going to his nose, the other flailing blindly. “I think I broke my nose!”

His hand found the table, where it was impaled by a fork. He howled and fell backward, striking a chair with force enough to topple it. Everyone, save Ryse, scrambled to help the lad, while she simply stared in open mouthed shock.

Alexander gained his feet, his nose pouring blood, his father trying to catch the fork to remove it. The young man stepped, his foot finding the platter upon which the egg had rested only a moment ago, and was pitched forward yet again as it slid, this time striking the table with the full part of his face.

He ricocheted backwards, landing on the chair, his back bending over it painfully, before rolling into the floor, again, face down.

Ryse blinked.

“What in all the names of Hell is wrong with you!” Lord Baron was roaring, trying to pull the boy up with the help of Craig.

“That’s it!” Alexander bellowed, shoving them both away. “I told you this was a bad idea, but you wouldn’t have it! Now right before you, is as ill an omen as can be found. I apologize to Lady Ryse, but I can not, and will not, be marrying her!”

Despite the rather nasal whine of his voice, Ryse suddenly found she could no longer hate him. He didn’t want this either.

“Now see here, boy,” Lord Baron called, puffing himself up, which was an amazing feat, considering his already considerable puff.

“No,” Alexander snapped, holding his nose. “I’m done. You want her married, then you marry her! I’m finished!”

He bowed to Ryse, who simply nodded in disbelief, then left, slamming the door behind him on the way out. The force of it shook the mantle, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the large spherical rock her father kept there begin to roll.

“Do not worry over this, my good man, I’ll set him to right,” Lord Baron said only seconds before the rock hit him square on the head.

Everyone stared in open horror as the oversized Lord Baron staggered, his foot finding the lost egg, and pitching him face down on the floor with such force, the house shook a bit.

“Well,” Ryse said in the momentary silence that ensued. “I guess that settles that.”

“It settles nothing,” Craig snapped at her as she headed for the door. “You will marry Alexander next week, as planned.”

She felt the sculpted heel of her shoe sink, realized she’d found the loose board, and could only watch as the far end swung up, catching the dazed Lord Baron between the legs as he tried to stand. He whimpered, and collapsed once more.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she told her father, and left the house, slamming the door behind her.

The mantle gave way, dumping the rest of its contents on the good Lord’s head with a loud crash.

~*~

Ryse wandered the streets of the city, lost in her own thoughts, allowing her feet to find their own way. She had traveled these roads her entire life, and knew them with her eyes closed. More than ever before, she was grateful.

Before she even realized it, she found herself in the market place, standing to the far side of the plaza, watching Jet work. For the first time, she asked herself what she really wanted from the woman. Friendship, or more?

She knew the answer. Knew that her idle daydreams were just that. Jet was Bull Clan, and no doubt was pursued by many men of her tribe. That she would ever look at a city dwelling girl as anything other than a friend was absurd.

Still, she couldn’t help feel her heart tug her in that direction. She asked herself why, and found she knew the answer to that as well. Jet always made her feel safe, and as if simply being herself was enough.

That was why she felt so drawn, and she knew it. It wasn’t the silly illusions she allowed herself from time to time, of more than just friendship between them. It was about comfort, and in her friend, she had found that.

Chastising herself, she turned away, unable to face the woman. It seemed many of her illusions about herself were being shattered this day, and though she desperately wanted to hang on to at least that one, it too slipped away from her.

She really was a child, selfish and spoiled. She had never been out of the city, even once, while Jet traveled many miles, and faced who knew what kind of dangers along the way. To think, for even a moment, she would ever be able to stand alongside someone such as her was childish fantasy, and nothing more.

She wandered again, hugging herself as the weight of true adulthood begin to bear down on her. Letting go of her flights of fancy was hard, but she knew she must do it. Facing tomorrow was even harder, yet she knew she must do that as well.

As she drifted through the streets, no destination in mind, the few people who ever noticed her passing saw that she walked now without her perpetual smile, and briefly wondered what had happened to the girl, though they found they couldn’t even pull her name to mind.

For the first time in her life, Ryse felt the pain of it, of being unremarkable, and unnoticed by the world. She felt it heavily, and it stung her deep, for she had long believed that decent people were treated decently, and only then begin to see that it wasn’t always so.

Soon, her meandering feet carried her to Anvilmast Park, a stretch of trees and fountains lined with benches that she often went to when she wanted to sort her thoughts. To her surprise, she found Alexander seated on one of the benches, wiping the blood from his nose.

With a heavy sigh, she joined him, folding her hands in her lap as he looked at her curiously, then stared at one of the fountains. They remained like that for some time.

“It isn’t personal,” he finally said, his voice soft and low.

“What isn’t?”

“That I don’t wish to marry you, it isn’t personal,” he answered. “It’s just that, I don’t know you. I’m sure you’re nice, but, well…”

“You’d rather marry the person of your own choosing,” she finished when he trailed off.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“So would I,” she told him, echoing his sigh.

He looked at her then, his eyes carrying a great sadness. “You don’t want to marry me either then, I take it?”

“No, I don’t,” she admitted. “Though, as you said, it’s nothing personal.”

“I should have expected as much,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you at the house.”

He waved that off. “Hardly you’re fault. I was so nervous, I’m surprised I made there without having an accident. Seems I was only saving them up to have all at once.”

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “No worse for the wear I suppose.”

She nodded and fell silent. He may think it wasn’t her fault, but Ryse wasn’t so sure. The cruel thoughts she’d had of him as he had entered the house seemed almost to manifest and assault him directly. It was foolish, she knew, but still, she found it most strange.

“Do you have someone?” he asked suddenly. “That you’d rather be with, I mean.”

Ryse shrugged. “Not really. There is someone, but I think it may be a silly girls crush, and nothing more.”

“Knowing that makes you less a silly girl, and more an astute woman,” Alexander replied with a wan smile.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “What of you? Do you have a special someone?”

He nodded, looking back to the fountain. “I do, but father disapproves.”

“I’m not sure he would approve of anything,” she replied with a snort.

Alexander chuckled at that. “He never seems to, no, but in this case, I guess I always knew he wouldn’t.”

“Why? What’s she like?”

Alexander gave her another wan smile. “He. My lover is a he.”

“Oh,” Ryse replied. “Still, love is love, and that’s what the Gods teach, so it isn’t as if that’s worth his disapproval.”

“He’s a digger,” Alexander told her.

“Oh,” Ryse replied again.

“All my father sees, or cares about, is his station, and mine. Always he tells me, mind your place in society, son, and let the grubbers mind theirs.”

Ryse’s eyes turned hard at that. “There’s nothing wrong with an honest days work.”

“That’s what I say, but he doesn’t listen,” Alexander moaned. “If only he’d take the time to get to know David, he’d see that he’s a kind and gentle man. He has ambition, even, which my father loves more than almost anything.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Ryse admitted.

“He is,” Alexander said softly. “He plans to step to the forefront of the diggers union soon. Wants to stand up for the rights of the workers that keep this city moving, he says. I admire him so for that passion.”

Ryse nodded her head slowly. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find a way for the two of you to be together, no matter what.”

Alexander stared at her in surprise. “You think such is even possible?”

“With a bit of luck,” she told him as she patted his shoulder. “Anything is possible.”

Alexander smiled then, and she had to admit, he was kind of handsome when he did. Not handsome enough she wanted to marry him or anything, but not bad.

~*~

Night was falling, and Ryse had left Alexander to face his father, and make his demands that he be allowed to live his life as he saw fit. She, meanwhile, had resumed wandering aimlessly, not ready to go home, but having no where else to go.

As she drifted, she wondered if luck would see her through this, as it had so many other things. She was aware she’d always been fortunate, but this seemed different.

Her mind wandered back to the man she’d seen in the mine, and she had to question herself a little. Who had he been, if in fact, he’d been real at all? But if he hadn’t, how had she and Jet survived the blast?

Ryse paused and groaned, leaning against a building as she began to question her sanity. Too much had happened in the last two days for her taste, and it was too hard to sort it all out.

Sitting on the walkway that separated the buildings from the street, she buried her face in her hands and lost herself for a moment in self pity. It didn’t last long, and it wasn’t something she was accustomed to doing, but she felt she deserved it today, just a little.

When she looked up, she realized she didn’t know where she was. She knew the city well, but the neighborhood was unfamiliar, and the run down look of the buildings made her uneasy.

The Dargon District. She was in the Dargon District. The one part of Oboro she never went to, due to the nature of the people that called the seedy section of the city home. She glanced about, but saw no one, save her father, and felt a little better.

Ryse blinked. Looking again, she realized she had indeed seen her father. He slipped into an ally, and she rose, trailing after him, pausing at the mouth of the back street to peek after him.

What was he doing here? And at this time of night?

She realized she could ask herself the same question, but chalked the entire thing up to her mysterious luck and paid more heed to her father than herself for a moment.

He stood several yards down, and as she watched, a dark man joined him. Not dark in appearance, but dark in nature. There was something about him that made her skin crawl.

“Craig,” the dark man said. “I’m very unhappy.”

“Simon,” her father replied. “I don’t give a damn.”

“Mind your tongue with me,” the dark man called Simon snapped. “We had an agreement, and you failed to carry your end.”

“So it’s my fault your alchemists messed up, then?” he father asked him sarcastically. “Don’t put your failings off on me.”

“The black powder I sent you should have torn half this city apart,” Simon snarled. “Instead, it caused a few days delay in mining operations. Tell me, how can that be?”

“I’d say your people aren’t as good as you think,” Craig replied with a dark smile.

Simon scowled at him. “Or someone tampered with the powder.”

“Prove it,” Craig shot back.

“Oh, I intend to,” Simon replied, suddenly laughing. “You’ll be accepting another shipment of black powder. This time, you’re going to make certain it does it’s job.”

“I kept my end of the bargain,” Craig yelled. “All my debts to you are paid.”

“Ah, poor Craig,” Simon chuckled. “You think that one failed job clears all the money you owe? I don’t think so. You still owe thousands of gold coins for your gambling losses, and as such, belong to me.”

Craig waved a hand at him. “Forget it. I’m done helping you.”

“Then perhaps I’ll take what I owe from your cute little daughters posterior,” Simon told him.

Ryse gasped, then covered her mouth quickly. So that was why her father suddenly wanted her married off!

“You stay away from my family, you son of a bitch!” Craig bellowed.

“Do as I say, and I assure you, I will,” Simon replied. “Meet me at Steeplemire, at midnight. I’ll deliver the black powder, and you put it in the hands of those who will use it to crush this city once and for all.”

Craig trembled with impotent rage. “Then what?”

“When the armies of Pirnot arrive, and the Demon Seed rule this city, you will be handsomely rewarded, that’s what.”

Ryse ducked back into the street, unable to hear anymore. She wanted to tell her father not to do it, to walk away, that she’d marry Alexander, anything! Anything to stop him from being a traitor.

Massada. The name floated into her mind like a whisper. The Blessed of Hepheron would know what to do. If he was like the rest of the Blessed that came and went through the city, he’d be at Oathhall, having a drink, and telling stories.

Ryse steeled herself. Luck had driven her to wander here and overhear her father, she knew. Luck had granted her the opportunity to meet a Blessed of the High Gods. Now, she prayed that luck would guide her swift and true to Oathhall, that she might warn Massada.

That her fathers life depended on it crossed her mind. That the fate of Oboro rested on it did not.

Ryse ran as hard as she could.

~*~

Oathhall lay in the Capitol District, the heart of Oboro, along side the most august and important governmental and religious institutions the city had. A massive circular structure that rose high into the sky, it was as old as Oboro itself, and had once served as the cities only temple, presided over by the Sacred Order of the Tiger.

Since those days, it had gone through many uses, until now, when it served as an official meeting place for any purpose. The laws of Oboro dictated that no lie could be told in the Oathhall, under pain of death, and as such, it had become a popular meeting place for Blessed.

It was to that ancient structure Ryse ran, her side aching and her breath coming in wheezing gasps by the time she arrived. She refused to slow, even when her legs felt like they would snap and shatter if she did not. She refused to stop, even to catch her ragged breath.

She refused to give in.

Pounding up the steps, she darted past those who reclined there, sharing tales and songs, and began searching for the massive Troll. She didn’t even notice the strange looks she got, and wouldn’t have cared if she did. It never occurred to her to think it odd that suddenly, people were noticing her.

Inside, she finally paused, eyes scanning for the Troll, skipping over Dwarves, Elves, Humans, Gnomes, and more as she desperately looked for the only person she knew would listen to her now. The rest of them, Blessed or guard, would likely dismiss her and she knew it.

Finally, she spotted him, standing at a table, regaling those gathered about with a story. Ignoring the pain she felt, Ryse hurried to him, grasping his arm, not caring if she interrupted him.

“Massada,” she cried. “I must speak with you. Urgently.”

He paused in his story telling, looking down at her for a moment, then smiled. “Ryse! What brings you here at this time of night?”

“Sir, I beg of you, it’s private,” she replied, tugging his arm in desperation.

Massada’s mirth fell away quickly, the look of fear in her eyes compelling him to pay heed. He nodded, setting aside the drink he held, and motioned towards an alcove they could speak in.

Thankful, she all but ran there, the Troll at her side beginning to fear something terrible had happened to the girls family. Unseen by both, Jet rose from her table and followed, the sight of Ryse making her feel more than a little ill at ease.

“Tell me, child, what has happened?” Massada asked when they reached the alcove.

“I was in the Dargon District earlier…” she started.

“The Dargon District?” Jet interrupted, shoving in on the two. “What the Hells were you doing there?”

“Easy, sister,” Massada urged. “Let her speak.”

“I saw my father,” she continued. “In an ally, speaking with a man named Simon. He was terrible, and I think he may be Corrupt. He ordered my father to meet him at Steeplemire, to take possession of some black powder that’s meant to bring Oboro to ruin before the armies of Pirnot arrive!”

Massada and Jet stared at her, making her realize she had blurted it all out so fast, it was a miracle either of them had understood a word. She looked from one to the other, regardless, silently begging them to help her.

“That’s a story and a half, child,” Massada said at last.

“It’s not a story!” Ryse cried.

“Easy,” Jet told her. “If she says it is true, then I believe her.”

The Troll sighed, running a hand through his thick blonde hair. “Perhaps, but it seems a bit odd that she would catch her father in such a situation.”

“Ryse has always had odd luck,” Jet assured him. “Trust her.”

He sighed heavily. “Steeplemire, you say?”

She nodded. “You know it, right? The abandoned temple in the Dargon District?”

“I know it, yes,” Massada assured her. “I’ll go have a look, but if you are playing games with me, child…”

“I’m not a child,” Ryse interrupted him. “And I know the penalty for bearing a falsehood in the Oathhall.”

He pulled back a bit in surprise. “Very well. Go home and I’ll see what I see.”

“I’m going with you,” Jet told him. “In case there’s trouble. You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

Massada gave her a hurt look. “I am a Blessed of Hepheron, dear lady.”

“And I’m a warrior of Bull Clan,” she shot back. “Did you want to see who has the bigger dick or did you want to go?”

Massada laughed at that. “Very well, sister, let us go.”

“Go home, Ryse,” Jet told her. “I’ll come by and let you know what we find later, okay?”

Ryse nodded and watched them jog from Oathhall. She bit her lip, and wondered what would happen to her father. She fidgeted, wondering how she was to tell her mother. She groaned, wondering how to tell Alexander she may have no choice but to marry him after all.

Finally, fed up, Ryse squared her shoulders, and did the only thing she could think to do. She went after them.

~*~

Running much slower this time, she trailed Jet and Massada back to the Dargon District, the shallow, empty feel of the place making her feel cold inside. Something about the broken windows gave her the sensation of being watched, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her friends.

Steeplemire rose up before them shortly, a crumbling structure that had once been beautiful, its many steeples long gone to ruin. The entire thing had an air of decay about it, of lost hope, and empty prayers.

Ryse hesitated as she saw Massada and Jet enter the building, then darted after them. She knew she would be of no help to the two, but if her luck held, she might just be able to extract her father from his troubles without him losing his life.

She reached the steps when she heard an odd flutter and paused, looking over her shoulder. There in the street stood the dark eyed man from the mine, watching her with a slight grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eye.

“You,” she said, staring at him in awe. “I saw you in the mine yesterday. Who are you?”

“Perrin, milady,” he replied with a graceful bow, his wings spreading a bit as he did.

Ryse eased her way towards him. “You’re an Ascended, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled.

“Why did you save me?”

He looked honestly surprised by that. “Why not? Would you have preferred I left you to roast?”

“No, of course not,” Ryse replied. “But I’m nobody. Why save me?”

He grinned, a beautiful, yet fearsome gesture. “No one is nobody, dear lady. Rest assured of that.”

She hedged around him slowly, trying to understand what he meant. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, now that’s a wonderfully long and complicated tale. However, for the sake of brevity, luck found me in the neighborhood, and I witnessed you skulking about like a brigand.”

“I’m no brigand,” she argued. “My friends are in Steeplemire, searching for my father, who is in a great deal of danger. I sought only to help them.”

“My apologies then,” Perrin replied. “I shall leave you to your rescue.”

“Wait!” she cried as he turned, and was relieved when he turned back. “You’re an Ascended, a demi god. You can help them rescue my father.”

He shrugged, setting his wings to fluttering again. “I’ve already saved you, so I see no need in saving him.”

“Please,” she begged. “I’ll do anything, just help him.”

“Anything?” Perrin asked, facing her fully, studying her face intently, all traces of humor gone.

“Anything,” she said again. “Please, just help him.”

He looked at the crumbling temple for a long moment, then back at her. “Would you really risk your life to go in there and try to help him? Would you actually die to save him?”

“You already know the answer,” Ryse answered. “Or you would not have had to save me yesterday.”

Perrin nodded. “True enough. Very well, I’ll help, but only if you give me something in exchange.”

Ryse backed away a step. “I’ve nothing someone like you would want.”

“Ah, but you do my dear,” he replied, his voice a soft coo that made her uneasy.

“Name it, then, and it is yours,” she said.

He smiled. “I’d like to kiss your hand.”

Ryse scowled. “Forgive me, but I don’t care to be the butt of a joke while my father’s life is in danger. Be on your way, and I’ll tend to this myself.”

“It was no joke, dear lady,” Perrin insisted. “With but a kiss, I’ll see to it your father walks safely out of his dark arrangement.”

Ryse hesitated. “Truthfully?”

“And with all due earnest,” Perrin assured her.

“Fine, but be quick about it,” she told him, stepping towards him and holding out her hand.

“No, no,” Perrin chuckled. “The left one. I like those better.”

“Fine,” she snapped, holding out her other hand.

He took it, his grasp feather light and cool against her skin. “Are you certain?”

“I already said I’d do whatever it took,” she replied angrily.

He nodded and bent his lips to the back of her hand, brushing her skin with a caress at first, then kissing it deeply. His delicate touch became like iron, and Ryse gasped as the satin soft and chill embrace grew warm, then hot.

She tried to pull away, his lips scorching her flesh, but found herself trapped, held so firm she feared she might lose her hand if she struggled. The heat was overwhelming, and she felt faint, sinking to her knees, Perrin going with her, wings spreading.

Knowledge exploded through her mind with the flutter of a thousand wings. Ryse threw back her head, but could not scream as the truth of what she had accepted was revealed to her.

Perrin broke the kiss and sagged for a moment as Ryse lifted her hand, staring as a tattoo glowed brilliantly on her flesh, then settled into the image of a crows head.

“Arise, Ryse, Blessed of Rialda,” Perrin intoned. “Go forth, and do whatever it takes.”

Rise she did, turning to stare at the temple before her. Her steps then were not hesitant, but determined. Her gaze was not unsure, but set. Her movements were not fearful, but deadly in their resolution.

Perrin grinned as she disappeared into the temple. He flapped his wings and was gone in a storm of black feathers, returning to the High World to tell his mistress that her favored child now served.

~*~

It had taken Massada and Jet little time to discover the broken floor, or the ladder that descended into the darkness beyond. Both could smell the stench of Orc wafting from the hole, and had said nothing to each other as they descended.

Once down, Massada had activated his Divine Gift, wreathing the twin warhammers he carried in green fire, lighting their way easily. Jet had pulled the two swords she carried, and made ready for battle.

Following the cavern tunnel they found themselves in, they soon spotted light, and eased their way forward. Quickly, they discovered that Ryse had spoken true, for her father stood alongside the Demon Seed that had slipped under the city through the network of caves that riddled the earth below Oboro.

“These will need to be sent to all the mines,” the Dark Blessed leading the Orcs was telling Craig.

Massada snarled softly, able to smell the stench of Corruption coming off the man. He owed the child an apology, he could see, for had it not been for her luck, the minions of the Fallen Gods would no doubt have been successful in their attempt to cripple the city.

He exchanged a glance with the barbarian at his side, and they made ready to do battle. Behind them, a whisper of sound drew them both to the ready, only to find Ryse had joined them.

Jet frowned, whispering, “Have you lost your mind, Ryse?”

“I just want to be certain my father is unharmed,” she replied.

“Child, you are troublesome,” Massada added.

“I’m not a child,” she told him, her eyes warning him not to call her that again. “And don’t tell me to leave, because I won’t.”

“Fine,” Jet sighed. “But stay behind us, understand?”

“Perfectly,” Ryse answered with a grin that made Jet hesitate a moment.

“We must be on them quickly, least they leave,” Massada urged, and Jet nodded, pointing at Ryse one last time.

All she got was that odd smile again, but she didn’t have time to think on it. Nodding to the Troll, they stepped out of the tunnel, weapons raised, ready to slay the Demon Seed before them.

“Stand and die!” Massada bellowed, as he strode forward, hammers whirling in his hands.

“Kill them!” Simon yelled at the Orcs as Craig fled the sight of the enraged Troll.

“I’ll take the four on the left,” Jet grinned.

“And I, the four on the right,” Massada laughed.

Behind them, Ryse held up a hand, and snapped her fingers. Such a simple gesture, yet it echoed heavily in the dank chamber.

Things happened very quickly after that.

The Orc leading the charge stumbled on a crag of rock, flailing his arms to keep his balance. His sword pierced the side of his companion, who fell backward, axe slipping free of his grasp.

It hurtled back to strike a crossbow man, who staggered, discharging his bolt into the ear of a fellow. That one also discharged his weapon, shooting another in the back of the head.

The Orc fell forward, his sword impaling the Orc before him, who lurched, his poleaxe wavering and slicing into another. That one flung his arms wide in shock, smashing his hammer into the face of the Orc next to him, an archer who’s shot then went wide, striking the first Orc, who had only just regained his balance, square between the eyes.

They all fell down dead.

Massada gaped. Jet shook her head in disbelief. Simon whimpered.

“Show me your hand girl,” the Troll snapped as he turned to Ryse.

She raised her hand, palm out, looking innocent as a babe. When she turned it, however, balling it into a fist, revealing the Divine mark she carried, her face turned dark, her smile wicked, as she stared at Simon.

Panicking at the forces arrayed before him, he pulled his dagger and looked to Craig. With but a glance at Ryse, he began to race towards her father, intending to use him as a hostage to escape.

She snapped her fingers again, and his foot found a hole, pitching him to the ground. Craig immediately retreated behind the Blessed of Hepheron as the Troll strode forward, weapons swinging out.

“Oh crap,” Simon gasped before those flaming weapons closed on his head.

Jet still stared at Ryse, shock and pride warring in her eyes. “Ryse, why?” she finally asked.

“Don’t be mad, Jet,” the girl answered. “I did leave one for you guys.”

The barbarian didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Instead, she simply hugged her dearest friend, and asked the Gods to be merciful, knowing well the road that lay ahead for her.

Ryse hugged her back, and felt a bit warm. Smiling, she saw Massada approach, and felt certain she knew what he was going to say.

“Well done,” he said. “Though I believe I owe you an apology.”

“Why’s that?” Ryse asked, leaning against Jet.

“You most definitely are not a child.”

She beamed at that.

~*~

Two days later, Ryse found herself standing before the main gate, looking out at the road that stretched to the horizon. She was scared, but resolute.

“Are you certain of this, Ryse?” Massada asked as he approached.

She nodded. “I was raised to believe that you always helped your neighbors. Well, now the whole of the Middle World is my neighbor, and I plan to do my part.”

He bowed slightly at that. “I respect that, but surely your mother will have need of you during this trying time.”

“No, she’s doing well,” Ryse replied with a happy sigh. “Father agreed to tell the authorities everything he knew about the Demon Seed’s plans, and their way into the city, as well as how he sabotaged their attempts, in exchange for house arrest.”

“He was far nobler than you thought then,” the Troll chuckled.

“Far nobler, yes,” she agreed. “I’m proud of him, and that’s to be sure.”

Massada hesitated still. “What of your future husband?”

Ryse laughed at that. “Once I told Lord Baron that Alexander’s boyfriend was going to be elected the leader of the digger’s union, he had a change of heart about him. I am no longer engaged.”

The Troll cocked an eyebrow. “How could you know such a thing?”

“He’s going to have a little luck with it,” she replied with a wicked smile.

“I think that the girl you were is only the girl you pretended to be,” he laughed. “This, now, is the true you.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I never was that unassuming child,” she mused. “Not that it matters now. We’ve work to do, and we aren’t going to get it done standing here.”

He nodded and turned to face the open road with her. Behind them, calls rang out as Jet rushed to their side, pack over her shoulder.

“Jet?” Ryse asked. “What are you doing?”

“Going with you,” he barbarian grinned. “I owe you my life, at least once, maybe twice. I plan on repaying that debt.”

“But your work,” Ryse started, only to be silenced by a wave of the woman’s hand.

“Anyone can do it,” she told the young woman. “I’ve been thirsting for some adventure for a while now anyway.”

“Welcome, then, sister,” Massada told her. “Let us be off, and see what adventure awaits.”

“Indeed, my good friend,” the barbarian laughed.

Ryse smiled, squared her shoulders, and faced the future without fear. She had good friends, and the Blessings of the Grandmother of Creation on her side. What was there to be afraid of?

“Let’s go press our luck.”

The End

©-2018 Cain S. Latrani

#LuckIsASuperpower

Tags » War Witch

Ryse (A Mythic Age Tale)