	"Are you SURE you're going to be all right?" Cristo asked, for what must have been the hundredth time.
	"For the last time, no!" Nara snapped.  Then she smiled.  "I want both of you to remember:  Brey needs to have a Return spell ready to cast instantly.  If you hear us fall, use it," she said to the wizard, the last passenger of the balloon.  Certainly Alena would have loved to come--it was her balloon by the group's vote, after all--but she had "royal business" to attend to.  The day didn't promise to be that eventful for her on either trip--Cristo was to keep the balloon aloft and Brey was to have the spell ready.  She would have been useless there...to Mara and Nara, at least.
	"All right," Mara said, grinning.  She strapped her Wyverns wing to her back and shrugged her shoulders, letting them fit in.  "Are you ready, old man?"
	"Ready for you to come crashing down again," he returned, grinning as well.  Both had anxiety, of course, but when the two clever wizards were around each other long enough, verbal spars, one way or another, were sure to begin.  The two clasped hands as Nara gave Cristo a quick hug, and the sisters hopped to the side of the balloon and were off.
	They flew very carefully to the wooden raft they had tied to the top of the balloon.  Just seeing it gave them memories they knew would last a long time.  Trying to get a raft onto the top of a balloon was no small feat.  They would never know just how they had accomplished it.
	Mara and Nara flew just above it and took their seats on the top of the raft, carefully balancing it while their wings still worked.  When they felt as secure as they could, the two sat down in the direct center and reached under the raft.  They pulled up the ropes there and strapped themselves to the raft face up.  From their position both could see the permanent, more substantial cloud that held Zenithia far overhead.
	"Well...this is it," Mara said, her heart pounding.
	"Yeah," Nara tried to say; her voice caught, though, and the word was lost.  They smiled at one another and giggled.
	The sisters locked hands.
	'To mother.'
	'To mother.'
	Nara stared straight up, focused, and gently moved her hand from her sister's to her tiara.  She let her mind fall into her ability, pouring her energy into it; she felt her consciousness leaving her world for the next quite quickly.  Metrope had been a good teacher.
	"Thank you, Metrope," Mara whispered to herself, the pair's hearts racing and one of their dreams about to come true.

                          Dragons:  Shawl of the Soul Book III

-Mother-

	The sisters' consciousness slipped away from them at Nara's command, their essences freed from their bodies and suddenly allowed to wander about.  Nara knew better than to waste any time and gave she and her sister an aim; they headed for the clouds.
	Nara could tell Mara felt, to put it lightly, quite alarmed at the experience.  She'd seen Nara do it plenty of times, and saved her from death as she did it once, but never gone along with her.  She understood the reaction, deeming it natural for her to feel discomfort as she literally lost her mind.
	The seeress guided their spirits up and through the lower planes, nearly bursting into the top.  While Mara couldn't really know what to expect, her sister thought of this part of the journey would unfold similar to astral projection--their essences would not go into some other dimension, but stay in their own, moving unseen through Zenithia as they searched for the gateway to heaven.  Her expectations didn't match the truth, however.  They swam in a sea of virtual chaos now, not unlike one Nara had already gone through; greens, blues, and reds bobbled all about her.  She recognized her mistake in predicting the outcome quickly.  Still, she thought she could just barely make out the castle she'd expected to arrive in past the colorful haze, but couldn't ascertain the shaky outline's realism.
	Nara had trained for something like this with her mentor, Metrope, less than a month before the journey, so she was less surprised than Mara even if her initial expectations proved incorrect.  In fact, she enjoyed the chaos in one way--it did not tax her energies as some of her mentor's training "grounds" did.
	Mara's essence moved towards her of her own will as Nara looked for the passageway Metrope had told her about during her training.  The sea of chaos made it easier on her--a bright, glowing pillar of it shone through most of it, in the middle.  She guided Mara for a bit towards that until her sister got the message and started for it herself.  The one they loved in their hearts, their essences touched the pillar without hesitation.
	Like souls shooting blindly towards the light, so too did they propel.

	They flew in an instant, as if shot out of the pillar of glitter, and landed on a soft...something, with a <poomph>.  They looked down at it and saw its color--white.  As both referred back to their religious training, they realized they had definitely landed on a cloud.  Standing up, they dusted themselves off, feeling unclean.
	Then Nara realized she was dusting herself off.
	"Mara!" she nearly shouted, eyes going wide.
	"Hmm?" her sister answered, looking towards her.
	Nara returned the favor and blinked.  Mara appeared before her...just as she had appeared on the raft, in a fitting red dress with her hair tied into a heap on the back of her neck--both choices made to keep her body from blowing with the wind.  "We've made it," Nara said, "...in our bodies."
	Mara realized it then, and her entire face widened, her eyes and mouth opening in surprise.  She looked at Nara to see for herself and saw her, in her clothes, one of her smaller purple robes, her hair, tied around her head and neck like a long coif, and her body.  "Just as we were on the raft," Mara voiced.  Thinking about that, she moved her hands to her neck and untied her mane, and Nara laughed as she just caught herself from falling back onto her locks, fully two feet long.  They curled enough to lose a half-foot in length.
	Mara threw a grin in her direction.  "You're just jealous.  Admit it."
	Nara then untied her own hair.  She spread her arms wide, looking down as it fell, long and straight, to just above her waist, after having curved about her shoulders and breasts.  "Jealous?  Of what?" she queried with a smirk.  Mara had no answer for that.
	Her sister flung her mane back and looked out about them.  A clear, blue sky spread before and behind her; she could see no sun somehow.  The puffy, white ground they assumed clouds laid below the two of them, nearly featureless.  The "landscape" gave her a distinct sense of familiarity after the journey she had taken through her mind with Metrope as her guide.  But she did see one difference:  in some places, the clouds swelled.  Some swollen patches looked larger than others...but most seemed almost the size of a house....
	"Where do we go now?" Mara asked, noticing the barren landscape as well.
	"I'm not exactly sure," Nara said, "but look at those lumps."
	"Yes, what about them?"
	"They're the only thing here, Mara.  I'm sure we should do something with those."  Nara approached one cautiously, looking at it, then started feeling about it for gaps.  Mara got the same idea and did so too, starting from where she had and moving the other way; both hoped they would find a way in--and both hoped they would intrude on someone.  The right someone.
	After about ten minutes of searching, Mara backed from the puffy wall when she met Nara.  "It's no good," she said in defeat.  "I couldn't find anything.  Did you?"
	"No," Nara confirmed, her brow furrowed.
	"Then how are we to get in?  And <can> we even get in?"
	Nara looked at the swollen lump of cloud, pondering.  After a moment, she said to her sister, "I think I could...<see> my way in."
	The way she accented "see" put Mara on edge, for good reason.  "<See>?  You aren't going to use the Art, are you?"  Nara nodded; while she might have found a way in without it, she had grown impatient, too.  "But aren't you already using it now?  What will that do to you?"
	She looked at Mara and said, "I used two of my powers at once with Metrope, remember?  That worked out."  Nara's look betrayed her, though, and Mara knew she had misgivings.  Still, she also had determination; and no better solution presented itself to either of them.
	So Nara--or Nara's essence, perhaps--stepped back from the pocket of cloud, too.  She took several deep breaths, calming herself.  After a moment, with Mara watching gravely, Nara closed her eyes and put her hand to the amethyst on her tiara.
	Her body had calmed, and so too did her mind calm, both sufficiently to let her access her gift.  Her other senses dulled as she felt the energy given to them pour into her sight.  When she opened her eyes again, she felt, heard, and smelled less than half of her normal standards--but she focused her view on the details of nearly a half-mile forward.
	Unfortunately, her focus did not include the cloud.
	Nara tried focusing back and forth along her heightened view, but never saw anything new--save for some darkness near that cloud.  She stopped for only a moment to think.  She still had options; her powers allowed her to look through the cloud, to still see inside it.  She could do this.  She would do this.  She didn't stop to think about how her past, poor experience of using two powers at once came from this very application, as it required two uses of the Art at once.  She didn't think about how this would layer on a third.
	Or, perhaps, she did; Mara noticed the problem, too--and not by knowledge of her sister, but by how her breathing rate shot up.
	"Nara."  She put her hand, very gently, on her shoulder.  "What are you thinking?"
	"What?  Wait...."  Nara had barely heard her.  She decided to bring her self back to herself--or her self back to her self, which she had separated from herself...perhaps....
	One thing made itself certain to her:  once she became whole again, she wanted to lie down for a while.
	Instead, she asked, "What did you ask?" and panted.  Mara repeated herself, and Nara responded, "I can't see into the cloud.  I don't know why.  So, I'll...have to look <through> the cloud."  She looked down, trying to hide her fear.  "That's using three powers at once, if you remember."
	Mara shook her head.  "I won't let you do that, sister."
	"But it's the only way."
	"No it isn't!"  Mara walked over to the cloud-thing, looking towards the seeress.  "You said you could see through it, right?  Then that means it probably wouldn't help."  Mara shrugged.  "Why don't we just...knock or something?"
	And before Nara could stop her, she did.
	And she fell right through the wall.
	The fortuneteller had never seen it coming.  She shouted her partner's name and came up to the cloud.  Knowing it couldn't get any worse, she did not stop walking before she passed through the cloud as well.  Then it did get worse, as she stumbled on her fallen sibling and fell on top of her at an angle, her head hitting the cloud with a <poomph>.  She looked to her side at Mara; seeing her staring straight forward, Nara stared too.
	"Mother?" Mara blurted.
	Actually neither sister had seen their mother at an age they could remember, Mara just a year older than Nara, a child born during her mother's death; anticipation more than recognition prompted Mara.  But both felt strong kinship with this woman.  The sisters had long, purple hair, and this woman shared Mara's curls; though it shone with a brown color, Mara's did too, somehow only gleaming purple in the light.  A blue, woolly gown, long enough to cover her feet and very loose--one designed for comfort--hung about her small frame.  Her skin possessed another strong tan, if not as strong as the sisters', who lived in a desert.  They recognized the least about her face--it did not resemble theirs, longer and with smaller eyes--but a sparkle of depth in those eyes felt very familiar.
	Slowly, she rose from a pillow at a table with papers and jewels spread about it.  She took a few steps towards them, her eyes locked on the two.  "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously; she spoke with a light but not airy voice.
	Nara stared up at her a short moment longer, then cleared her throat and picked herself up.  Mara just stared.  Awkwardly, she told the woman her full name; she added, "Supposedly of the Taltos line."
	"Taltos?..."  The woman thought for a moment.  "I...I've done little studying of family history," she said cautiously, "but <both> names sound familiar to me."
	"Oh, good," Nara breathed, her words barely reaching the woman.  She sighed.  "Because we come from...from below.  Our section of the mortal plane.  We came to find our mother.  We never knew her."  She paused; the woman's eyes grew.  "Until now," she added, hoping.
	She started to shake her head.  But then she stopped, her mouth moving.  "Your sister...her name?"
	"Mara," the seeress said, her hand moving to her face as she realized her negligence.
	The woman stopped moving altogether at that.  "Mara...?"  Nara looked at her eagerly.  Mara still stared.  She breathed, not in a sigh.
	"For all my life, I wanted to have a little girl.  Even when I was a little girl myself, I wanted to bring another me into the world.  The older I grew, the less chance I got.  An unmarried woman...didn't get much chance to try to become married back then.  But I did get that chance when I grew older:  I met Edgar.  He loved me, and wanted children just as much as I.  We had a couple of fun years trying...and then it happened."  She pointed to Mara.  "We gave birth to her."
	Mara tried to stand, but failed; she clung to Nara's knees instead.  Her eyes locked with her mother's, and she burst into tears.
	"Oh, thank goodness," Nara said, her voice barely above a whisper.  "I'd started to think you...because we didn't know, when we came here, what we would find...."  She stopped, taking a brief moment to look down at her sniffling sister.  Then she sat, hoping she had composed herself; retrieving her cushion, and as an afterthought two for her daughters, the older woman sat in front of them.
	"So," both said.  Nara laughed nervously as her mother smirked; neither of them knew each the other, and Mara, the only one known by her mother, could not voice herself yet.  She spoke again first.  "I think I must first ask you how you came here.  I--well, <we> don't often get visitors here...unless they're dead, of course.  And you two shouldn't be dead for another decade at the least."
	Nara smiled there.  "No, we're not dead...though we aren't totally safe from dying ahead of our time."  Mara took a moment from her uncontrollable sobbing--which had, at least, grown quiet--to smile and look up at her sister at that.  "I brought our spirits here."
	"You?  But how?"
	This prompt led Nara into a short version of her life story.  She gave her mother everything she had time to give:  her uneventful very early life in Monbaraba; when she first saw a gypsy in the streets, almost right after her toddler days; how she progressed from there, until she could correctly read her father's fortune at eleven; when she and her sister, a developing dancer, went off to Monbaraba to study and perform; and the night The Art awakened within her.  "Since then, Mara and I have lived...peacefully enough in Monbaraba," she lied, purposely leaving some gaps in her story that would need a couple of Gigademons and a Ruler of Evil to fill, at least; she simply felt she had said enough already.  "But then, on a trip of ours, we found an artifact tied into my gift.  Metrope, one of our ancestors, contacted me, and taught me how to use it more effectively.  With it, I brought us here, so we could see our mother."
	By the time Nara had finished speaking, Mara's shaking had stopped, and their mother's incredulous look had grown.  "Are you serious?" she said, after a short silence.  When Nara nodded, she blurted, "By the gods...you mean you, my second baby, developed into this??"
	Nara turned her head to the side a bit.  "Yes," she uttered.
	The older woman shook her head.  "I would never believe I could mother such a child."
	Softly, Nara replied, "You didn't."
	"What Nara means," Mara explained to the inquisitive look that followed, "is probably how she was born."  Gently, finding her voice, she elaborated, telling their mother Nara had always felt uncomfortable about her birth, and how it "caused" her death.
	She grabbed Nara's hand.  "This is what you've thought, Nara?" she asked sadly.
	With a quick look at her, she said, "Yes...uhm...."  She threw her head back.  "I don't even remember your name."
	"Maena," Mara said.
	Both of them turned to her, and Mara looked to them in turn.  "As soon as I saw you, mother, memories like that started coming back to me.  I've always heard how no one can remember their earliest childhood, after a while...and I thought of you as gone forever.  I had to wait for you to agree, to make sure my memories did not deceive me."  She smiled.  "But they didn't.  I'm glad."
	"So am I..." Nara said, smiling; but her face soured as she bitterly lamented, "But I don't have those memories.  I couldn't."
	Maena gingerly smiled and took her daughter's hand.  "Nara, this is not the way for you to feel about this.  You <didn't> take my life.  I gladly gave it for you.  And I'd do so for you, or Mara, again if I could."  Nara said nothing.
	Maena felt, though, that she didn't believe her, so she elaborated.  "They said they could let me give birth, and surely would I die; or, they could open me, and take you out themselves, and both of us <might> die.  I chose the former.  So...so one of us would be sure to live on."  The trusting Nara stared at her, shocked, and Mara smiled; finally, whether Maena lied about this or not, her sister might see it differently.  If so their trip had already profited them both.
	Their mother sighed and settled back.  "But, if I stopped to think about it...I'd have to say giving my life for you was no great sacrifice."  She stopped them before they protested.  "I'm serious, my children.  I am not the determined, talented person either of you are, according to Nara's tale.  I lived a life much different from yours.  Judge not before you hear my story," she concluded, knowing she could tell these good daughters she assassinated her King and have them still worshipping every word she spoke.

	I haven't learned as much about my family history as you two.  I know merely that my family did not live in the city our family lived in.  When my mother gave birth to me, she and my father both lived on Rennock, a city distant from Monbaraba.  It lies just east of Stancia.  Haven't heard of it?  I'm not surprised; the city keeps secrecy as one of its foremost goals.  They think, as do I, that some practices there would not be accepted by the rest of the civilized world.
	As I grew up a middle child with two brothers, I played with both boys and girls.  I usually kept along with my younger brother, an outgoing little boy that often got himself into too much trouble.  I believe he enjoyed it, actually.  And I let him, because I was right there to help him out--most of the time.  My parents said I spoiled him after a time.  I didn't consider it spoiling him, though, because I would sit and read or write while keeping an eye out as he played and fought.  Still, I watched over him until he reached manhood.  Perhaps their words held the truth.
	Back then, as with today, parents always looked for special talents in their children to exploit.  I watched some of my friends' parents take them away at even the first suspicion that they might be a swordsman, or an advisor for the Lord.  My parents never took me away; I think I felt more sadness for that than for the loss of those friends.  Vanity has always been my worst vice, and jealousy goes hand in hand with that.  But I possessed no strong talents--I was neither warrior nor scholar.  Instead, I wrote things, and made poetry my hobby.  Though I learned over time to produce small documents such as fliers, there was little money in being a scribe in my city, or my world.  So my father, a farmer, put me to work under his friend, a merchant.
	When I say merchant, you, coming from an age where swords and shields rule the land, probably think of armories.  Well, in a city of solitude, armor is not needed.  Merchants basically took the roles of craftsmen or grocers.  I helped a grocer bag and shelve his items, and later, when he trusted me with his bookkeeping, took down how much of them he had.  The job was very busy, and I understood why he needed help even in my younger years.  But it was boring, mundane work, and I wanted something better.  I just didn't have the ambition.
	I still had the want, though.  I always wanted...things.  And more importantly, to show off those things, to be recognized for having them.  I was the type that went to any balls, shopped often, and talked more than worked or tried to succeed.  I never saw the point of doing anything for anyone--except for myself, occasionally.  I wrote for myself, and worked for myself so I could live the way I wished.  I'm still that type...but I think I saw the point a little bit, when I had you two.  Now I know for sure.
	I kept up with my job until my fifteenth year; then they tried to marry me away.  It is common in my city for people to marry after or during puberty.  However, even though I saw men at any number of get-togethers, I saw no man I could marry without objection.  The men my family tried to marry to me were even worse.  So, I didn't find a mate...until a visitor came to our town.
	Visitors do not come to Rennock often...actually, almost never.  One could say Rennock reveres the arrival of visitors.  One could also say Rennock welcomes them with less-than-open arms.  Either is right; it is definitely a special occasion.  This visitor came into the gate and our lives in a flashy manner, and I noticed him as I ran an errand that day.
	Edgar had a small but firm build, big, shining eyes...and a nice behind.  Ah, I see that smile--and that smile behind the frown...it's true.  That day he wore travelers' clothes instead of his usual experimentation garb.  That image looks more fitting for him, even if it his personality makes it untrue.
	The few visitors of the past said they came by ship and found this island, uncharted; they wished to either see more of it, since they had found it, or simply learn where to go to get by it.  Not Edgar.  Edgar said he came by balloon, searching for the "Lost Water City of Rennock."  He mumbled something about materials, which I paid no attention to at the time.  I really wanted to know how he got here in a balloon, supposedly lost for so many years!  I read of Esturk and how he stole the "last essential component" for the flying vessels, so when I started talking to him I wanted an explanation.  When I asked Edgar about it, though, he just smiled and said he knew how to get more.
	This didn't change how he fared at our city at first, but it changed how I viewed him and how he would fare here later.  For I began to see him as I went about my frolicking ways and as he stayed with us, and I finally discovered someone who I could live with for a lifetime.  We left the city several weeks later by Wings of Wyvern, as Edgar's balloon had mysteriously turned up missing.
	It isn't to say that Edgar enjoyed how I acted and thought.  He held higher ideals than I, and he tried to change me.  At the same time, I believe, I tried to change him.  Neither of us really succeeded with the other, thankfully; he kept his goals intact, and I mine.  And yet we were always linked by two things:  our love, and our love for children.  I wished for another version of myself.  Edgar wanted someone that would have more success than he.
	In the two of you, it seems we both got our wishes.

	Maena looked at Mara, her vain, glorious dancer, and Nara, her fatalistic, powerful fortuneseeker.  She brushed a hand against their cheeks.  "It seems...we got much more."  The sisters smiled and hugged their mother.  They thanked her, as well, for her story and her words.
	The three visited comfortably for the remainder of the girls' time there away from the mortal coil.  At one point Maena explained to them about heaven, and the odd shape it took on--they certainly never expected it.  She had asked about it herself, and learned that heaven took on many different forms.  The viewer saw what they truly believed would reside in heaven; the form the sisters saw came from their own minds, not from a reality of the place.  Its reality was very subjective.  The other side of the afterlife worked the same way, though it had more of a fetish for bringing out nightmares than any deep beliefs.
	But the majority of the conversation centered on Mara and Nara begging their mother to tell them some stories of her past and, in Mara's case, her past.  She did her best to grant their requests, but they had little time to speak.  Maena told them several stories, but made it a point to tell one specifically that came to mind--when Mara learned to walk.

	Maena lived in a time much less devoted to war.  Peace reigned over most lands, with armories and armies few in number (and only fair in quality) and monsters hiding in dark corners or brought into the light for all to see, depending on their "cuteness."  The public held Slimes, of course, in high acclaim, and little toys sewn with care and filled with sawdust could be bought from many an opportunistic merchant.  While shopping one day, Maena saw such a toy, and though she never saw the point to making light of potentially lethal creatures, she couldn't resist the purchase as she thought of her daughter.  Mara grew fond of the toy and even the creature--as she heard this part of the story, the older daughter's jaw dropped--and often slept sucking the thumb of one arm and hugging the toy with the other.  (As she heard <this> part of the story, the younger's mouth grinned, complimenting Mara's groan.)
	During her pregnancy with Nara, Maena spent time caring for, cuddling and spoiling her daughter, as her second child prevented much of her activity.  On one of these days, Maena finished her knitting and took Mara from her crib for feeding.  As she turned back towards the door, she saw a Slime sitting at the doorway.
	"Oh, dear.  How could I have forgotten to pick...that..." she stuttered as she walked towards the door.  Once she realized she wasn't staring at any toy, the woman nearly screamed.  Instead, she fell to the floor, in a sitting position, her eyes always on the monster sitting in her house, staring at them curiously.  In her eyes, it stared at them hungrily.
	In Mara's eyes, however, it stared at them happily.
	"Simey," she cooed, smiling like a lunatic; Maena never regretted Mara's gift of quickly-learned speech more.  She started stretching out of her mother's arms towards it, but Maena pulled the child close to her body.  Her grip loosened as she felt pain coming from her belly, and consequently hoped to the gods she hadn't hurt her new baby in her fall.
	So Mara worked her way under her mother's arm and started towards the Slime.  She came out on her feet, so she stayed that way.
	Maena started to stop her child again, but it set her back further when Mara started <walking> towards the monster.  It also set her back when the Slime smiled wide, and started bouncing up and down.  Mara laughed and kept going.  Her mother decided to do something to stop her daughter from walking straight into doom's maw, but found her mobility from her position severely limited.  She knew she couldn't reach her in time.
	"Mara!!" she half-shouted, half-moaned as she continued her course unabated.
	Then Edgar arrived at the doorway, and Maena heaved a sigh of relief.  The man scooped the Slime up and looked at its smiling face with raised eyebrows.  "A Slime?  Why, we hardly ever see those in town anymore.  Even these generic ones," he stated, basically to himself.  The Slime's eyes bobbed, as much of a nod as Edgar needed.  "Well, off you go...you'll not cause anyone danger."  He set the Slime on the ground a few yards from his house.  It turned back at him with its tongue stuck out, and he chuckled as he came in the house, nearly bumping into his daughter.
	He looked down at her.  "Mara?" he said, flabbergasted.
	"Daaa," she cooed, giggling.  Edgar looked at his mate for some explanation, finding her sitting on the ground with tears of relief and happiness and wonder in her eyes.  He reached down to his child first--marveling at how she reached up for him, staying on her feet--and then his wife, giving Mara to her and bringing them together.
	He looked at Mara and Maena.  "And what did my darling daughter do today?" he asked.
	"How about learning how to walk?" she said, looking down at her pride and joy of only seven months.
	"Incredible," Edgar exclaimed.  Mara giggled.

	Mara punched her sister in the arm.  "And you say I never learn anything quickly," she accused, grinning.
	"Well, you <don't> learn <most> things quickly," Nara parried.
	Mara rolled her head along her shoulders, then nodded decisively.  "Right.  I learn what I want to learn."
	Nara rolled her eyes, then looked at her sister and smiled evilly.  "At least when I learn things I'm not nauseatingly cute while I do it."
	"Oh, stop it," Mara screeched.  The two fell over, laughing.
	Truly all wished for a day and more to visit.  The cheat they played on death felt like a tease to Mara and Nara, and they missed their mother more as Nara's limits on keeping their spirits there drew to an end.  But if they stayed there too long, they would remain there for more reasons than one--or perhaps they would leave for somewhere else entirely.  While Nara seriously wondered how they would be handled if they died by losing their spirits here, but were destined to go...there, Maena would not let this happen to them.  They had too much to live for.
	Mother sat her daughters down once more, knowing she would not see them again until their death.  All three smiled even as they began to tear.  But Maena cleared her throat and said, "Daughters, I cannot tell you how meaningful this visit is to me.  I never knew you during your growth, and that caused me great suffering and pain.  Yet now, through your own success, you have come to me against all odds and let me know you.  I hope you find joy in our meeting, but it cannot surpass my own.
	"So I have something I must say to you before you pass back into the mortals' coil."  She turned to Nara.  "You seem very interested in learning about your family now, my youngest.  And you, Mara, seem inclined to travel, to seek out something interesting.  I ask both of you then to find and go to Rennock.  Our family stood in good, recognizable stead there, and I guarantee you shall find adventure.  You may not accomplish any great deeds of good, but you'll find something to do there nonetheless.
	"Hopefully this will help to prolong our visit...for I fear truly doing so is out of the question.  Your time has run short, Nara."  Solemnly, she nodded.
	Maena looked at her daughters one last time.  "Goodbye, my children," she said, brushing their cheeks.
	She forced them, then, from her life, just as she had abandoned them before.  Yet they knew only this departure...and the pain, and even the pleasure, seemed almost too great to bear.

-Heritage-

	Nara walked through a forest, Metal Babble Sword at her side.  She stalked through an aromatic glade, a stream nearby moving calmly down its course and ferns and trees rustling even at the slight movement of the wind.  She could sense nature both all around her and yet hidden from her; she had seen no animals yet on this expedition.  She glanced about nervously, wondering how she'd stumbled on this hidden, suspicious paradise.
	Without warning something attacked her.  She fell forward as the something stalked toward her.  She rolled over and faced the thing--another of those carnivorous plants, something she hadn't believed in until she saw so many during her journey with Jazz.  She raised her sword but suddenly felt it knocked away in a flourish of vine and flowery smell.  She reared back, astonished.  This one was smart!
	She started to pick up and move, to get away so she could use a spell or at least circle and retrieve her blade.  The plant defeated that, too, rising a vine under her path and then rising another in the path of her dodge.  She tripped and spun forward, but started to turn it into a roll until she landed straight by the thing's maw, kicking up strong-smelling dust.
	It wrapped its vines about her and drug her closer to the mouth.  Nara didn't think she would die, but she knew that mouth told a volume of hurt for her future.  She clenched her teeth, focusing on her counterattack as the fragrant flower engulfed her...
	...and then the thing gassed her.
	She coughed.  <Gas?>  These things never bothered with such trivialities--they were only plants, after all, and had no brains to think of anything but feeding on prey.  Nevertheless, she found herself choking on aromatic gas, a concentrated burst of what she'd kicked up.  She coughed and sputtered, trying to get the smell out of her nose, her mouth, her head, but her efforts gave her no reward.  She gasped once more as darkness surrounded her, the plant getting ready to snuff her out of existence....

	Nara bolted upright, sputtering.  After almost a minute, she could breathe again.  She looked towards her sister and saw her robed and dressed in a brown leather dress--holding a small glass jar.  She swiftly stole the jar away and peered at it.  "What in the--peppermint??  Did you mix this in <anything> before you used it?" Nara grumbled, looking at her sister through squinted eyes.
	"I thought it would help you wake up faster," Mara said, apologetically.
	"It almost put me to sleep for good.  I nearly choked!"
	Mara frowned.  "I'm sorry..." she pouted.  Then she shook her head.  "But you're awake, at least.  It's coming upon noon.  You should get ready!"
	The thought of taking the day off came to Nara's mind as she groggily rose from the bed.  She took another glance at her sister and snarled, "Why aren't you?"
	"I am."  Mara stood and spun around, showing off her fashion sense as she went a long way towards dizzying her sister.
	Even in her confused state, Nara could tell Mara lacked the rehearsal clothes she had worn to work for over five years.  "Ready for what?" she asked.
	Mara blinked.  "For our trip to Rennock today," she said slowly, as if to a little child.
	Finally the cobwebs cleared, and the little sister lifted her hand to her head.  Her elder grinned.  "And I'm the one who gets up late most of the time."
	The sisters awoke earlier than Mara implied, the sun a comfortable distance above the horizon.  It lit the great city of Monbaraba, the world's largest entertainment center.  Once Nara had dressed herself for travel, wearing chain mail beneath purple robe and favorite shawl, the two left a small house in the residential district.  Other cities had homes spread about the town in a haphazard manner, but their economical city grouped them largely in the southwest corner of the city bounds.  Towers defended against enemies and welcomed friends at every corner of the boundaries, however.
	The sisters hiked across town, heading for the eastern port gateway.  They passed the bustle of Monbaraba's morning life:  shoppers raiding the groceries, haggling with them for the best deals; other shops, such as armories and souvenir outposts, preparing to open for their midday business, others like the theater and pubs remaining fairly dormant until the night; people leaving the inn, some in a more coherent state than others.  Monbaraba held a great population of residents and tourists, and it showed it as the sun came up--and moreso when it went down.
	Mara and Nara came to the gateway and showed their tickets to the clerk, who in turn told them to take the tickets to the docks on one of ten chariots.  They boarded one of only two remaining unfilled, Mara grinning at her sister.  Once fully loaded, the chariots drove many miles to the coastline, well-paid guards armed with bow and arrow looking out for any bands of thieves.  The long ride to the coastline, the location of "Monbaraba's" port, had seen several disastrous raids until some of Keeleon's finest marksmen volunteered to stand watch for the kingdom's most profitable city.
	The ride completed, the sisters headed into the docks.  Sailors from true port towns scoffed at the setup here and its almost shantytown appearance; they did it quietly, though, as they appreciated the real city.  A row of four ships floating just beyond four linked booths made up the entirety of the port, simple ropes deterring unwanted visitors.  Clerks stood dutifully at each booth, and Mara and Nara made their way to one of them.  "Where to?" the young man asked cheerfully.
	"Rennock," Mara said, handing over her ticket with Nara's.
	He looked at them quizzically for a moment, then said, "Ah!  You're the Rennock girls, aren't you?"  Mara smirked.  "Wait here."  He scooted off for a moment and talked with an older man behind the "gates".
	Mara looked at Nara, questioning one last time, "And you're sure we shouldn't have taken the balloon?"  Nara rolled her eyes and didn't even grace her with an answer.  They had discussed several times before which method of travel to use.  Mara favored the balloon for several good reasons:  Rennock might perceive them as they did Edgar if they came in a balloon too, and they could find Rennock on their own, getting there slower but at their own pace.  Nara always shot her down, though, with two good reasons:  Alena, not they, owned the balloon...and if they took it to mysterious Rennock, it might never come back.
	The clerk came back then, nodding his accord.  "Yes, you look like the girls we're taking to Rennock today.  Names, please?"  The sisters gave him the information and he nodded again.  "Great!  You must be them, it's true.  Come with me, please."  He started away, and the women followed.
	He took them down the dock to the fourth ship in the row, one obviously much less busy than the rest with no passengers boarding it.  "You're the first to ask for Rennock in quite a long time.  Everyone else seems to think it a myth, or just not care," he explained, as if reading their minds.  "You'll be joined only by our crew."
	"Where is Rennock?  Do you know the way well enough to show us?" Mara asked.
	The clerk chuckled nervously.  "I'm...not sure.  You'll need to ask the crew."  Mara looked with eyebrows raised at Nara; the fortuneteller shrugged, unknowingly.
	The trip, however, proceeded without incident from there.  Mara queried the navigator similarly and he showed them a map of the world.  Circled in a thick line was Rennock, a veritable dot east of Stancia and northeast of Frenor.  Small as it looked, they still couldn't believe they had missed it on their grand journey.  Afterwards, the crew got the ship moving and allowed their passengers to retreat below-decks.  They declined, though, preferring to stay and watch the graceful, mesmerizing waves.
	The trip lasted until just before dusk.  When the call came from the crow's nest, Nara ducked in the hold to wake her sister, who had eventually grown tired of the slow, hypnotizing waves.  She shook her awake silently, and the reflexive dancer had little trouble waking.  "What did I miss?" she asked, curling herself into a sitting position.
	"Nothing important," Nara replied.  "One of the crew asked me about a few things when he got bored, too."
	Mara smiled.  "How surprisingly social."
	Her sister shrugged.  "He just asked why I would want to go somewhere so far away and forgotten.  I couldn't tell him the whole story or I would have had to explain much more.  I just told him I was a magician and part-time fortuneteller and wanted to study Rennock.  To see if it had anything to offer me."
	"Ah, I see."  Mara blinked and asked, "That reminds me--how have you been doing with your new spell?"
	Nara smiled.  The two had waited nearly a month before making their venture to Rennock, mainly for Mara, who did not wish to leave the city again so quickly after their jaunt to the Ceviak Sands.  In the meantime, Nara also worked and kept reacquainting herself with old friends.  However, she also made it a special point to learn Healus, a spell she thought might help them in a foreign land.  It had been difficult to go back to spell learning after nearly a year, but, as Nara told her sister, she found success just in time for the trip.
	In fact, she almost wanted to demonstrate.  Mara had to calm her down.  It raised a question in Mara's mind:  "Is something the matter, Nara?  You're less...closed in than usual."
	Again, she shrugged.  "I guess I'm just excited about the trip."
	"I guess so," Mara replied sarcastically, looking at her sideways and wondering what, if anything, truly troubled her sister.
	They then emerged from the hold and found the city's island very close to the ship.  They could see mainly mountains and little of the city from their position--it looked as if the ship approached from the back--but a fairly tall spire towered over the rocks.  "We'll sail around the eastern side until we get a close distance to the city," the captain explained, "and drop you off there."  He paused for a second.  "Rennock has no outside ports, so we'll have to make a shore landing."  The sisters nodded.  The captain mentally wiped his brow.
	The boat swept along the side of the Rennock's island until it came to rest close the coastline.  Everyone could see more of Rennock now, and the spire fit with the rest of the well-made city--it seemed bigger and better than even Endor, and everything looked white and diligently crafted.  The sisters looked at each other, recognizing the truth in Maena's words.
	Weighing anchor, the ship released one of its lifeboats, manned by the sisters and a crewman.  The trio rowed to the coast, and Nara and Mara departed; thanking the crew of the shuttle, the pair began waking towards Rennock's gate while the ship sailed up and about, drifting away from Rennock and not to return.  The city could provide them with transport according to Maena, and if that failed Mara's Return spell would work better than any ship to bring them home.  Still, the crew watched from afar, with worried faces.
	Nara and Mara speculated on what they would find in Rennock as they hiked over the island to the gate.  "Even the island is healthy, beautiful," Mara said in awe, looking down and around her to find only green grass, the small mountain range--and, of course, the city.  "And Rennock is a palace!  I wonder if there are any beggars here."
	"Everywhere has beggars, Mara," Nara responded, "though I can't imagine actually seeing them here either."
	"If this is any indication," she proclaimed, pointing at the spire, "<everyone> is wealthy."
	"Well," Nara uttered, but dropped it at that.  "Mother said there were scholars here, not warriors.  I wonder if they practice magic?"
	"We have magic in our blood.  Mother never told us she practiced magic, but would we have been able to do it ourselves if we didn't have some help?"
	"Yes," Nara answered simply.  Mara smirked.  "If they practice magic, we would fit right in," she continued.  "We might be able to learn something here."
	"They might have spells we've never even heard of," Mara pondered.
	"This place could hold more knowledge than we ever thought possible...I can't believe they've kept secret for--"
	"Halt!"  Caught in their own reflections, the sisters gasped as their heads snapped towards the new voice.  The speaker was a gigantic man, six and a half feet in height and almost half that in width, almost all of it muscle.  A fine uniform of silvery violet covered him easily, thankfully specially tailored to his needs; unfortunately, the same did not apply to his belt, a radically stretched yet already purposely oversized thing.  The guard carried no weapon that they could see, unless one counted a hand the size of a head.
	The sisters' fears that the island wouldn't house their race were allayed as he spoke, for the monstrous man <did> speak their language and came from their lineage's hometown.  "Who goes there?"
	They looked at each other, and Nara cleared her throat and spoke.  "We are Nara and Mara, entertainers of Monbaraba.  And descendants of the Taltos line."
	The guard looked at them curiously.  "Taltos?" he asked.  The sisters swallowed.  "You hail from Monbaraba?  For what reason?"
	"To learn of our ancestors."
	Again, the guard pondered.  Then he shrugged.  "Follow me," he muttered, and began walking towards the gate.  The sisters mimicked him, much more confused than he, and followed him, wondering if something was amiss...and knowing it as they heard mumbles all around them.
	"What are you doing!?" Mara shouted, alarmed.
	The guard crossed his arms.  "The Region of Rennock does not trust outsiders."
	With that, over twenty-five mages cast the spell of Sleep on the intruders.
	They blinked, then hit the grass quietly.

	From already three knots away, the ship looked on as the spectacle unfolded.  The captain knew exactly what would happen to the sisters as they approached the city.  He might have told them, but he knew their great determination to get to the hidden city; this news would either make no difference to the sisters, he believed, or deter them from a dream.
	He also might have helped the sisters, might have offered them support.  But even now, and even at this distance, the crow's nest could see the constant ward of catapults, archers and mages that protected the city's lone gate--and would have blasted the ship without a second thought upon seeing it advancing towards them.  Even beginning to turn around would sink them now, now that they had slipped these outsiders through.
	The captain kept his ship on course away from Rennock, over the protests of some of his crewmen, his heart aching for the lost souls.

-Combatant-

	Hours later, Mara, the less bombarded of the two, began to have an inkling that she might exist.  When she tried to investigate, though, her consciousness hit some mysterious mental block.  Confused but diligent, she trudged through the gunk until she broke free to the surface and Mara, grudgingly, became awake.
	The dancer groaned and put her hand to her forehead.  She understandably felt as though she had slept for days, but somehow had not rested at all.  She reached with her free hand to pull off her sheet and found it to be different from her own; she only then remembered where she was.  "Rennock," she mouthed.
	Sitting, Mara opened her eyes, having to pry them apart with her fingers.  She expected some broken, rancid cell to captivate her, but instead beheld an actual, livable room.  A shelf stood near the door--a door without bars, or, apparently, a lock--and while the floor didn't exactly shine with brightness, neither did it rot beneath her.  The room had furniture too, a table and chair accompanying the bed she slept in.  She even saw a change of clothes spread out for her on the stand.
	"Where am I?" she asked no one, rising from the bed.  Hearing no answer, she walked to the table and inspected the clothes.  Her captors had provided her with a thick, dual-woven shirt, leather on the outside but silken on the inside, and thinner but short pants designed for movement; they had also left her with her old clothes, she observed.  The new ones looked far from flashy, but actually had more durability as armor than her dress.  <Fighters' clothes,> she mused.  <What would I need with these?>  The woman sat and looked about to find something even more curious:  a staff, leaning on the wall at the corner of the room.  She rose and examined it also and determined not only that she could use it well, but that someone had made the well-crafted, weight-balanced staff with care.
	<It's as if they <want> me to fight.>
	Mara fell back to the edge of the bed and sat for a short while, taking it all in.  She still wondered exactly where she stood in this situation when a <knock> came at her door.  Slowly, her head turned to its direction.  "Nara?" she called, softly, nervously.
	"I am not Nara," an obviously masculine voice called back.
	The dancer considered retrieving the staff and taking a position at the door.  Soon she decided to gauge her standings with this man instead, hoping her magic would get her out of any trouble.  "Come in," she said tersely.
	As soon as the guard entered her room, she knew her staff would have done virtually nothing to him.  This muscle carried considerably more girth than his companion at the gate, easily towering to six and a half or perhaps seven feet.  Regardless of anything else, the Region of Rennock had power, something they had already proven thoroughly.
	"Your meal," the man indicated.  She looked down from his face and saw a bowl of sustenance that looked pitifully small next to the massive man.  She cautiously rose, took the food from him, and sat, the guard making no movement but to give her the food all the while.  Finally, she forced herself to relax and thanked the man for his services, to which he nodded.
	Mara pressed on then, asking, "Do you know of Nara?  Where is she?"
	"Nara has not awoken yet and is in a guest room such as yours," he responded.
	"Guest room?  More like prison, if you won't let us out."  She looked down at her food then, which had the pertinent ingredients of a stew; she wondered about the sauce, though.
	The guard paused for a moment, then offered, "You misunderstand.  You are allowed to leave your room and associate with others.  You are expected to report to places at appointed times.  That is all."
	The woman raised her eyebrows.  This development intrigued her.  Had the guard just told her she could go see her sister <now>, if she wished?  "Then why didn't you explain this to me when you came in?" she asked.  Meanwhile, she took a tentative sip of her stew; it, like the room, and the guard, did not suggest a prison site to her, and she was hungry after her long trip and sleep.
	"All will be explained shortly.  Your first battle is in thirty minutes."  With that, the guard left, pausing only long enough to ensure the choking that had evoked in Mara would not be fatal.

	Some time later, Nara awoke in a similar fashion, knowing a similar amount of non-rest.  She, however, kept the presence of mind to know almost immediately her location.  Remembering this, she fought to wake up quickly.
	"Hmm...."  The woman sat up and focused on her situation, taking everything in.  She too had expected placement in a cell after such a ludicrous capture.  The scene spread before her, including basic furniture, a change of clothes and even a weapon leaning against the corner, teased and challenged her reasoning.  What had happened to her captors?
	Or did her <captors> do this?
	With a cautious look around, she rose and familiarized herself with the room.  After noticing the door, she checked it, found it unlocked; she remembered this, but did not leave immediately.  Instead she turned back to the room and inspected its nooks and crannies for whatever she might find.  Thankfully, she found nothing else--no surprises, like guards, would catch her in this place.
	She felt better when she looked over the clothing--armor, rather--and weapon.  Nara knew the staff would fetch a high price for craft collectors, or serve practical people like herself as a weapon.  "Though I prefer a good sword," she said absently as she raised the weapon for an experimental swing.
	The mere act spurred her on, encouraged her to greater heights--such as escape.  Again with great caution, Nara edged towards the door, one eye on it and the other on the ward.  She put her ear to it, but heard nothing behind it.  Both eyes on the ward, she grasped the knob again and this time opened the door fully.  Nara anticipated any number of attacks from the ward or anywhere else, tensed and ready to parry with the staff or run, but none whatsoever came.  After nearly half a minute, she allowed herself to relax--a bit--and edged her head around the door.
	She found herself staring into a somewhat remarkable hall.  More than a few decorations lined a colored wall, most that she could see weapons or armor that looked to have great strength.  Hung parchments with archaic, large penmanship accompanied several of them, and she felt compelled to read them.  No one roamed the hall; <Why not?> Nara thought.
	Marking it had not changed since she opened the door, Nara edged out of her room and slipped into the hallway.  No one discovered her; nothing seemed to notice her at all.  Baffled, she quietly walked over to one of the swords on display and began to read its story.  Initially the seeress kept her defenses completely heightened, but gradually she slipped into the tale.

	HERE LIES BOORNEN, SWORD OF ORINKORA, CHAMPION OF THE FIFTH CENTURY.  THIS MIGHTY WARRIOR STOOD VICTOR IN FORTY-TWO BATTLES, SEVEN PITCHED, AND YET SLAYED NONE WHO OPPOSED HIM.  BOORNEN'S GRANDEST MOMENT TOOK PLACE DURING ORINKORA'S SEVENTEENTH BATTLE VERSUS CRADAN, SMITHY.  EXHAUSTED CRADAN STOOD REGAINING HIS STRENGTH, LETTING HIS ARMOR DEFLECT ORINKORA'S ATTACKS.  BUT THE WARRIOR BROUGHT MIGHTY BOORNEN BACK, THEN FORWARD IN A SWEEPING ARC THAT CUT THROUGH THE TEMPERED IRON OF CRANAN'S ARMOR AND WROUGHT A POTENT GASH TO HIS THIGH, EARNING ORINKORA THE VICTORY.

	"An impressive story," a man spoke behind her.
	On reflex, Nara brought her own weapon into an arc, sweeping it behind her to whoever had discovered her.  Midway through her action, she thought of looking at her opponent first, but when she saw a shield as she turned, she continued her attack.
	The man crossed his arms in front of him, showing not one but two huge bucklers, one strapped to each wrist.  The staff glanced harmlessly off of them, jolting the attacker more than the target.
	"Woman, you misunderstand!" he said as she backed up a step and raised her staff again.
	Pausing, she lowered the weapon, standing it on the ground and sizing up her opponent.  The man stood tall, around six feet, and kept a full but short beard and mustache but stood out much more for his armor.  The thick full plate left room for breathing and movement, unlike some armors she knew of.  It also gleamed silver, along with the matching shields he wore on his arms and the hilt of the sword he wore on his belt.  "How?" she asked, labeling him an obvious warrior.
	"I am not an enemy of yours, woman."  His arms fell to his sides.  "Not yet, at least."
	"Aren't you a guard?  Where are the rest of you?" she asked suspiciously.
	"Guard?"  His face contorted with confusion then a condescending grin, then calm amusement.  "You must be new here."
	"New?  Here?" she said, more confused than ever before.  "Where is here?"
	"Ah," he said, nodding.  "You must be <very> new here.
	"This is the great Arena of Rennock."

	Indeed, only thirty lonely, fearful minutes passed as Mara thought, ate and waited.  No one came to tell her everything about her captivity; she knew nothing of the place, including its designation of the Arena of Rennock.  She barely even knew she would have to fight in thirty minutes, and she was thankful she did, for she took the time to change into the clothes left for her.  Who would she fight?  Would Rennock tease her with the possibility of escape?  For all she knew, they would ask her to perform a service for the city, then let her go.
	After to her thoughts a couple of minutes, another knock came at her door.  "What is it?" she asked.
	"It is time," the guard responded.
	Mara swallowed hard, grasped her staff and opened the door to the same guard she had spoken with before.  She followed when he motioned for her with one hand, but followed that with several questions.
	"All right.  Now that it is about to happen, would you mind explaining to me what I'll be doing?"
	"You will know soon enough," the guard predictably replied.
	"I would much rather know <now>."  Mara scooted in front of the guard with that remark.
	For the first time, he smiled at her.
	"I recommend a compliant procedure with me until we arrive at the site of your battle.  All shall be explained there."  The tone of voice he said this in made Mara cringe at its harshness, especially as he still smiled.  He continued smiling, too, as he said, "We would want no further drastic measures to be taken for your handling."
	Mara sneered at the guard, but he did not back down, and was no longer smiling.  The woman made an important decision then and decided to play by the guard's, Rennock's rules just a bit longer, trying escape only if they would not tell her what she wished to know.  As she followed along grudgingly, she had no idea the guard could have at any time hit her with a punch that would have likely decapitated her, and almost did.
	Instead, the two walked calmly along the halls, and now the dancer had the presence of mind to admire the displays.  Battle seemed common there because of the setups, and they made her feel a bit less doomed.
	They walked along halls that became less adorned with decorations, then had nothing to show altogether; the suddenly lackluster corridor signified to her their closeness to the battle.  Soon the two came to a huge double door; a small sign in the middle of the door to the left read "Awaiting."
	"Go through those doors," the guard said, "and you shall know your fate."
	"That's...comforting," she muttered as she came to the entrance.  Boldly, she opened wide the doors, awaiting anything that might jump from the other side.  Nothing jumped, but something pink did sit, at the far end of, she believed, an arena.
	Arenas were among the less common structures in the sisters' world.  No country pitted any man against beasts for punishment, entertainment or anything else, and only Endor housed an arena popularly and often used.  Mara had only heard of this arena, not seen it, but the descriptions fit the place presenting itself before her now.  A fine layer of sand made up the ground, not dirt or concrete, although that or anything else might lie under the sand.  The sand spread out in a circle that ended many yards from her point at the door, at least twenty-five.  Mara knew she beheld an arena when she spied, above the sands, stands crawling with people.
	As Mara stood looking, the guard urged her on once more, but she did not listen.  Soon enough, he simply pushed her through, and she almost feel over from the force.  When she turned back, the doors had shut.
	Whipping back again, she advanced, slowly, her staff held before her.  She jumped, shocked, when someone spoke to her loudly even though she could not see them.  "You need not fear anything, Mara of Monbaraba," someone said, her voice booming through the arena.
	"Who are you?"
	"You stand in the Arena of Rennock, fighting grounds of over a thousand combatants.  I am the current Head Judge of the Battles; I and my associates determine when you achieve victory, know defeat, or deserve disqualification."
	"Wait a minute," Mara shouted.  "Do you mean to say I'm here to fight?  Just fight, and only fight?"
	Ignoring her, the judge went on.  "You are here today as a test, Mara.  You do not do battle with any opponent this day, but a Chocho, mascot of the Arena."  The creature sitting at the other end bounced up to meet her, revealing itself.  The waist-height Chocho looked bulbous, small-legged-and-eyed, large-eared and, above all, pink.  "This opponent will not seriously wound you nor be easily wounded.  It shall gauge your strength as a combatant for placement in the future."
	She could not believe this!  She gathered from the tirade that, after her capture, the guards had placed her here, in this arena, to battle out the rest of her days with sword and shield.  Mara was a dancer, a wizard, a wanderer--but not a battler.  Nor did she wish for that description.  But now Rennock wanted to force it upon her.
	Then the Chocho leaped forward, sniffing.
	Mara kept her yelp in check, but not her staff, unable to hold a reflex she had so finely honed during her journey with a fairly similar Staff of Force.  The staff swung forward, powered by considerable strength and a surprised, enraged dancer.
	The Chocho fell back four yards with a chirp, then fell over, its eyes two large "X"s.
	No one spoke for several moments.  Mara did not even breathe hard.
	"The winner, and obviously very experienced battler, Mara of Monbaraba!" the Head Judge proclaimed, her voice revealing shock--and, Mara hoped against but knew she heard, glee.

	Nara came back to a table of the Arms of Rennock bar, the only one in the compound, holding a glass of something that resembled a mix of herbal tea and wine.  Needless to say, the seeress loved the idea of the crossover, and the drink did not disappoint her.  When she returned to her seat and Rory, the man she had met outside her room, she demanded he tell her everything, and he did.
	Rory explained to Nara that the Arena served not as a prison, but a sanctuary, where warriors constantly tested their strength against other warriors, the only opponent the few fighters in the city ever found.  While they received no pay for their efforts, they enjoyed free rooms and food, and they could earn their way to stronger arms.  Eventually a unique weapon or plate would be crafted for accomplished veterans, which usually accompanied a change in opponent rank.
	The Arena got the majority of its competitors from Rennock volunteers in the past; recent times, however, had seen this number dwindle.  "Fewer residents saw the point," Rory cryptically remarked, and Nara got the feeling that something more than apathy had caused this.  Then Nara asked why people were still here, why she had joined them.  The knight then told her that <all> outsiders that Rennock captured without killing participated in the Arena under city mandate, for a reason unknown to all but those who ordered it.  Rory and the sisters joined many outsiders in the Arena.
	"But it's not a bad life by any means," Rory reasoned, drinking his ale.  "My old, peaceful hometown--Frenor, if you know of it--had little need of devoted guards, and I lived as a mercenary.  I had to work hard not just to earn money but to find a way to do so.  And I rarely fought, the reason I picked the most violent line of work in the town.  And here I constantly fight for my mere room and board.  I've missed a few comrades...but overall, my life is better."  He quaffed his ale again and came up to a stern-faced Nara.
	"And we can never leave the entire Arena?" she asked.
	"No," he answered, after a moment.  "We cannot leave the Arena."
	"Then it is prison.  No matter how enjoyable."
	Rory considered this for a moment.  Finally, he uttered, "Perhaps you are correct, Nara."  He sipped his ale once more, a bit subdued.
	Not a full moment had passed before a slim, trim young man joined the pair.  He wore, Nara noticed, a uniform matching that of her original captor--in a much smaller size, of course.  The man looked more clean-cut, his muscles rippling lightly under his purple shirt and pants, his belt not stretched out wildly and oversized, a fine sword strapped to his waist.  He approached the table, but stopped a distance away.  "It is time," he said simply.
	"Time?" Nara looked to Rory.  "Time for what?"
	"For your initial battle," the warrior responded, wistfully.
	The woman swallowed, but her face never changed.  "All right.  Let's go," she uttered resolutely, rising from her seat.  Nodding to Rory, who quietly wished her luck and promised to wait for her, she followed the guard to the battle.

	As she walked along the halls of the complex, Mara felt truly out of place.  She still had little to no answers about the nature of her new abode, and on the tour she had asked to take around it(and, of course, was granted instantly), she intended to learn.
	Rory saw the woman veritably stumble into the tavern, looking fairly confused and gripping a staff tightly.  "Nara?" he called, wondering.  He found the other sister, instead, and reflected on the sight.
	In all of Master Dragon's world--and in transcending worlds--there exists a very rare breed, type of person.  This type resembles normal people in most base ways--appearance, health, primal needs and desires.  But this type holds a way of thinking unlike those normal people have.  This type focuses so incredibly on one thing, one object or action, that over time others are sublimated or eliminated altogether.  This subjugation can at times tear even into a person's makeup, condition, and, if strong enough, wants, mental and physical.  Such a type of man alone would not consider Mara, an obvious woman with visible spirit, physical magnificence, and a cheerful yet faceted disposition, one of the most beautiful creatures in the world to behold; such a type alone could eliminate understanding of that fact, could put it far enough into the back of the mind that it became irrelevant.
	And Rory was one of those types.
	Rory, instead, saw Mara through a fighter's eyes, or through a knight's eyes.  He saw a woman that could, if she trained well enough, do well in a place like the Arena--or become vulnerable and taxing.  He also saw a distinct similarity between she and her sister, so he called out to her.  "Woman?  Joustress?" he said awkwardly, walking up to her.  She looked up at him; no one else did.  He asked, "Good girl, do you know of Nara?  Of Monbaraba?"
	Mara scowled at the man.  "Good girl?"  After a moment's hesitation, she shrugged.  "Well, yes.  I am her sister.  Why do you ask?"
	"I have just met her and taught her the ways of the Arena.  She has gone now--"
	The woman sighed, smiling.  "Good.  Could you do the same for me?  I would really appreciate some answers around here."
	Rory looked at her for a moment; then he smiled, also adhering to the situation.  "Of course.  I nearly asked you if you needed this information as well.  First, however, it might be a good idea for us to exchange names."
	Blushing, Mara introduced herself, Rory following.  They sat down at Rory and Nara's table then, and Rory told her just what he told Nara about the arena:  the Arena, housing Rennock citizens in the past but now mostly outsiders, let warriors test themselves among each other.  Her reaction, however, pleased him more than Nara's, for she took the idea of such a place in stride, focusing less on captivity and more on the adventure.  He also did not consider lightly Mara's choice of drinks:  a glass of common ale.
	He would have felt less pleased, however, if he had guessed she held delusions of escape.  For he knew escape was impossible.
	"Your sister fights her initial battle as we speak," Rory said, after a moment of silence passed between the two.
	"Oh," Mara responded simply.  Then her face brightened a bit.  "Does everyone fight the same opponent for their first fight?"  He nodded, and she giggled in return.  "Nara should have no trouble there."
	"So you have experienced your first combat in the Arena.  How did you fare against the Chocho?"
	Mara veritably snorted.  "The thing sprang at me, sniffing, and I slapped it back on <reflex>.  That was all it took."
	The warrior laughed heartily and declared, "Oh, you're going to do well here!"  He accented his remark with a friendly slap on the back, and she smiled, flattered.  "Is your sister as good as you at battle?"
	She paused for a moment.  "Well, not <quite>," she lied.  Feeling pangs of guilt immediately, she elaborated with, "Not quite as fast, I mean.  We trained on the same journey.  I got speed out of it, but I think she learned more technique."
	"But do you think her victory will be as miraculous as yours?"
	Again, she paused.  She finally decided her victory would outdo her sister's if only because Nara did not attack out of surprise, would not hit anything with reckless abandon.  She felt pain that she had done so then, and some of her emotion showed on her face.  None of this mattered to Rory, though, for Nara entered at that moment.
	"Nara!" Rory greeted cheerfully.  "How did it--"
	"Mara!"
	"Nara!" she shouted back, just as relieved and grateful.  The two raced up to each other and embraced, glad for the other's presence and remaining existence.  Neither said a word.  Neither needed to.
	They spent only a short amount of time in that important contact; they had another friend to attend to.  Rory sat and looked down at his glass and smiled wistfully as they shared the moment.  He remembered when he used to see moments like that, in Frenor.  They happened all too scarcely here.
	Embarrassed, the two sat, and Rory resumed his greetings.  "How did your first battle proceed?"
	Nara smirked, darting a look to her sister.  "My main challenge was believing that was an opponent," she exclaimed, drawing laughs from her companions.  "Then it bit me on the hand," she said, showing her appendage and laughing as she spoke.  Rory and Mara stopped in momentary alarm, but the wound looked more like something a cat would do to furniture than anything serious.  "The pain shocked me back into the fight," she continued, "and I didn't get hit again."
	"Good job," Mara congratulated.
	"Mara dispatched it before the opening clap," Rory added, to her embarrassment.
	Nara looked at her sister for a second.  "You did?" she asked.
	"It was a reflex," she said defensively.
	"But it happened nonetheless," the man commented, smiling.  He looked down at his glass again to discover emptiness.  Accordingly, he excused himself.
	"I see you're enjoying yourself," Nara accused as they were alone.
	"What choice do I have?  You've talked to Rory.  We're stuck here."
	"We're not stuck here--"
	"But we are for <now>.  We should make the best of it until we find a way out of this place."
	Nara grudgingly nodded.  "True enough.  Remember, though:  we will find a way out."
	"<I> know that.  I <hope for> that."
	She nodded again, but smiled.  "Then don't get too attached to this place, and to these people.  We'll be leaving them soon enough," she promised.  Mara had a retort for that ready on her lips, but it went unsaid, as Rory approached.  Instead, she reassured herself of the truth of Nara's beliefs.  The sisters' will during their capture remained strong, and Mara knew that this would, somehow, accomplish their goals.

-Recovery-

	"Ah, there it is," the woman said, her lengthening orange hair, now braided, thumping about her back as she looked out over the horizon towards their destination.  It loomed big and bright on the dark night, torches burning over most of the city and all of the entertainment spots.  She and her companions soared for the population center at a speed that gave her all the exhilaration rush of walking.  "Finally," she added, looking back at the man piloting the balloon.
	"Alena, you know this thing has never gone faster than we would on land," Cristo reminded, nudging his royal helmet to stand pointier atop his head.  "How could you expect more of balloons?"
	"The gas powering this vessel does not afford much in the way of thrust," Brey added.
	The princess rolled her eyes and sneered at once.  "Yes, I know that already...well, except the gas part," she said, her eyebrows raised at the wizard.  "But if it doesn't get us to see Mara and Nara faster, I don't care."
	"And you're so proud of changing your image," Cristo chided, grinning.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
	A moment passed as they neared and looked down on Monbaraba, watching people drifting into the theater and eatery.  "Those sisters must explain a bit to us when we arrive," Cristo commented.
	"Like, why they didn't speak to us even two weeks after their trip?"  Cristo nodded to the woman.
	Brey mumbled something under his breath, then approached the side of the balloon.  "Odd how few people are going into the theater," he observed.  "Did not Mara attract more people to the site the last time we saw this city?"
	The others nodded, thinking.  "Maybe Mara isn't doing as well as she used to?" Alena suggested.  Brey cast suspicious eyebrows her way, then stared back down to the city, obviously believing something else was amiss.
	The three landed in less than an hour's time after that, at which the three rejoiced, considering how far into the night they had traveled.  Hoping the inn would still have vacancies, they landed a good distance away from the town, then entered it.  Brey made his first stop the inn, as he usually did when the group would split up on differing business, while Alena and Cristo went to the theater.  They hoped to learn about how Mara and Nara's journey went; they had only to go to the ticket holder to see this.
	"Hello there!  Two, then?" the man asked, jubilantly as any employee in Monbaraba.
	"Certainly," Cristo replied, matching his cheer.  "We're hoping to see Mara.  How has she been lately?  Good as ever, I suppose," he said, grinning.  His companion nudged him in the ribs, putting on a scowl that Cristo couldn't ascertain as acting or true jealousy.
	The holder put on a surprised look.  "Odd that you haven't heard about that.  Our normal star, Mara, isn't here at the moment.  However, we are presenting some lovely--"
	"She's not here?" Alena asked.
	Shifting a bit, the man said, "To tell you the truth, neither she nor Nara...have been seen for weeks."  He laughed, but it went unnoticed by the two.
	"They're still out there??" the chancellor exclaimed.
	"Something's wrong," Alena growled, her scowl back in full.
	"We've got to get to Brey," Cristo said, and he started for the inn at once, Alena following him.  They realized, though, that they would not find them this night--and, probably, considering the lost sisters' location, for a while afterwards.

	Mara exited the Arena gripping the hand of her latest opponent, congratulating her on her victory.  "You were great," she admitted, not a trace of grudge in her voice.
	The woman, Sesette, smiled.  "Mara, you fight very well," she said.  Her voice, a deeper and lower tone than that of most other females, struck her as odd.  "I'm afraid to say I am surprised."
	"Well, that isn't a side of me that I normally show," Mara admitted.
	"I believe it," Sesette, who had heard nothing of Mara's fighting abilities in the time she spent with her between battles, replied.
	"But I don't fight half as well as you."  Rubbing her staff arm--her former staff arm, as the other carried it now--she added, "I've only seen one other person fight that well bare-handed."
	"Who?" she asked, predictably.
	For an instant, she wondered, then smirked.  "Princess Alena Santeem," she responded.  If the royal woman wanted to hide her fame as a brawler, she would never have gone on such a quest.
	"Interesting," Sesette responded simply.  "I wonder if she uses the point system."
	"The what?"
	"It is a term for my style.  I attack vital weak spots of a body to disable them."
	Mara shuddered at her factual, cold explanation of the method Sesette had used so successfully on her.  The crook of her arm still felt pained, the rest of her arm still numbed.  "It's certainly effective," she acknowledged.
	"The style has uses beyond hurting things.  Give me your shoulder."  Mara cringed for a moment, but she felt better when she saw a smile on her companion's face, a rare thing to appear there.  The dancer stopped walking and waited.
	Sesette stopped too and placed her dangerous hands on Mara's right shoulder, her wounded arm.  She took a moment to shove aside the cumbersome leather of the dress, then set her fingertips there instead.  Mara felt them shifting for an instant, settling around the bone to catch the nerves.  Then, gently, the woman began massaging her shoulder.  Within moments the pain of a bruise worthy of lasting days or more faded away, and the numbness receded almost as quickly.  She withdrew to see the dancer's smiling face.
	"You know your art well," Mara admitted, a bit breathless.  Sesette smiled again--but for only an instant, her face reverting to its stony visage as she reflected on her previous life, as a healer, and how infrequently she used her powers for helping others in the Arena.
	Most of the people there wouldn't even want her services.

	Rory opened the door for his guest and said, "Well, here it is:  my room."
	Nara entered the room with measured dismay.  She walked with no haste whatsoever; one might call it no enthusiasm.  Her sadness compounded as she entered the room.  A few pieces of furniture littered the floor, along with a sword--Rory had none with him--and spare armor.  In other words, it resembled hers greatly.  "I was afraid of this," she muttered under her breath.
	"Hmm?" her companion asked.
	"Nothing," Nara lied, looking about the room more closely.  She spied another ward in the corner of Rory's; his orb, oddly, shone green, not blue.  She sat down at the table, a replica of hers, with her back to the light.  "Now, Rory, why did you want me here?"
	"Nara...you have been here for a month."
	"Please don't remind me," she said in a low voice.
	"In that time you have risen three ranks in the Trials," he summarized.  "You've advanced faster than any, including the people with their legendary equipment displayed outside."
	Nara looked at him from the darkness, her eyes similarly gray.  "Your point?" she prompted, sourly.
	The man cleared his throat.  "Well, because of that, er...."
	Suddenly, her eyebrow raised.  "Yes?" she asked, suddenly suspicious--and curious.
	"Ah heh.  Because of that..." Rory awkwardly continued.  He looked at Nara then and saw wide eyes, eyes befitting a smile, one of Nara's healthiest and now rarest traits.  He smiled.
	"Our next battle pits us against each other, and I thought we might get in some practice."
	Nara's eyes went dark.
	"Is something amiss?" he wondered.
	The fortuneteller decided to put some deep thought into her reply before she spoke or moved.  She would have loved to oblige Rory's wish and rush him, working out her anger and fear on the apparently emotionless warrior as she exercised it in the Arena.  But her feelings did not come from him.  He simply epitomized her past month.
	Standing, she chose her words carefully.  "Tell me something, Rory,"  she began, pacing slowly.  Then she stopped.  "How long have you been here?"
	"Around two years.  You do not remember?" he said.
	"No, I remember."  She waved her arms slowly about the room.  "Look around this room, Rory, and tell me what is different about it from when you got here."
	"My awarded sword and armor stand here now," he pronounced, immediately.  The woman's expression did not change.  He thought for a moment.  "Also, the cupboard we can hold foods in is new.  They brought it to us just under a year ago."
	"Anything else?" she asked.
	He shook his head, but a scowl appeared on his face.  "What is the idea behind this?" he asked, in a tone that indicated he already had some beliefs.
	"What changes here?" Nara asked, coming to the point as requested.
	"Our rank as fighters," the warrior answered, calm again.  "You yourself have gained three ranks--"
	"And how has that changed anything?  I fight new people now but it makes no difference to me.  They all appear as any other:  a lifeless, mindless slave," she spat, driving forward, "fighting merely for survival."
	"Nara, your attitude is not shared by any others here.  We like it here," he snapped back.  "Your sister likes it here."
	Mentally, the seeress fell back, slapped across the face with the truth.  Physically, though, she kept her stand.  "I agree that I have not been warped by this hideous place as you and she have.  I don't let myself fall into the trap, into the 'rush of exhilaration' you feel from the pure fight.  I feel nothing in that, and I make sure I do not.
	"I would be proud, but I try not to feel."
	Rory rose.  "I do not wish to sound like one of the guards, but you are stuck here.  There is nothing you can do to leave, and any delusions you have of this I can painfully assure you are brutally false.  I have...seen this for myself."  Nara smirked wickedly, but he took no notice.  "You adhere well enough on the battlefield.  I must suggest you change your attitude.  And I must also ask you to leave, as it is obvious no practice will come of this day."
	Feeling the retort burning inside her, she stopped.  She never lashed out at him, connected with his flesh in combat, or even raised a hand...but by the gods, she wanted to.  Instead, she held herself from the action.
	An idea came into her mind.
	"I agree," she said, in a low, cold tone.
	Rory looked a bit surprised, expecting more harsh argument.  Instead of continuing, however, the woman started for the door.  She did speak, however.  "I'll have to consider your words carefully tonight, Rory.  They make a lot of sense.  I think I will change my attitude, too."
	"Oh?" Rory asked in anticipation, stunned but wondering if she meant their spar could go on after all.
	She almost laughed.  "Yes, but not this quickly," she responded, smiling.  Actually waving at the door, she left him with, "I'll see you tomorrow.
	"And you will see me."

	Barely four days after Mara's first defeat at the hands of Sesette, she ran into another problem:  Grondalk Ironrattle, better known as Gronk.  Gronk, one of the few competitors that did live in Rennock, had little sense of camaraderie and a great sense of battle lust.  The seven-foot, hugely-muscled barbarian rarely lost--he even matched up with the Arena guards--and always fought until unconsciousness when he did; he didn't like to win small, either--the man had killed four times in his seven-year career in the Arena.
	Though death was almost inevitable in a background of constant fighting and therefore tolerated, the judges meted out severe reprimands against a murderer:  he or she could not fight again for one month, and the killer's rank and awarded weaponry dropped back to the first level.  Many felt this punishment inappropriate, as true competitors would retain their skills and regain their rank and armament quickly--possibly leaving the heads of a few lessors in their wake.  The judges considered changing the punishment even as Gronk threw Mara into the far wall; she landed with a crack and gasped sharply, feeling the sharp pang of a broken rib.
	"You are broken and defeated!" Gronk declared, coming closer to the truth than he knew.  Mara felt no better when the beast went on, "You will die this day!"
	Carefully, Mara shifted about, but reconsidered as she felt a deep, tearing pain.  "I yield," she claimed for the second time that week, grimacing as the bone moved even when she spoke.
	Gronk's heavy battleaxe came sweeping in anyhow.
	Mara forced her staff up in a parry, ignoring the repercussions of the following jolt.  Another problem sounded off at that point, as Mara felt and heard her finely-crafted stave start to give way to the awesome axe.
	"I yield!" she shouted, alarmed at his deadly persistence.  The man screamed back at her and chopped down viciously.  Another parry, another crack in the staff.
	"Then stop fighting him!" the Head Judge called, also concerned for the promising young fighter.
	"What!?" a horrified Mara cried, fearing doing that would spell her doom.  Then, however, Gronk's axe made that decision for her, splitting the stave in half as it went through a parry she didn't even know she had made.  She thanked the gods she had done so, but her opponent had rendered her weapon--a weapon that had proven ineffective in damaging the barbarian--useless...and Gronk still came on, even as she again loudly surrendered.  Her reflexes had simply stalled the inevitable.
	She had only one chance.
	Again mighty Gronk swiped downwards, but this time she jumped up and around the man.  The crowd cheered as she finally broke the stalemate Gronk had forced on her.  Mara thought about trying to strike the man for a moment, but once she remembered her staff having no effect, she returned to the idea she had previously chosen.  The dancer backpedaled, mumbling and looking slyly at Gronk.
	"What are you doing!?" he screamed back.  She did not respond, but continued her dance, waving her hands about her as she continued to mumble.  The watchers quieted, then started to mumble themselves, wondering what she was doing--and enjoying the spectacle.
	Furious at the battle's turn--he hadn't even taken any damage!--Gronk flashed forward, brandishing his battleaxe ferociously.  Mara's mumbles took on a darker turn then, but continued...until the culmination of the Blazemore.
	A bright flash of light signaled the sudden appearance of a billowing flame, centered directly over Mara's opponent.  The entire audience rose as one in gasps of alarm and anger as the flame swarmed over Gronk, causing him to scream as his flesh and clothing smoldered.  Thankfully, the fire ended almost as quickly as it began, but Gronk had still suffered massive wounds.  Groaning and coughing, the barbarian fell over, screamed as his charred flesh hit, then laid down, breathing hard.
	However, the shouts of dismay around Mara told her she, too, had suffered massively.  The hard look the Head Judge assaulted her with affirmed it.
	She called for quiet after a fashionable moment.  Several men rushed out with a stretcher to pick up Gronk at the same time; as they lifted him, he screamed again, and they looked back at the wizard with murderous countenances.  She grimaced, looking down.
	"Mara of Monbaraba," the Head Judge called, "your possession of magic is an unexpected development indeed.  Had we known you knew the black arts so effectively, we would not have positioned you in the Arena."
	"You mean...you want me to go?" she asked, unbelieving.
	"No," she sighed, her voice truly pitiful.  "You are too dangerous for that.  However, you are also too dangerous to continue competing in the Arena.  We will have to kill you."

	"Watch her closely," the Head Judge told her underlings, referring to the sullen woman now standing in the Arena.  "She has fraternized with Mara often, and her ties to her are not small.  These ties could include magic."
	"Should we tell her?" one of them asked of the authority.
	She looked out on the Arena, trying to get a glimpse of the seeress.  Nara stood on one side of the battlefield, far away from Rory, who walked away from her now.  Neither looked to have good spirits; why tell Nara about her sister's imprisonment now?  Then again, why tell her when she had good spirits?  "Not now," she finally voiced, wondering if the time would indeed occur before Mara's execution.
	Afterwards, the appropriate opening ceremonies took place; though Rory rose to the occasion in his usual manner, Nara didn't even move, not even making the minimal effort at appearance she usually did.  She simply stood there, the sword she had received quickly after her first battle to her side.  She determinably walked to the center of the Arena to stand close to Rory; once the opening bell rang, she did look alert--but her sword had not come up.
	Rory paced her for a moment, then rushed forward, his sword angling for the forearm holding her sword.
	It sliced in deep, grating the bone.  Nara flinched.
	"What!?" Rory gasped, backing off easily a yard or more.  He looked at her in accusation.  "You let me do that!"  She did not disagree, did not say or do anything.
	Again Rory advanced, in a more sudden manner this time, angling for her upper arm this time.  Nara flinched again before the hit, her reflexes crying out for her to dodge, but she kept them in check.  She had dealt with pain before; she dealt with it again as the warrior's sword cut through at least half of Nara's biceps.
	This time Rory did not back off so far.  "Nara," he growled, his face twisted in hate.  "This is the <Arena>.  You are supposed to fight!"
	"Exactly," she whispered, not stifling the word in time.
	By now the boos raged on in the stands, as those observing the match came quickly to the same conclusion.  The rules of the Arena included that, above all else, one must fight until the conclusion of the battle.  Nara wasn't playing by the rules; the game wasn't fun anymore.
	She knew this and tried hard not to smile.  The blood flowing freely from her arm helped.
	Rory growled again, then went into an all out rage.  Nara prepared herself, a notion that saved her life; for while she would not give any battle to Rory, she also did not wish to receive any fatal wounds.  And Rory's anger caused him to dish out plenty of candidates for that award.  Each time, Nara had to move just so; she wanted to get hit, but did not want to die.
	She almost felt relieved as she crumpled to the floor, her shoulder shattered beneath the flat-end of Rory's blade.  Her legs also wounded, she could no longer summon the energy she needed to stand.  Alarmed as she breathed hard on the floor, she wondered if she had let the man injure her too much.  Then, as she twitched and the threads connecting her arm to her body ripped apart, she knew she had.
	Finally the man's rage died down, and he looked down at Nara with words, not sword, flying.  "Why won't you fight back!?" he screamed, disgust in his eyes and heart for the coward below him.  He stared at the woman angrily for a moment.
	Then his anger left him altogether, and he saw the folly of his actions.
	"Nara...I'm sorry," he breathed, kneeling down by her and blinking.  "What have I done?"  She took a moment to look at him, trying to say something, but the words tangled with the blood in her throat.
	Pandemonium reigned at the sight of Rory's turn in the battle.  The fans jumped up, pointing, shouting, and many turned to leave, most going immediately to complaint registration.  Those who didn't quickly became violent.
	The judges, too, mumbled in a clamor.  They did not know what to think after that battle.  Finally, one approached the Head Judge, who stood tensely, her hands pushing down the desk, and looked at the two.  "Who is the victor?" the man asked.
	She whipped around to him, a scowl on her face.  "Neither," she proclaimed darkly.
	The doctors that had carried Gronk from the field earlier that day attempted to do the same for Nara, Rory lamenting over her as they did.  The most experienced of the team, however, shook his head when he saw her.  "There is now little we can do," he announced, to the dismay of all on the field.
	Then they heard Nara mumbling.
	"Oh, no," one of the nurses uttered; the entire team veritably dropped the stretcher and retreated alongside Rory, frightened and disgusted.  The Head Judge's look drew towards the sight, and she nodded coldly.
	"I knew it."
	Nara's Healall took effect even as she spoke the words.

	Roughly, another of the Arena's guards, this one large but not overstuffed, shoved Nara into a cell commonly forgotten beneath the recognized floors of the complex.  Another occupant gasped in alarm as she hit the floor.
	"In you go," he chided, laughing.  "Out, you'll come...eventually."  Nara hardly listened as the two sisters stared at each other.
	"Nara!"
	"Mara, you're in here?"  She sat up and looked intently at her.  "Did you use magic too?"
	The dancer looked down, ashamed.  "The man would have killed me if I had not."
	"Rory almost killed me," the seeress responded.
	"Rory??" Mara asked incredulously.
	"Excuse me?"  The two turned to the source of the new voice, the guard.  "Shut up!!" he continued, accenting the point with a swift kick to Nara's jaw.  She flew back a foot and landed back on the ground.  Mara gasped again, then cast a glare the guard's way, which he promptly laughed at.
	"You two forget that you are prisoners here.  You shouldn't," he added, pointing out the shackles around Mara's arms, which prevented her from casting.  "That reminds me.  You get some of those as well," he told Nara.  Before she could stand, he grabbed her by the hands, hoisted her to the wall and chained them.  She looked at him in shock.  "Easy enough," he concluded, wiping his hands.
	"When we get out of here--and we will get out of here," she commented, looking at her sister supportively, "--we'll come for you first."
	"And then I'll kill you immediately," he promised in a low voice.  The two fell silent; he nodded, laughed again, and left, slamming the door loudly behind him.
	In the noise's wake, Nara turned to her cellmate and said, "How will we get out of here, exactly?"
	Mara shrugged uneasily.  "It would have been easy if he'd just left you unchained," she lamented.
	"I could have unshackled you and you would have brought the house down on their heads."  Mara nodded; neither held any love for the Arena now.
	The dancer started then.  "<Rory> almost killed you?"
	She nodded.  "I let him.  I was that tired of the fighting."
	"I should have been," Mara growled.
	Nara smiled a bit and said, "You couldn't have known this would happen."
	"I could have guessed."  Silently, both nodded.
	"But we <will> get out of here.  Now that they know our secret, there is nothing to hold back."
	Mara agreed, adding, "It's only a matter of time and place...."

	For the second time in the week, Alena looked down the horizon to see the edge of a city.  This time, though, she had not expected to see the complex; she didn't know, after all, where Rennock would lay.  The spire would guide them now, though, for she spied that and that alone.
	"All right!  That's it, isn't it?" she asked of the man with them in the balloon.
	"Y-y...yes," the quivering sailor acknowledged.
	"Then we should arrive at our destination in a matter of ten hours," Brey determined.
	"Ten hours!  Here we come, girls!" Alena vowed.  Meanwhile, the sailor sat, shivering.  He hated how cold this vehicle got in the high altitudes, and how even years of the high seas had not protected him from airsickness.  In fact, he hated the entire journey; but someone had to lead the three companions to the lost city.  Unfortunately for him, his comrades had selected him.
	"Remember now--when we get to Rennock, you'll be coming with us," Cristo reminded the young man.
	"Yes, you told me when we left," he sighed.  "The balloon is yours."  Unfortunately for him, his comrades had selected him.

	Sesette walked smoothly into the Arms of Rennock, sitting down at a table she, Mara, Nara and Rory frequented as her neck-length, brown, curly hair fluffed about her.  Most of the time the purely contained fighter held a mood as inconspicuous and sullen as her body, which stood out for neither atrocities nor beauties and which she wrapped in a stringy but long and complete brown dress.  The woman showed little excitement over basically any event.  Today, however, enthusiasm picked up the step of her long, tightly-muscled legs.  Pointless as it seemed, she wanted to hear how the battle between Nara and Rory had played out, especially when she reflected on her battle with Mara.  Theirs had been long, difficult, and, as the two had shared friendship and competition beforehand, entertaining.  She eagerly awaited Rory's story.
	The man came in more sullenly than she usually did, however, and she realized the battle had not been entertaining.  "Rory?"  Sesette stood and went to him, a questioning look coming over her.  "What happened?"
	He looked down at her, pained.  "A lot of things."  The two sat, and the warrior told Sesette about the battle--from his inexcusable rage to Nara's secret and capture.
	Sesette fell into a genuine concern she had not felt in years.  "Mara has not arrived yet, either.  Could she, too...?"
	"I would not doubt it," Rory admitted sadly.
	She looked away, pondering.  Then she turned back abruptly and proclaimed, "We have to get them out."
	"What?  <We?>" Rory asked.  "Nara would never want my help now."
	"If we don't rescue them now, we will never see them again.  You know what happens to anyone that uses magic."
	Rory blinked.  "No, actually.  They go to the dungeon, apparently..."
	She blinked in return.  Then she nodded knowingly.  "You were not here the last time a magician was uncovered.  They kill them, Rory.  Claiming they are too dangerous to stay here any longer."
	"What??"  Rory lost his depression immediately.  "We must save them!"  Sesette nodded again, smiling.
	Then, as they began to plan their rescue, an explosion rumbled dully beneath them.  The pair looked at each other, startled, when someone else burst into the Arms.
	"Everyone, come quickly!" a guard shouted, supported by a sudden clanging.  "We need everyone in the Arena!
	"The Dragonriders have come!"

-Battle-

	Mara raised her arms out wide as she launched her third Firevolt into the Arena, torching the guards charging her and sending them screaming to the floor.  Unlike the family of Blaze spells Mara had come to embrace, fireball spells took more power and energy to cast--and produced gouts of flame all too real.  The entire hall behind them still burned, the fire spreading over building and decor alike behind Nara, who stalked ahead with increasing speed but her eyes to the rear.
	"Are you feeling well now?" Mara asked in a concerned tone as one of the guards let out a screeching death cry.  Realizing the irony, Nara smirked as she nodded.
	She had reason to still be tired, however, as well as bruised.  The guards hadn't just let them out, after all, and the Region of Rennock knew its work in the area of containment.  The girls had gone through a rigorous, thorough search that stopped just feet from their shackles, chains of metal no human could break.  Most every man or woman in the world would not have had the tools for escape.  Nara's Art, however, had often proven a very useful tool.  The effort of separating the lock's mechanism left her drained and slumped over, and her chains strained on her wrists as Mara frantically picked the lock of her other shackle to free her younger sibling.  Still, Nara looked and felt better after only a short time on Mara's shoulder (and behind her Firevolts, not to mention an opening Explodet that had rocked the very foundations of the Arena).  She dearly hoped the Art would forgive her similarly in later situations, where her adrenaline might run not quite so high.
	More guards ran up to meet them, and Mara prepared to incinerate them as well.  Then they stopped, turned, then fled.  Mara thought her reputation had already rounded the complex until she heard the alarms ringing down the hall.
	"Are those for us?" the wizard wondered aloud.
	"Not likely.  The guards ran," Nara pointed out.
	"Then what else is threatening the Arena?"
	The fortuneteller looked ahead and saw nothing but a clear hall.  "Let's found out."  The two ran forward.
	As they rounded a corner, the sisters saw a great hole in the wall, with warriors swarming about it...and the light of dusk pouring through it.
	They stopped in shock.
	"Light," Mara, after nearly twenty seconds, whispered breathlessly.
	"It's been so long," Nara added, almost in tears.
	"Look out!!"
	Shocked from their reverie, they looked forward to see the fighters, guards and arena participants alike, forming up defensively.  The sisters began to advance just before they struck forward as one--and pushed backward as one, shoved by an unseen, large force.  The line fell back, then dissolved completely, making way for a Rider.
	Mara and Nara had seen these creatures before.  Dragons of their world came in many shapes and sizes, from the awesome, sleek girth of Master Dragon to the equine, wingless saddle-dragons pilots such as these rode.  The smaller but still impressive dragons were evil, malicious things almost without fail, though, and usually carried riders of the same disposition.  The creature and dark knight would often snap forward in unison, usually devastating single opponents--with the dragon usually disposing of the corpse in its own fashion afterwards.  Now, though, one Rider had broken through; half the line subsequently fell on it, eliminating its threat efficiently.
	"They're good," Mara marveled quietly as the two approached the scorched breach, to get a better look.  They then discovered prowess would not save these warriors.
	Hundreds joined that lone Rider...not all of them tiny, and not all of them grounded.
	The two did not have time to take in everything about the situation and the scene; they had never seen the inside of the city of Rennock before, nor had they seen several great, flying dragons in one place before.  These examples of the species took up the space of a building, yet hovered in midair above the great city, doing nothing but watching as the smaller riders fought.  The red, slimly-shaped, bat-winged beasts looked less powerful than Master Dragon, but the sisters truly did not care.
	"We've got to help," Nara said firmly.
	"This is our chance out of here," Mara reminded her; her tone indicated she wanted little of that, however.
	"It's also our chance to become heroes and truly learn of our mother," Nara reminded back.  Mara needed little convincing.
	Both made their ways through the battlers to find a higher vantage point--one obstructed by neither fighters nor enemies--and ended up combing the side of the great Arena.  Sand-colored blocks of a material they knew nothing of comprised the outside of the place, even if wood did seem to make up the inside.  As they walked along the grassy hill, they quickly found a slope that allowed them an appropriately sickening view of the throngs advancing on them.  They nodded to each other and began.
	A scant moment later, whipping tornadoes and screaming firebolts flew from above, with more on the way.
	The Dragonriders had come from the sky, riding atop the dragons for the most part, and landed in the middle of the city.  The Arena laid close to that location, luckily for Rennock; for as the survivors would later find out, the Arena was actually meant for this exact purpose:  combating the Dragonriders.  Had the enemy come to a different location, they would have damaged much more and taken many more lives.
	Quickly after the alert, the battlers had emerged in full and run for the attackers, but they met incredible resistance and fell back.  This worked to their advantage, for the Riders, instead of looting and persuading the defenders to advance into their doom, charged back.  The battle had come to an equal but grisly footing, as many combatants on both sides lost their lives in the short time it took the Sisters of Monbaraba to arrive.  The tides turned quickly upon that, however.
	As the throng continued its blind charge into the Arena, the battle-hungry commanders above them did nothing to redirect it, but they did notice the magic before the Riders did.  They tried to communicate this to them, but did so too late.  The fires and winds took the side of the charge in full force, dropping and wounding many of the numbers quickly.  The second barrage removed the retaliation force and any hope they had of countering the magic.
	Instead, the four sky dragons did.
	As Nara prepared another Infermost, she spied something from above.  She thanked everything she could think of for her eyes that day, as the motion of the fliers was slight and the light obscured them further.  Still, she saw their intake of air and knew what would come next.  Her mind switched from the offensive to the defensive immediately.
	Spouts of flame easily doubling the power of any Mara had ever thrown flew from the mouths of the sky dragons, leading the Riders to cheer...until they saw the flames fizzle to less than half their size and intensity under the fists of light of Nara's Barrier spell.  Afterward, all of them booed...and nearly fifty of the force charged for them in rage.
	Of course, the sisters saw it differently.
	"I thought you had a Barrier up!?" Mara paused to shout as she repeatedly flung her flaming mane to the ground.
	"I did!" Nara responded, patting out what remained of the shoulder of her leather dress.  "That's why we're not dead!"
	"Well I <feel> pretty dead!"  The dancer pointedly looked at her face to charred face as she said this.  She hadn't realized Nara had gotten worse treatment, that the flame had hit higher on her.  Afterwards, she stopped whining and began Explodeting, aiming for the missilers, as Nara began a spell of her own.
	The sky dragons had started for the wizards, again inhaling for another burst, but an Explodet spell placed directly over the lead flyer's wing left them all breathless.  The dragon screeched in pain and started angling downwards; meanwhile, Nara's Healus spell completed.
	Unlike most offensive spells, where the power level of the spell cast showed visible as well as effect changes compared to other spells in the family, Heal spells never changed.  The blue glow that washed over the companions never wavered, never increased.  The gleam's seeking of damaged areas never sped, never intensified.  It always glowed, always sought damage to mend; the damage mended, and that alone, changed with the spell.  And Healus, fairly powerful even when cast on one, mended a great deal of damage over the two of them together.
	Mara blinked, feeling an unmarred face in the action, then turned to her sister and saw a similar effect on her smiling visage.  "That is very convenient," she remarked, grinning.
	When she turned back, their grins subsided.  The fliers had been deterred for only a short time and now repeated their attack.  Meanwhile, the Riders also began to come on, rider and ride alike slavering for blood.  Immediately, the sisters began quick attack spells, hoping to stop some of the riders before the flames fanned them again but knowing their efforts would soon prove futile.
	Again, the flames came on, thankfully just after Infermore and Firebane flew towards the riders.  Mara and Nara shielded themselves with only their arms, but their morale suffered none as they heard another flying dragon's screech.
	When they could look again, they saw that more had started to attack the wounded flier.  Crossbow bolts and even long points of light--they resembled Icebolt, but the sisters could not ascertain that in Rennock--flew at the dragon, and if the damage did not do the trick, the pain alone brought the dragon down.  As it angled towards the ground the sisters saw it, too, held a rider(one a bit smaller than the dragon's head), this one currently cursing the dragon and moreso the townspeople that would soon disembowel the both of them.
	The fliers turned; the sisters rejoiced wiped their brows.
	Now that they could concentrate on the much less dangerous force of Riders, the wizards went on the attack with renewed vigor, aiming their highest-level spells at the band.  Explosions flared and winds whipped about the dragons repeatedly, casting riders from mounts and knocking many to the ground, most missing limbs.  Still, a significant force remained to combat the two, at least eight, and they grew worried as they started more spells that would not clear them out.
	Just as an opponent bore down on Mara, sword down and fangs up, an axe flashed in its path, tearing the blade downward and stopping the dragon in its tracks.
	Mara looked up at her savior in shock.  "Gronk!?" she shouted, totally stunned; he heard nothing, however, as he went to work destroying the Rider.
	"Mara!  Nara!"  They turned to see Rory and Sesette charging up behind the barbarian, stained with blood but mostly on their sword, hands and staff, as Sesette oddly carried one.  "Thank goodness you've escaped!"
	"I hoped we would find you!" Nara called back, rushing towards them with Mara.  "Where have you been?"
	"There were more on the other side of the Arena, but about twenty of us easily defeated them--they weren't nearly as many as this," Rory said, pointing towards the still-large mass.  At that point, he pulled a second sword from his back and offered it to Nara as Sesette passed her staff over to Mara.  The sisters grinned.
	"How did you get out?" Sesette asked.
	"Long story," Mara responded, smiling at her.
	They spent a silent instant together, friends reunited, before Gronk's cry of victory ended the moment.  The remaining Riders hesitated for a moment, then flew towards him, even without wings.  He met them all in pride, but the four knew he would not live through ten-to-one odds.  Eagerly, they rushed to improve them.
	The team of five--truly, a team of four and Gronk--made a significant difference in the melee combat after dispatching with their immediate threat.  The flow actually shifted forwards, taking the scores of battlers away from the main walls.  The Dragonriders, to the surprise of all, were losing.
	Meanwhile, crossbow bolts and magic had brought down another flier, but alone these weapons needed time--too much time.  The dragons streamed fire below them constantly, immolating archer and mage alike and reducing the opposition quickly.  Eventually the fire ceased enough for one of the dragons to turn from that battle and soar into the melee below.
	As Mara backstaffed her way to the bone-crushing defeat of another Rider, she turned and saw the doom approach.  "Flier!" she called, her eyes wide; many turned with her and shared her alarm.  The line broke in all directions to make way for the charging form, but not all fled in time on either side.  It swept through and killed many a Rider and warrior.
	Then it began to turn back.
	"Nara!" her sibling called, seeking her in the crowd.  She wanted her to stand beside her as she began a magical barrage, but Nara had the better idea when she began to cast another magical Barrier upon the entire group.  The spell lit the field just in time, this time, as the dragon's next pass began with its rider directing it to spew flame below it.  The destruction remained incredible, but the flame wrought less than intended.
	Mara called out for her sister again, just before starting an Explodet.  She went through the long chants undisturbed, as most of the other groundlings kept busier fleeing for their lives, until her sister reached her, also chanting.  In the back of her mind, Mara recognized Nara had just begun her spell.  It made little difference to her as she channeled the explosive power of her completed spell directly into the dragon's face.
	The creature howled in pain, joined by the rider, who desperately clung to the carrier strapped to the being's back.  Even as it screamed, however, it felt a magic working over it unlike these bursts of fury.  The impressive beast steeled and alerted its nerves, holding back the Sleep spell Nara had washed over it and feeling the pain of the spell moreso for it.
	In rage, it turned on its attacker.  Quicker than ever before, the dragon breathed in and out, exhaling a massive, screaming fireball at the one who had used the crafty magic.  Already seeing her guard decimated, Nara could only hold her arms in front of her and scream.
	Her scream was subsequently joined by Gronk's.
	Nara opened her eyes and looked at the man in shock when she realized he had again blocked the mortal blow.  His visage almost frightened her.  The barbarian stood covered in the flames--his arms spread wide.  "I love the paaaaiin!!!" he declared, catching the attention of all those who did not eye him before.  The flames subsided, and Gronk, scorched as badly as just hours ago, looked as healthy as ever.  Immediately he charged and leapt, latching onto the dragon's mutilated head and mutilating it more.
	For a moment, the wizards considered aiming more spells at the dragon.  For a moment, Nara also considered healing the valiant warrior.  They decided against it, however, as either option would only interrupt Gronk's mounting berserker rage.  They turned back appalled to the finally reforming battle on the ground.

	"I said speed this thing up!" Alena commanded again, looking nervously from balloon to battlefield.
	"I won't say it again," Cristo muttered.
	"Say <what> again?" she queried, glaring.
	"Nothing," he muttered back.
	"He is avoiding telling you once more that the balloon cannot increase speed."  Brey paused and looked on; he saw one of the dragons falling from the sky and began to have hope, but knew it meant nothing for his own crew.  "Another point to consider, Alena:  what will we do once we get there?"
	She looked at him as if he'd gone insane.  "Help them!" she almost cried out.
	"How?"
	She started to explain this, but realized she had no plans to this end.  When she started to think of them, she recognized she really had no plans.  Suddenly the picture of their dramatic entrance fell apart.
	"Or has it?" she asked, unaware she said it aloud.
	"What?" Cristo asked back, curious.  She smiled.
	"Cristo, where are the Wyvern wings?"

	Rory and Sesette had formed up back-to-back, advancing carefully through the enemies and subsequently defeating them.  Rory often protected his companion, however, for he by far held more defenses.  More than once he would dispatch a Rider and find Sesette in trouble with her own, then deflect a blow with one of his bucklers that turned the fight towards the martial artist's favor.  They cleared more enemy forces together than any of their single comrades, and the forces began to recognize it eventually, aiming for the two.
	The dragon shook off Gronk then, and the barbarian tumbled to the ground but instantly arose and found a more accessible opponent.  That left the dragon free to begin thrashing about wildly for anything in its path.  The rider leaned over, however, and appeared to whisper to his mount; the beast slowly turned about and breathed as the rider grinned.
	"Turn!" he commanded quickly after, seeing a thrown spell.  The dragon narrowly avoided the fires of Mara, then wheeled back a bit, aiming towards that direction.  Meanwhile, the rider took out a bit of salve and began rubbing it across the dragon's eyes.
	Diving away from another blast of heat, Mara looked towards the dragon and the second opponent, her eyes burning with fires of her own.  "Let's even things up a bit," she muttered, setting down her staff.  She started chanting again, her voice lowered, her arms crossed on her chest, and her eyes closed.  Close to her now and sensing this one would be important, Rory sidled in front of her and raised both shields towards the dragon, Sesette darting about them and fending off other attacks.
	From across the battlefield, Nara saw the dancer setting aside the rest of the world; she knew what she would do now.  "Good luck, my sister," she wished her.  She then turned to fight the latest in a line of battles that undoubtedly shortened, but did so interminably slowly.
	Mara's arms flung from her chest to her sides as her chant rose.  Rory took a quick glance back to make sure she remained well, then turned back--then turned again when he realized she was glowing a bright green.  He turned back yet again quickly, though, realizing also the dragon had exhaled another blast their way.  Sesette stared at her friend as well, wondering what would become of her now.  She had never trusted wizards, personally, and she hoped Mara had not let her magic consume her.
	Her hopes were dashed when Mara's form began to change.
	The woman's skin came to match the green luminescence quickly as her body stretched and changed.  The features of her body gave way to scales, horns and claws, the curves yielding to a snakish length of muscle that extended into a tail.  Mara's clothes, the last evidence of her human form, molded into her as her form began expanding.  The growth did not stop until her height increased threefold, the length of her back and tail matching.  Finally, the wizard stopped twitching, stopped growing...stopped being a wizard.  Mara had become a dragon now, one at least as powerful as the fliers and one much more enraged.
	Immediately, she went to work, spying the enemies below her and snapping down at them.  The dragon's maw clamped down over a Rider, snapping both creatures' bodies easily, and threw them to the side.  The hot flow of blood in her mouth and on her throat fueled her more, and she charged screeching in triumph for a crowd of twenty.
	Almost a hundred Riders remained, with seventy of the original hundred and twenty fighters standing.  The fight could have gone on for hours and the additional, flying commanders would have most likely won the city, for Rennock's physical air defenses had exhausted completely, its magical ones down to a trickle.  Without Mara and Nara's magic, the fight might not have lasted as long as it had; without this magic, the town would not have won the battle.
	But a charging dragon can rend morale asunder even faster than its opponents.
	And Rennock's new hope did both exceedingly quickly.  The Riders at first tried to flee, but the spell of BeDragon's power bestowed upon its user a form able to breathe flame, and the new creature bore down on her enemies with a violent blaze leading her way.  The Riders fell to the ground in flames and worked furiously to put themselves out; but their efforts lasted only as long as it took her to reach them, for afterwards they did not move again.
	"Mara!" Nara shouted, above the din of the rampaging dragon.  To Sesette's great relief (Gronk didn't notice, as usual, and Rory was in a state of shock), the dragon answered to the name.  The fortuneteller pointed at the sky dragons, who soared for her even as she ran from them towards the reserves.  The ground monster roared and tore for them, ready to fight.
	One of them breathed its flame at her.  Though she noticed, no one knew it.
	The fliers, along with everyone else, could not believe this, but they had little time to contemplate it before they were forced to defend themselves from the dragon's fangs and claws.  One gave her little battle, as she rent it asunder whether or not her tail batted away the opposing arms; the two, however, proved a fight, and an interesting one to watch for both sides.
	Finally, Rennock's guardians realized they still needed to battle.  They went to work almost reluctantly and met similar opposition, but, on the initiative, most of the humans won their individual skirmishes.
	As Mara's dragon screeched in pain from a clawed hand to the ribs, her own hook finally detached the wing of the unscarred, faster dragon.  It fell to the ground abruptly, and the rider tumbled off.  Seconds later, a tail crushed him, and he gave no more commands.
	Alarmed, the Riders fought frantically, desperately.  This did not help them against the controlled Arena champions, experts in this field and finally showing it in full.  Their moves picked up when they went on the offensive, and they brought the Riders first down to, then under their numbers, while losing less than a fifth of their own.  One hundred and twenty humans had destroyed two hundred Riders, and sixty could easily handle under sixty.  Both sides knew this; both knew the imminent victor.
	Accenting the point, Mara's maw snapped into the final flying dragon's throat.  The flier tried to scream, but couldn't.  Its passenger provided that for it, however.  As she shook the creature to its bloody death, the rider flew off the dragon, crumpling to the ground below at an awkward angle.  When two nearby warriors dared venture for the colossal scene and fell upon him, it was almost an afterthought.
	The dragon searched for additional enemies, but found none.  All the sky dragons had been felled, and all the Riders had been annihilated.  She gave a quiet, smoky sigh and began to glow green; the dragon gave way to Mara, who gave way to exhaustion, falling to her knees on the ground.  The strength to stay away came easily to her as she heard a hundred cheers behind her and thousands more from the city below.
	Nara walked behind her and patted her on the shoulder.  "Good show, Mara," she said needlessly yet all-importantly.  The dancer smiled up at her, her dreams of new adventure truly fulfilled now.
	Then an ear-splitting roar sounded from the heavens.
	The humans began mumbling, Sesette and Rory included.  "Not another one," the cynical woman complained; Rory shielded his eyes and looked skywards.
	His eyes widened.  "No," he denied loudly.  "Far from it!"  His conclusions proved true as the rest of the humans saw the color of the new threat:  black, not red.
	The new creature overmatched its underlings in size as well, though its gawkers knew they almost certainly stared at another dragon.  The massive black beast lowered slowly, never truly advancing on anyone.  After it parted the clouds with gigantic wings, its head appeared; scales covering its face formed a natural helmet, and a disgusting one at that.  Soon came the rider, the most disturbing part of all.
	"Impressive indeed, that you have defeated my forces," the man said in a deep, rumbling shout that reached all the battlefield.  "I doubt, however, that you can defeat me."
	With that, the rider stretched his arm backward, then flung it forward and opened his fist.  The dragon's head matched the movement, its mouth opening with a flaring gust of flame.  The pouring, constant fire came forth much too fast for any to dodge, but the rider chose not a man but the top of the Arena as the target.  The attack instantly set it ablaze.  Cries of alarm went up both in and around the building, and those remaining inside, including the judges and few else, rushed out quickly after.
	"Who are you!?" Rory shouted, still in awe.
	"I command the Dragonriders, and as such should be regarded merely as your worst enemy," he explained, his face stuck in a sneer too far above the humans for them to see.
	"If you must call me something, call my dragon Sha'Sonax...and I, Rhailo."
	Nara looked at the great beast and knew they had no chance against its awesome power.  She knew that for Rennock to survive, the man would have to be reasoned with.  "Rhailo!" she called, cupping her hands about her mouth to match Rory's volume.  "Why do you fight this town??"
	The rider laughed.  "You, as they say, aren't from around here, are you?" he taunted, as city dwellers below putting out fires moved to the large one in the center of the town.
	"The Dragonriders have always been a quiet, clandestine group.  We use our minuscule contacts to the outside world only for secretive recruiting.  Commonly we live amongst ourselves, or we find a quest to undertake that will attract us no attention.  Our similarity to Rennock is not insignificant.  This makes us enemies."
	"If you only fight for something to do, why not join together?" Nara screamed.
	"That is what the other Dragonriders said!"  Rhailo screamed back, rocking she and the rest of the humans back on their heels.  "After the last raid, they had grown weary of the battle!
	"But I have since taken their lead!" he added, indicating himself with his right hand.  "The Rennock residents can tell you that."  Some of the older-looking men and women in the crowd nodded.  "But they shall know what it feels like to win again today!"
	He again stretched his arm backward; the town again cried out in alarm.
	Then a streak in the sky bolted into the rider, and his motion was very interrupted.
	Rhailo rolled over and bounded to his feet.  As the dragon exhaled his fiery blast into the night, lighting it up for all to marvel at and fear, the man looked about the dragon's back to see the attack had no magical origin.  "And who are you?" he said, looking impassive again.
	"No one you need to know," Alena said, holding her claw in a guard position.
	Below the two, Nara looked at the scene far above her.  She realized that Rhailo would not be reasoned with from her shouted talk with him; truly, this city had no hope while he commanded the powerful Sha'Sonax.  She communicated this to Mara, who pondered worriedly with her.
	Then the wizard gasped.  "Nara, you couldn't talk to Rhailo.  But couldn't <you> talk to Sha'Sonax?"
	Nara's mood brightened with Mara's.  "You've given us hope yet!" she exclaimed.  Mara grinned, then watched over her sibling as she began the long process of preparing to use The Art.
	Meanwhile, Rhailo analyzed the woman.  Unlike an obvious fighter, Alena wore her glimmering, long, yellow Dress of Radiance in case of a fight, which she had gotten.  The Fire Claw gave her intentions away, though.  "You look like you want to fight," he concluded, smirking.
	Alena looked over the curious man.  She thought his yellow, longish hair, silvery-blue half-plate and deep blue trousers handsome.  Eyeing the yard-long staff at his belt, however, she wondered just how much of a battle the rider had prepared for.  "And what will you do about it?" she asked, mockingly.  She rushed him quickly afterwards.
	But Rhailo proved neither foolish nor slow.  The quarterstaff flew out and waved aside the Fire claw strapped to Alena's hand, and when she reached him he kicked her back forcefully enough to deter her.  Hanging back, the princess watched in surprise as Rhailo brought the staff back to him and pressed the sides.  Equal lengths of staff shot out from the inside, both a half-yard long.  Another press unsheathed blades, both of these a yard long.  The lance stretched to, in full, twelve feet.  And Rhailo swung it forward with an air of great experience, belting Alena backwards.  Still, she remained on the dragon's back, which covered at least five hundred square feet....
	'Sha'Sonax,' Nara called to the dragon's mind.
	He replied with a mind-splitting growl.
	Nara cringed visibly; Mara clutched her hand, but it did not help.  'Sha'Sonax! Please, listen to me!  I know you can understand me!'
	The dragon's head turned towards the women; Mara's eyes widened.  'And why <should> I?' he asked, his mental voice beastly and oddly rasped.
	"Attack, Sha'Sonax!" Rhailo then commanded, one arm supporting the lance and the other aiming downwards.  The dragon shook from his stupor, the link between he and Nara disregarded, and flew down towards the Arena roaring.  Rhailo latched onto a ridge in the creature's scales, hanging from it as if from a wall.  Alena, however, fell forwards.  Luckily, she caught on to the opposite side of the dragon's neck at the last moment; unluckily, her Wyvern wings fell freely to the ground below.  She cursed as she saw the falling wings, realizing she could have flown off before the accident.
	Mara spied them, too.  "Alena!" she cried, amazed.
	"Alena??" Nara wondered aloud, her weak eyes darting towards Mara's.  The dancer only shrugged.
	The rider swung the lance again, this time downwards and away from the princess...towards a townsman.  Expertly, he decapitated him.  She saw it and grimaced, growling, "Monster!"
	Rhailo turned back towards her and grinned.  "Oh yes.  I had forgotten you."  He swept his staff back her way, and she tried to dodge.  Then the dragon slammed into the wall, and her balance flew away, along with a section of her arm.
	Yelping, she pulled back, then peered forward.  The twelve-foot lance stuck straight at her, distancing her further from the man than the dragon's snout.  Turning towards that, she saw him concentrating on the Arena, torching the inside without a care for the battle happening atop it.
	She smiled widely.  "So did Shadownacks."
	"Sha'Sonax!" Rhailo corrected--even as he realized what she was doing.
	Alena dived away from the man, finding footing on the now-still dragon's wide neck.  Skipping, she avoided a lunging strike and hopped almost into the Arena wall.  She looked down to see the dragon's eye ridge--her target.
	Kneeling, she looked the beast in his desk-sized eye, waved with her claw hand, and extended the weapon.
	The fire spewing from Sha'Sonax's mouth faded with a roar of pain, and he reared up, taking parts of the Arena and Alena with him.  The princess did not hold on long, however, and fell to the neck.  As the dragon rose into the air, she held on for her life, knowing falling would forfeit it.
	"No!"  Rhailo growled and struck, narrowly missing a frantically swinging Alena.  Sha'Sonax flailed wildly, too smart to breathe flame but too pained to coordinate himself.  The commander of the Dragonriders cared for his companion--if not anyone else--and knew he must make a tactical retreat.
	"This is not over," he solemnly promised the rest of the village.  His foreboding voice brought the point home to the townspeople, and a unified shudder rippled through them.  "We shall meet again, and you shall not prove the victors against the force I shall bring then."
	Sha'Sonax had risen to hundreds of feet above the ground now and finally seemed to stabilize.  This did not help Alena, however, who still thrashed pitifully, trying to remount the dragon.
	Rhailo looked at her and smiled.  "I had almost forgotten about you again."  With that, he cut forward, severing Alena's hand from her arm in a flourish.
	"Almost."
	Crying out in pain and fear, the princess tumbled below the dragon, who soared away.  The citydwellers scrambled below her, trying to get in a catching position for the heroine.  Gronk, caught in the middle, shouted angrily; his axe lost in the corpse of a Rider, he raised his arm, ready to pummel his way out.
	The massive, blood-soaked appendage slid Alena into his grip, and she landed with a squish.
	Her eyes tightly closed, she blinked to find herself alive and in the arm of a very bloody, battle-and-flame-hardened barbarian.  Confusion came to her before gratitude.  "Who are you?" she asked.  Her brow furrowed when she looked at his visage, one full of the shock and pain only a dislocated shoulder can cause such a man.
	Gronk screamed like a little girl...then recovered, turning his cry into one of victory.  The town cheered with him for its heroes, their pleasure and his pain ringing out equally into the night.

-Transformation-

	And in the space of less than two hours, the lives of the Sisters of Monbaraba and history of Rennock were irrevocably changed.
	When the walls of the Arena broke down, the shackles on Mara, Nara, Rory and Sesette shattered, and Alena, Cristo and Brey arrived, the prisoners' world transformed completely.  The town honored them as heroes, even though all seven of them hailed from the outside world, and they made celebrations on the spot that lasted through the night.  The fact that they decided to sleep before they ended made little difference.
	The Battle of the Outsiders, as Rennock would come to call it, had still taken a toll on the town.  Dozens of humans lay dead, even if their opponents' carcasses outnumbered them greatly.  The Arena finally burst into uncontrollable flame later that night, and the once-hallowed arena laid a smoldering crater in the center of Rennock.  Its hill had been rendered intraversible, and cleanup crews would have quite a job ahead of them.  But all who accessed the damage done agreed Nara, Mara and Alena lessened it extensively, and all who counted the casualties knew Rory and Sesette--not to mention Gronk--prevented many a Rider from adding to them.  Besides, not many did either of these.  Most went to the party.
	"No more," Rory balked, pushing away the glass.
	"I've seen you drink more than that at the Arms," Mara teased, pushing it from across Rory back towards him.
	Sesette smiled at him warmly.  "You're a hero tonight!  You deserve a real celebration."
	"No more," Rory repeated, rubbing his stomach and sitting heavily in his seat.  "I won't feel right...."
	"Will you feel right after losing?" Gronk, sitting next to him, queried pointedly.
	"Bah!  You're not such a hero...."  The accuser paused to hiccup, his glass shaking a bit.  "...after all!"  Making this bold statement, the drunken but standing man finished off his glass, beating Rory out in the contest solidly.
	Afterwards, he held a suddenly bulging mouth, then ran off.
	"What was that??" Rory shouted after him, smiling and still in control of himself.  The crowd around the three laughed loudly, clapping the man on the shoulder a bit roughly for his condition.  One of them also clapped Gronk on the shoulder--the bad shoulder--a bit roughly....
	"How long have you been looking for us?" Nara asked of Alena, Cristo and Brey, all of whom sat at another table far from the main throng.
	"Weeks," Cristo answered lightly, just after a sudden, insignificant scream.
	Alena nodded.  "Well, I wanted to go with in the first place, to see how your trip to the heavens would be."  Nara nodded back; she had already told them everything about the last two months of her life in great detail.  The moon hung high in the night sky, she noted as she looked out the window.  The moon never looked so good.
	"And as after seven days you contacted us not, we began to sense something amiss."
	"Rather, Alena forced us into it after only <six> days, Brey," the chancellor pointed out.
	The tutor nodded towards the princess.  "Yes, I now remember."
	"The trip all the way to Monbaraba was unbearably slow," Alena went on with a fittingly bored tone.  "We finally got there a few days later and discovered you were missing.  From there we tried to find Rennock ourselves."
	"Though we proceeded with much research, we found little but that soldiers often knew the 'legend' of the city," Brey commented.
	"Although we tried with the little we did get.  No such luck."
	"So, we went to the port town and got a sailor to take us to Rennock.  The trip took another while," Alena admitted, "but we couldn't have made it at a better time, right?"
	"I'll say," Nara said, smiling.  "You wouldn't have had that kind of advantage in the fight if you'd come earlier.  Besides...Rennock would have probably brought down the balloon."
	Brey nodded, understanding her logic, and the princess shrugged.  Cristo, however, piped in with, "But Alena's royalty!  They wouldn't--"
	"Sshhh!!" Alena snapped, popping him on the back of the head.
	"What need is there for us to tell that to the bar?" Brey quietly growled.
	Nara's smirk faded a bit.  "Besides, an outsider is an outsider to Rennock, and in that balloon you might not have gotten a chance to say anything in your defense before they caught you."  She paused, then smiled again.  "Or maybe I should say, <was> an outsider?"
	"I think the five of us showed them what outsiders can do," Alena said, grinding a fist into a hand.
	Cristo smiled.  "You mean, the three of you."
	Smiling back at him curiously, Alena asked, "Who brought me here so expertly?"  She turned to the wizard abruptly then, going on, "And, who's Speedup spell got me to Shallowness without him noticing?"
	"Sha'Sonax," Brey corrected, what little skin remained visible behind his beard reddening.
	After Alena, Cristo, Brey and Nara shared a nice talk--and Rory, Sesette, Mara and Gronk shared some nice bedlam--the eight of them all went looking for a place to truly rest.  Gronk knew the layout of his hometown well, and he offered to show them to the Shield of Rennock, a hostel that played off the popularity the Arena held in the olden days to become one of the largest inns in the city.  Though the combatants had no money, the Santeem royalty had come prepared for spending situations with a satchel of gold, a currency accepted anywhere in the world.  They easily paid for the five necessary rooms.  The party finally went to bed at what amounts to two in the morning, though the actual party across town stayed up almost until the dawn.
	As Mara curled up in the new blanket, the new bed, the decorative baubles on the nearby nightstand, and the incomplete darkness of an unlit room, Nara grew pessimistic.  Mara took a moment to make sure her sister still enjoyed herself soon, and she looked to her and asked, "Something wrong?"
	Reluctantly, the seeress nodded, turning to the dancer under the covers of the other bed.  "I'd rather have kept it to myself," she admitted.  "But....What all have we gained here tonight?"
	"How can you say that?" Mara exclaimed.  "We're finally out of the Arena, and surrounded by dear friends old and new."
	"Yes, <we> <have> gained a lot.  A dream.  But I'm talking about Rennock."  Mara's head rolled about her shoulders, indicating neither discord nor concurrence.  "The Dragonriders have gone, but that calm madman Rhailo will lead them back.  I wouldn't put it past him to lead every dragon left.  And if he's telling the truth about his reserves, that could be tens.  Hundreds."
	"How could he be telling the truth?  We saw at least a hundred dragons on our journey against Necrosaro," the wizard stated, alluding to a three-month battle against the Ruler of Evil.  "And hundreds more today.  How many dragons can there be in the world?"
	"I don't know," Nara conceded.  Then she smiled, for the first time in an hour.  "Master Dragon should, though."
	Her sister nodded, smiling.  "We can ask him."
	"Tonight," Nara added.
	"Hah!"  Mara smirked at the notion, but calmed.  "Nara...it's late.  Very late.  The Master may not sleep, but the Zenithians do.  And Sha'Sonax does--especially after a wound like that.  And <we> do, and you should."  Smirking again, she remarked, "You look more exhausted than you sound."
	"You aren't a prize right now yourself," Nara said, sitting up with her hands on her hips.
	The dancer looked at her shocked, her mouth agape.  "<I> am ALWAYS a prize!" she declared, her hand to her heart and her head held high as her younger giggled.  Then she slumped.  "Even when I'm tired as a Bomb Crag."  She smiled and yawned, Nara still giggling.
	"All right," she yielded.  "Tomorrow.  Early tomorrow, we'll go ask Master Dragon."
	"Wait a second.  Couldn't you just talk to him?  With your mind, I mean?"
	Nara's eyebrow went up.  "I <am> tired, Mara," she reminded her.  "Besides, I've never established a link with the Master.
	"However...I still have my link with Sha'Sonax...."

 	"And that's our story," Mara finished.
	Nara glanced around a bit, wondering what not only Master Dragon thought about the news, but the guards remaining in the room.  Unlike some of the other times the Master had audienced with them, this time they did not clear out for them.  Now they, and possibly the rest of the castle, knew of Rennock and the Dragonriders.  Did that pose a threat?  <Nothing to do about it now,> Nara finally decided, dismissing the problem.
	"What do you think?  Could Rhailo have enough forces to come back and destroy the city?"
	Master Dragon pondered, as the sisters watched in a bit of awe.  The two had just come from a battle against four magnificent reds and an incredible black dragon, something they had never seen before, and yet The Master still awed them.  He came to a full twenty-five feet vertically--not on his hind legs, but sitting; they could only guess at his length, which seemed to stretch into the back of the throne room for untold yards.  Master Dragon possessed great, red wings that looked too full and thick to be dragonlike, but did match the reddish orange sheen of his scales.  His head carried two huge, curveless horns of pure white, mounted just above and before a snout containing teeth that no one wanted to think about for too long.  His gentle yet omnipotent eyes, on the other hand, gave him an air of power but showed and implied no evil.  He looked up at them with his answer showing, as always, only the whites of his eyes.
	"The Dragonriders have not been a threat for some time," he informed them.  "Generally, they attacked Rennock alone and went on personal quests only infrequently.  They stopped over a hundred years ago, after the catastrophic results of their last battle with the Region.  However, the Dragonriders are not generally evil.  They keep from others almost at all costs, preferring to make their own kind of adventure.  Rennock alone they seek to eliminate.
	"To answer your question...there are many, many dragons in this world.  More than you or any mortals realize.  In fact, even I have forgotten of Sha'Sonax and the giant dragonkin like him for some time.  They have been quiet for many a year."  He paused, considering.  "Rhailo could indeed hold enough in his command to destroy Rennock once and for all.  And if your attempts to talk to him have failed, and he is as unreasonable as you say...he might then turn on the rest of the world."
	"He never seemed like one to talk to," Mara agreed.  Nara simply shuddered.
	"I will have to investigate this," Master Dragon decided.  "However, a great strike force might be in order.  Please assemble the Chosen Ones, and try to make contact with other armies.  They may not be needed, as Rhailo may cooperate with me.  However, if he will not...even they may not prove enough.  I may be forced to take this into my own hands, as well," Master Dragon announced, making an unusually forceful decision.
	"No," Nara said.  She balked immediately afterwards, realizing who she had contradicted as she would her sister.  "I'm sorry, Master Dragon," she said, actually making an attempt to curtsey.  Mara snickered; the seeress gave her a quick glower of death for her trouble.
	"It's just...there may be a quicker way."

	The pair subsequently left Zenithia, thanking Master Dragon for his help after Nara explained herself.  He thanked them in return, as he felt he had done less for them than they him.  They came back to Rennock by Return spell, as Mara would never forget that place.  After returning to the inn, the two asked Gronk for a place where they could go to obtain a great deal of quiet.  The barbarian, still feeling repercussions from his injury, recommended one of Rennock's smaller and more forgotten libraries and agreed to lead them there.  The sisters' eyes glittered at the mention of more than one library, and Brey smiled, his eyebrows raised.
	"Do you want anyone to go with you?" Sesette asked.
	"Yes, actually," Mara answered.  "I want you to go.  In case she gets hurt."
	"Hurt?"
	"Should I go?" Cristo asked, ever helpful.
	"No," Nara determined, after a moment.  "If I'm going to be hurt, I don't think magic will help."
	"Why?" Alena asked, twirling a bit of her hair curiously.  "What are you going to do?"
	"It's...hard to explain," Nara evaded, not eager to share her curious ability with Gronk and Rory.  She felt a bit reluctant to let Sesette know of it, but the sisters trusted Sesette more than anyone else they had met at Rennock, and the seeress might need her help.  They spoke of little before the girls left, Nara telling the rest of the companions only that she might know a way to prevent the Dragonriders from ever coming back.
	Gronk led the sisters and Sesette out, keeping a somewhat embarrassed and very quiet attitude.  The celebrations had finally died down in the middle of the night, not to begin anew for another hour or so; therefore, they found more order on this tour of the town than the first.  Rennock contained everything--not just everything Mara and Nara had hoped for, but <everything>.  As they had assumed, and their mother told them, Rennock had few war shops but many, many centers of learning.  Museums and libraries existed on almost all of the streets they passed, Gronk explaining that they contained books and artifacts depicting the history of the Region of Rennock, stories speculating on lands far beyond, outlines of disciplines and philosophies and more.  Nara knew these last books included spellbooks, and when Mara asked Gronk the same, he nodded his head to their great pleasure.
	He also added, however, that the Academies elaborated on these.  Indeed, the Region of Rennock prided itself correctly on its Academies.  The large, stone structures housed nearly a hundred mages each, all studying magic but many specializing in differing fields.  For a moment, the siblings forgot their purpose; they felt like kids barred from a candy store.  But when Gronk--Gronk, of all the people there--reminded them of their purpose, they hopped back to their march and soon arrived at a library emblazoned Xenigrooth's Pen.
	This hall of tomes got its name from a myth of a long time ago.  When the Region was just starting to construct a complex of buildings--about when the other peoples of the world were putting down sticks and picking up tools--Xenigrooth, a man crowned for his great age and wisdom, became the centerpiece of the community.  Xenigrooth adored storytellers, and after his subjects had laid the foundations of the civilization, he asked for a great hall of books and scrolls for the center of the land.  After the actual building's completion, however, Xenigrooth could not get enough written stories to put in it without depriving the rest of the land.  He had heard many more than he could find, however, so the old man supposedly set to writing tomes for the rest of his life, letting his advisors rule and going without sleep and food.  He completed a hundred and more before his death; none of the original manuscripts survived, however.  Still, some of his legendary stories existed in Rennock still, so the myth survived.  This library followed Xenigrooth's example and filled itself with fiction; the cultured people of Rennock, however, demanded more, and this library saw fewer people than the city's more complete ones.
	While at the library, the outsiders took the time to find out something Sesette had wondered for a very long time:  how Rennock not only knew the language of the common world, but also seemed to speak it in common life.  They discovered that Rennock's contact with the outsiders had started earlier than they thought--early enough, in fact, for Rennock to recognize the superiority of the common language in time to change.  They had spoken it chiefly since the dawn of Stancia, the seaborne society that had contacted Rennock centuries ago.
	Afterwards, the four retreated to one of many reading rooms, and Gronk quickly exited as the three women sat around a round table.  Nothing decorated the walls; only white colored the room.  Nara nodded at the perfect environment for The Art.
	Sesette's tongue, held during the walk, flipped out, "What are you going to do?"
	"I am going to use an advanced mental technique to contact Sha'Sonax, the black dragon from yesterday's final charge.  I can reach his mind with my thoughts, and I'm going to try to negotiate a truce with him."
	Sesette sat, unblinking.
	"Her technique is like your own art," Mara elaborated, glaring at the seeress for her incomplete explanation.  "You do things with your body, muscles and touch that neither of us could, probably ever.  You have a gift.  Well, Nara has a gift too.  Only...no one...<ever>...could duplicate hers.  She can do things..."  Mara shuddered after that.  She went on, "Well, one of the things she can do is talk to people through their minds, instead of their voice.  That's what she's going to do with Sha'Sonax."
	The martial artist nodded, understanding more of Nara's art but not all of it.  "So what can I do to help?"
	"I've never contacted anyone that I didn't know personally.  I'm not sure what all can happen," Nara admitted.
	"If she gets injured or falls unconscious for some reason, we want you to take care of her and do as much as you can for her," Mara added.
	"A lot of any damage will probably be mental.  But I just want you to doctor me in case something goes wrong."  She smiled, remarking, "I've met no one as good at it as you."
	Smirking, Sesette replied, "You flatter me.  On purpose, no less."  She tossed her ringed locks from her face and answered, "Of course I'll do it.  It was my profession.  And, of course, we are friends."  The three shared a smile.
	After their warm moment, Nara sat still, asking for quiet.  This would not be a normal application of her powers, however; she would not need complete concentration.  She just needed to seek out Sha'Sonax once more, to dive into the link she had established in his mind.  Midway through the act, she decided she could--and would--narrate for her friends.
	"Sha'Sonax," Nara called, as well as said.
	Silence, for a moment.
	'Is this the wizardess from the battle at the Region of Rennock?' the black dragon's raspy thoughts queried ominously.
	Nara pondered for an instant.  How would she narrate this for her friends?  She could far from imitate the dragon's voice.  They started to ask for his reply, as well.
	'Narrate?  You make sport of me?'
	'I want my friends here to know of this,' she replied, currently contradicting herself by saying nothing aloud.  She marked the importance of not thinking too profoundly things she did not want the dragon to hear.
	'Ah.  Touching.  You surround yourself with friends, leaving me at a disadvantage.  You realize I am <not> at a disadvantage.'
	'Of course not.  I never intended that,' Nara finished.  Finally, she gave up, deepened her voice and spoke Sha'Sonax's first question.  Mara giggled; Sesette smirked lightly.  "What was I supposed to do?" she asked them pointedly.  They shrugged.
	"I am the one you speak of, Sha'Sonax," she finally answered.  "I seek parlay with you."
	"Private parlay, without the intervention of my master."
	"Exactly," Nara pointed out.
	Silence for another moment.  "Interesting," the dragon finally decided.  Nara smiled at the victory scored.
	"You realize this is <not> yet a victory."
	She frowned, along with her friends, immediately after she spoke.
	"I think we all recognize that Rhailo, the leader of the Dragonriders, became the leader through you," the seeress acknowledged.  "Why do you follow him?"
	"Rhailo is an ambitious, fearless man.  Others knew of me but would not partner with me, for fear of their lives.  Rhailo was courageous enough to bring me into a leadership position, and for that I believe he should benefit from it as well."
	"But I'm not sure you fully understand this man," Nara cautiously explained.  "Rhailo is ambitious and fearless, true.  But he wants the wrong things.  He wants the destruction of the great city of Rennock."
	"I see nothing wrong with this."
	"Does your belief come from your thoughts, or the rivalry between you and this city?" she asked.  "What do you know of Rennock besides it is a rival of the Dragonriders?"
	Silence.  "Little," the dragon settled on.
	"Rennock has no reason to oppose anyone.  The city holds vast knowledge and culture.  It also seeks only to live with itself.  It does not want to fight the Dragonriders anymore."
	"Oh?  You seemed prepared to.  Your heroine seemed prepared to."  Miles away, Sha'Sonax felt keenly the sting of his wound.
	"Yes, but Rennock seeks to defend, not to attack.  How long has it been since the city attacked the dragons?"
	Again, silence.  "It has been long.  Longer than I have been in the Dragonriders."
	Nara nodded to Mara and Sesette.  "Rhailo's ambition may also lead him past Rennock, should he conquer it.  He could try to take the world.  And with you and he in league," she continued, choosing her words carefully here, "he probably would."
	"I see nothing wrong with world domination," Sha'Sonax declared.
	This time, the seeress paused to think.  She did her best to keep her contemplations private.  Before she had talked to him, Nara had hoped Sha'Sonax might be basically good, and under Rhailo's influence alone in attacking Rennock.  The black dragon's words had just proven otherwise, however.  She would have to fight the verbal good fight; she would have to show Sha'Sonax what was wrong with taking over the world.  Luckily, she had prepared for this.
	"The people of this world are all different, and societies run in different ways," she began.  "Rennock closes itself off from the world, as do the Dragonriders.  Others, such as the great city of Endor to the far south, thrive from trade and blending of cultures.  Others, like my hometown, seek to entertain all cultures without absorbing them.  But one thing, at least, unites us all:  freedom."
	"You are losing my interest."
	"Freedom is in all these cultures, and in all true, great cultures.  It makes everyone's life better--even makes it possible.  People under the rule of a single dictator cannot live in a diverse, desirable manner."
	"What does this matter to me?  I would not be under the rule.  I would be the ruler."
	"Ruling uncooperative human subjects would not prove a challenge," Nara continued, going down one of many tracks she had devised.  "They would show you nothing in the way of entertainment and give you no satisfaction.  Your humans would be pathetic wastes of life."
	"Why would I have human subjects?"
	She blinked; she had not thought of this.  <Idiot!> she screamed to herself.  "Then you mean you would repopulate the world with dragons?"
	"They are far more interesting," he agreed.
	"Rhailo would never let you do that," she pointed out.
	"If not, then pity for Rhailo."  Her heart leapt up to her throat.  Sha'Sonax <would> rebel against Rhailo, given the right circumstances!  This talk <could> mean something!
	"Would you take your armies, dragon and human, to fight for your land, only to lose them in the struggle?"
	"We would not lose many in the struggle."  Nara could tell he felt disturbingly decisive about this.
	"Would those in your armies be dragon, or dragon and human?  Would the Dragonriders and Rhailo take part in your cause??"
	"Of course," Sha'Sonax replied, actually sounding a bit intrigued.
	"Then would this <ever> be your world, Sha'Sonax??" the seeress drove home, gripping the table in her tension.
	Sha'Sonax remained silent for a long while.
	"Not completely, that way," he decided, his tone decisively changed.  Nara smiled.
	She cleared her throat, feeling a bit tired.  "Rhailo's ambitions are not his only fault," she went on.  "His fearlessness and bravery, while good qualities, are all too present.  The overabundance of this transforms into arrogance, a bad quality."
	"This is something Rhailo indeed suffers from," the black dragon acknowledged.
	"Recall the systematic way he fought--and lost--the battle at Rennock.  He started by landing Riders into the center of the town."
	"Launching melee units--fodder--as the initial wave is no poor strategy."
	"Agreed," she agreed.  "But Rhailo did hold off his forces in a systematic, insufficient manner.  He held the sky dragons--"
	"Air raiders," Sha'Sonax informed.
	"Air raiders.  He held the air raiders off until Mara and I appeared, ordering them to attack only when he recognized--"
	"Rhailo did not order the air raiders to attack."
	The woman blinked.  "Oh?"
	"He wanted them to stay back.  Their base instincts, however, and the thirst for combat of the riders overruled Rhailo's command."
	"Then even your own armies can disagree with the man."
	"True," he conceded, making it sound more like a factual statement.
	"Rhailo's strategy can come into question, then, we agree.  What will happen during a war against Rennock, where he commands many of the much more powerful air raiders?  Virtual pandemonium, as happened before?"
	"The air raiders are far superior to the Riders and can succeed in pandemonium where they failed.  You should know this."
	"I know this.  I also know, however, something you do not.  Even as we speak," she lied, "armies amass for the coming of the Dragonriders to Rennock."  The fib was not so great; should this talk not go in her favor, Nara knew she would immediately contact Jazz, then spend a great deal of the next few months in defense of her mother's hometown.  "More wizards like my sister and I shall appear, and more crossbows shall sting the flying dragons.  What if we hold you off?"  Nara wondered, for an instant, if she had phrased that correctly; she decided just as quickly that it did not matter, and the phrase had passed anyhow.  "What if the Dragonriders can't take the battle in one pass?  Does Rhailo have the necessary strategy to let your comrades survive?"
	Again, a slight pause came.  "Possibly not."
	"Is the death that would result from that something you want to see?"
	"No," he said, firmly.
	Nara nodded, looking to her friends tiredly.  She found both Mara and Sesette amazed.  "What?" she asked, curiously.
	"Since when were you such a good speaker?" Mara asked, her eyes almost glittering.  "I've never heard you persuade anyone so well in your life."
	"Rennock truly has a chance with you at its front lines," Sesette remarked in a respective awe.
	Nara blushed, smiling.  "How cute," Mara teased, which only made her blush hotter.  Sesette, however, did not join in; the motions and emotions reminded her of Nara's humanity, and now that she looked at her, the healer realized this talk had considerably weakened the seeress's mind and body.  She kept her eyes on her potential patient's heaving body as she went on.
	"Sha'Sonax, have I shown you anything?"
	"I am disappointed in myself when I admit it."  The dragon sighed into Nara's mind; the sensation confused her, making her wonder if somehow she registered his breathing, since she really did.  "But, it seems I have, indeed, erred."
	"What will you do?" she asked, backing away entirely from a condescending point of view.
	"At this point, I am not sure."
	Now Nara did decide to proceed.  "The Dragonriders can have a life different from conquering," she declared.  "They can--"
	"Let me guess your reasoning, human," the black dragon interrupted.  "I should destroy the useless and ultimately destructive Rhailo now, while I still can, take the rest of the Dragonriders--without a rider, no less--to Rennock and propose a truce, and seek employment as an errand boy for the Region of Rennock.  Is that correct?"
	She grimaced.  "I did not mean--"
	"No, wizard.  You did not <think>."  Sha'Sonax paused, and she got the distinct impression his real voice laughed.  "You have shown me something today, but you have not determined my course.  I will consider carefully how I might redirect it.  You shall not influence me further."
	"But--"
	'Leave me!'  Nara had no time to echo this before Sha'Sonax, booming mental voice and all, left her mind.  Her further attempts to contact him went to no avail.
	Finally, the seeress simply slumped into her seat.  Once she stopped her all-important talk, she recognized, breathing hard, that it had not done good things to her.  Her body felt exhausted, and she leaned back against her chair; Sesette stood and got behind it, and Nara felt grateful for her presence.  Her mind, however, also felt exhausted, and Sesette could not cure or help that.  She hoped something could, but she counted against it.
	"What did you think?" she asked the two as Sesette smoothly massaged the woman's tense shoulders.
	"I think Sha'Sonax would have to be very strong to resist your reasoning," Mara said, smiling.
	"He is," Nara responded immediately, taking the dancer's smile.
	"Still," Sesette spoke, "the black dragon no doubt has a decision to make now, thanks to you.  I would not be surprised to see him make it today...and maybe even to tell you."
	"If it's good news," Mara agreed.  "I doubt he would warn you of an attack any more than we know of it already."
	By this time, Nara had melted into the chair, letting the tension paining and tiring her body drain under Sesette's touch.  "I hope so," she mumbled, already starting to doze off.
	"Hmm?"  The woman looked at her sister, then up at Sesette.  "Why are you putting her to sleep?"
	"It is just a side effect," she said, smiling.  "She is getting only needed rest."  Mara thought for a moment, then shrugged, Sesette continuing to perform her own art all the while.

-Entertainment-

	Nara awoke just under an hour later, feeling much more relaxed and energetic.  She had no idea just how much Sesette's massages would help her; both she and her sister were impressed.  The three left the library in the same condition, deciding to reunite with their friends before moving on.
	Once they reentered the Shield of Rennock, they found only Cristo and Brey, sitting at a table in the middle of the waiting room that faced a couch.  Mara asked where the others went quickly.
	"They sought greater entertainment outside the Inn and, of course, have not as yet returned.  How did what you undertook proceed?" Brey asked.
	"We...aren't sure," Nara answered.  From there, she explained her escapade to her two friends, who already knew vaguely of The Art from when they took her to find her mother.  They understood more easily than the vacant three of the group would. 
	"Well, up to this point, most of our stay in Rennock has been on business," Mara said, leaning against the couch and swinging her foot.  "So, I propose a trip."
	"To an Academy?" Nara asked, grinning.  Mara nodded.
	The scholarly men looked at each other.  "Academy?" they asked, suddenly very interested.
	The wizards led Brey and Cristo to the same Academy they had passed on their way to the library.  They found the entire place fascinating, Cristo for seeing a school where people went specifically to learn magic and Brey when he ascertained the place had new magic.
	The four magic users spent hours there, studying the spellbooks, talking to the practitioners, and occasionally seeing some demonstrations.  The chancellor watched a young man perform a spell on a sick fellow called Analyze that checked to see if he had any disease, curable or incurable; thankfully, the spell pulsed a blue light on his temple, meaning he was fine.  Mara saw a spell that lit up the immediate vicinity with a glowing, floating orb; the man called this spell Radiant, appropriately enough.  Nara, oddly enough, got the pleasure of seeing two new offensive techniques.  The first was Collapse, a form of earth manipulation, something the common magic of the world left untouched.  The second was Hurt, the weak beam of pure energy (she asked them to cast it on her, and she understood what they meant by weak) that the mages had attacked the air raiders with.  The students told her that a few of the masters in the city knew a spell called Hurtmore, but none of them would share the deadly spell even if anyone could find them.  Brey saw no spells of note; he spent most of his time reading instead of talking.  "Probably learning the spells for himself," Cristo remarked.
	The book study did not go as admirably.  The quartet mainly saw spells that either resembled or exactly copied their own--the Heal group, in fact, even carried the same name.  Most had different names, but did the same thing, such as Fire Storm, an equivalent of Firevolt.  Then, while Mara studied similar high-end attack spells, she came across something that sounded fairly new....
	"Listen to this," she prompted the others, who looked up from their own texts and across the table they had occupied to her.  She smiled as she read on, then began: "'Madante.
	"'The legendary ultimate attack spell, this magic art is perhaps the most devastating offensive spell ever devised.  The spell consumes all of the caster's magical resources and projects them into an energy sphere.  The energy flows forward and explodes outwards fantastically when the caster beckons it.  The intensity of the explosion comes from the amount of power tapped.  This magic can be used to demolish massive obstacles or destroy armies and gigantic foes, as the energy can flow inside them to blast them apart.  However, it is extremely taxing to the user and extremely difficult to cast.'"  She looked up from the book and said, "What do you think?" to three staring faces.
	"I think I'm glad no one ever tried to invade Rennock," Cristo remarked, to which all of them, even excited Mara, nodded.
	"The wizards of this place must be powerful indeed," Brey stated, scratching his chin.
	Nara nodded slightly, then asked, "Then why were they using only Hurt on the air raiders?  If they used...Madante, and some of these other spells, they would destroy the dragons without our help easily."
	The chancellor answered first.  "Most likely, this reclusive people has trained few great attack wizards, as they have had no enemies besides the Dragonriders."
	"They <have> produced wizards.  We know that much from our capture."  Mara grimaced in agreement.  "Besides, if the purpose of the Arena was to build up ground resistance, as we heard after the battle...then why would they not build up their magical resistance first?  This magic is powerful enough to win."
	"We were captured by twenty or so mages casting Sleep on us.  They know how to fight magically," Mara explained.
	"It is a mystery," the tutor said, cryptically.  They remained silent for a moment.  Then, he asked, "Do you plan to learn Madante, Mara?"  Smiling again, the wizardess nodded.  "I advise you learn with caution."
	"I agree.  I already know I'll have to drain myself daily to practice it.  Using a full blast with any of our powers could destroy something quickly.  Probably including ourselves."
	"Good.  You may handle it correctly after all."
	Mara smirked at the old man.  "Could you?" she asked, taunting.
	"I do not intend to make this a competition," Brey told her, folding his arms competitively.
	"Come on, Brey.  I know you better than that."  The other wizard cracked a smile.  Mara showed him where to find the book, and the two began immediately, leaving Cristo and Nara shaking their heads in dismay at the table.

	Over the next week and more, drastic changes came over the Region of Rennock.  While the wizards kept busy with their personal studies, the sisters desisting after that week, Alena, princess of Santeem, became a diplomat....
	Gronk, Rory, Sesette and she again dwelled in a tavern, learning about nuances of Rennock entirely different from the ones their companions discovered.  The normally fairly complacent women had imbibed in Rennock's less thin brews, which came few and far between, and had since agreed to hold a spar.  Alena claimed she knew a bit of the martial arts; as Sesette quickly learned in their ensuing battle, she understated her talent.
	"You're good," she admitted, nursing a wound to her upper cheek.
	"I guess I am, at that," Alena replied, tossing back her now unbraided, thick head of hair.
	Her opponent smirked.  "Ready to play for real?"  Returning her smirk, the princess nodded eagerly, and the duelers set again.
	The males' faces changed from their starting smiling visages, depicting their thoughts truthfully.  Gronk began to cheer on the warriors a bit, enjoying the battle that now seemed to proceed renewed.  Rory, clearer-headed than his companions, grew concerned.  He knew Sesette knew methods to fighting that could seriously injure Alena in this little spar--and after seeing Alena's similar battling prowess, he almost worried more about the newcomer....
	Less than a minute later, Sesette proved her vow to take the fight to a new level.  Alena threw a punch aimed at her other cheekbone, and when she dodged, she also countered--aiming directly for Alena's exposed shoulder blade.
	Though she would not scream, Alena's eyes widened in fear and pain, silently betraying her.  She fell back, holding her shoulder and hunching over.  When she tried to move her right arm, she found it unresponsive.  The woman looked up to see Sesette's smug, smiling face.
	"You're dead."  Alena would have been alarmed at the ominous sound of her voice most of the time.  Now, though, she focused on making her words come true.
	"Alena, you're getting out of--"  She pushed Rory back, however, as she focused.  She wanted to hit that smirk, to prevent it from appearing there again.  No, she wanted more.  She wanted to <really> hurt her, as her opponent had.
	She looked hard at Sesette's torso, eyeing the area of the heart.  She knew she didn't want to kill the woman, but a spot hovered right next to the heart and just above the lung that would accomplish her purpose.  As Sesette finally started back into her stance, she feinted a headbutt, knocking her off-balance.  In came her other arm, darting for that very spot, the blow that would have ended the fight...
	...and Sesette blocked it, her hand coming around just in time.
	Alena growled, but the healer, back to her senses now, recognized something.  "I suspected as much," she said, standing with her arms crossed.  "First, Mara tells me about an Alena <Santeem>, and then you, an Alena, appear.  You denied it at first when I asked you.  But she also told me Alena was good at martial arts--and you almost just paralyzed me!"  The princess came to her senses now too, realizing everything she had just done.
	"What do you mean?" Gronk asked in his usual, blunt manner.
	Smiling and smug once more as the men both looked at her, Sesette stated, "Friends, our companion is <Princess> Alena Santeem...."
	Afterwards, Rory spread the news as quickly as possible, feeling guilty for not knowing of the princess of his land enough to guess her identity first.  At first Alena just felt worse for that, but once word reached the rulers of Rennock, who accepted it readily, she forgave him.  Afterwards these three experienced at least as much activity as the wizards, and probably more.
	The royal heroine met with the rulers of Rennock, and she was shocked and intrigued to learn that Rennock had given up monarchy a time ago, and a council ruled over the city.  They spoke with her about interaction between her country and their region.  Alena, ironically enough, performed the part admirably--with Rory and Sesette's help, not to mention Cristo's.  The two from Santeem knew of current affairs there, and Sesette and Rory provided helpful input(Gronk would have given input, but he understood little about political affairs; besides, his arm was healing).  With their help and a good amount of time, Alena and the council etched out a trading deal:  Rennock could deposit goods of their own to an outpost on the coast near Frenor, which would in turn ship Santeem's finest to the lost city.  The decision completely changed not only Rennock but Santeem, as the two cultures, at least around Frenor, began to mix.
	Cristo, Mara, and Nara, on the other hand, spent more time with the people and learning centers of the great city; they visited the museums and libraries, learning about Rennock's history.  The sisters, after accruing the background information they felt they needed, mainly delved into the history of the Taltos family.
	Unsurprisingly, Maena's mother, and supposedly her father before her, had strong ties to magic.  The sisters' grandmother, Rowena, made the practice itself her career, and the books said she grew very strong, halting her studies just as she became too old and just before she learned the all-powerful Madante.  She performed odd jobs for extra money (mainly to support Maena's eccentricities) while married to an open-minded blacksmith.  They learned this mainly from the logs of a famed clinician that went to Rowena often, as she helped greatly in healing the grisly wounds of warriors.
	They also traced back a bit farther along their ancestry to their great-grandfather, Tolmin.  This man took an approach closer to Nara's talents than a magician's--he practiced moving things with his mind as a hobby after dabbling in and finding boring magic.  He gained a reputation through his position as a scholar in one of the city's libraries, where he handed out many books and helped school children and Academy students wisely and always correctly.
	Of course, the sisters found out many more details about their family--including some they weren't willing to share.  They thoroughly absorbed all the information, vowing never to lose it.

	Cristo, coming from another series of negotiations that would eventually lead to the trade deal, stopped walking at the academy the sisters and Brey had begun to frequent.  As he entered the place of learning, he reflected with a surprise at just how much time the sisters and Brey spent here.  Normally Brey would have taken part in their political sessions.  Instead he and Mara continued in their contest, and the two almost always remained oblivious.
	Now, however, he found both Mara and Nara sitting at a table near the front of the university.  "My greetings," he offered, waving a hand.
	"Hello, Cristo," Nara offered cheerfully; Mara waved back, a dim smile on her face.  "How go the talks?"
	"Well enough.  Alena's starting to grasp the concept of diplomacy well enough to manipulate it."  He grinned.  "Just this morning, she approached one of the council and talked with him alone about the beauties of our vast countryside.  It swayed him to our cause.  I'm proud of her."
	The seeress smirked.  "A noble act," she jested, her words if not her tone dripping with irony.
	Cristo cleared his throat.  "How goes the battle?" he asked, changing the subject.
	"I quit," Mara interjected, abruptly.  Both her companions looked at her.  "For today, I mean.  I told you that!" she said, smiling at her skeptical sister.
	"What of Brey?" the chancellor asked.
	"He's still back there.  I don't know about him.  This is strenuous work, after all, and I'm really tired.  I hope he's taking it well," Mara said, concerned.
	Cristo scowled in obvious distaste.  The women could easily tell he thought he should be involved in more imporant matters.  Still, he shrugged.  "Will you still be off soon, then?" he asked the sisters.
	Nara nodded.  "We've learned much of our ancestry here," she replied, "but I think Mara is starting to miss Monbaraba's eatery."  Her sister gave her a playful punch in the arm, even though her words did ring a bit of truth.  The city full of scholars predictably knew much less about the evils of watering down drinks than a town centered on entertainment.
	"Besides, Rory and Sesette are eager to get home."  Nara nodded, reflecting on their plea to her the previous night to take them home.  The cynical martial artist had lost the most in her ten-year stay at Rennock; she felt no love for the city, her recent experience there softening her little to the place.  It would not miss her much, either.  The husband she had left at Bonmalmo, however, might--if he had not moved on or died.  Still, she knew she could find a place in their clinics.  In Bonmalmo the people recognized her for her skill as a healer, not a fighter.  As for the mercenary, he had things to do in Frenor.  For one, he needed to reestablish his network of friends (and foes, valuing them almost as much) soon, before they lost sight of him.  He also could not know that the negotiations would put him in a prime position as the only one who knew both cities.  Soon after his return, he would become a gopher for Frenor, and the dangerous trek through the mountains to the outpost left him loving the job.  "We've agreed to take them home by Return spells," the dancer concluded.  Cristo nodded solemnly.
	"And you?"
	Again, the chancellor cleared his throat.  "We'll probably continue working here for some time.  Alena's learning quickly about diplomacy, but these things take time."
	"Darn," Mara said, still thinking of the contest.
	Her sibling giggled.  "Remember, Mara, we <are> leaving tomorrow morning."
	The dancer gave the seeress and chancellor one of her famous grins.  "Then I'll just have to learn it tonight."

	The hill where the Arena once stood remained undisturbed for a time after that.  Bodies, charred building materials and blood covered the vast majority of its face, most of it rancid.  Some in Rennock considered walling it off from the rest of the city; others thought to call it a landmark and do the same.  The decision would come over time to clean it, <then> call it a landmark.  It retained its fetid mess the day--and night--before the sisters left, however.
	From a dry spot on one side of the hill came the sound of chanting.
	Most onlookers would say the air around that spot darkened.  They did not realize the truth of the intense energies focusing there.  Those who did, however, were actually more frightened.  They knew the explanation of the low night's light dimming.
	The casting swelled quickly, as the spell invoked had a fair share of speed if the user casted it correctly.  In fact, the spell would not work without it.  At a crucial point in the spell, the light brightened again, then began to brighten further.  It soon eclipsed the moonlight.  Just after that, the caster's anxious, final shout came.
	"MADANTE!!!"
	The light stopped brightening abruptly, then just as abruptly rushed to the wizard's fingertips.  It coalesced around hands and became an energy sphere of pure white.  Then it began moving forward with the speed of a man running--a fast man running.
	Ten yards later, as the wizard's hands clenched, it abruptly stopped.
	At that point the sphere began to brighten again extremely quickly.  It also began to expand--extremely quickly.  The foot-thick sphere passed a yard in the blink of an eye, stretching soon to two, then three yards thick.  The caster began to grow alarmed.  The spell had worked all too well.
	Thankfully, the sphere stopped at four yards thick(and four yards tall, though most of that extended into the ground).  The caster did not sit inside the ensuing explosion; it merely flung the puny human back another few yards.
	Energy rocked the countryside.  In truth, that is inaccurate; energy disintegrated the countryside.  The ground the sphere touched as it exploded gave way instantly to its detonation, most of it vaporizing but the rest flung either upwards or into the surrounding ground.  Even the air around the magical explosion felt its sting, its less stable particles falling apart and all the moisture in the air blasted to the four winds.  The spell's potential for destruction could not be measured.  Thankfully, the caster saw only its potential, and not a <new> charred, smoking hole in the Region of Rennock.
	Two wizards, one walking up from a distance and the other on the ground, stared at the spot with open mouths.  The walker simply stopped upon reaching the caster, the two still staring for many moments.
	Finally, the caster's companion found the nerve to speak.  "That came from how much of your normal reserves?"
	"A fourth," the other came back.
	A gulp.  "A--fourth??"  Silently, the wizard nodded; they clenched hands in mutual awe.
	Soon after, the caster smiled.  "Well...I did it."
	"I must admit, your prediction of the power you could provide the magic proved accurate.  I stand witness to your victory."
	"And I stand witness to yours, Brey," Mara acknowledged, staring at the <other> crater in the ground--smaller, but made hours earlier.  "No matter my power, in learning the spell you did beat me.
	"...for once."  She smirked at the tutor.  From what she could glimpse through his beard, the old man grinned right back.

Jjukil@aol.com



-Epilogue-

	Mara stood easily to the side of the stage, decked out in her full--so to speak--dancer's garb.  She wore a gleaming silver halter top about her chest and neck, a thin necklace tinkling with violet gems dangling above it.  Two foot-long strips of sequined red cloth, strapped to a silver twine around her waist, draped over some of the more suggestive parts of her anatomy.  She also donned another fine silver twine there, two chiming bronze bracelets about each wrist and, of course, her tiara, the amethyst mounted in it shining brighter than the rest of her costume in the theater light.  Tonight, however, she also had a silk, white shawl, which she snaked about her neck and down to her stomach on both ends.
	Her partner for her dance this night stood behind her, considerably less comfortable than she.  "This is insane," she remarked in a whisper.
	"Remember--you agreed to it," Mara reminded the shaky woman.
	"Remember--I was drunk at the time," she came back.
	Mara giggled.  "Well, you didn't back out afterwards, and there's no backing out now.  Just remember rehearsals and you'll do fine."
	"It's not the dance I'm worried about."  She looked down at herself.  While the seasoned veteran preferred to reveal herself and be free, Mara's partner chose a more complete and mysterious costume.  Layers of thin cloth fit closely around her waist, multiple skirts colored purple (which matched the exotic woman's hair) and positioned to flow as one when she stood still but spin vibrantly and separately when she moved.  She covered her breasts with a loose, golden sheet of silk, wrapped around her back and over her shoulders and tied inconspicuously just above her navel.  Above it all laid a shimmering robe, almost transparent but sufficiently pliant and showering sparkles of all colors about her.  Finally, above that laid her shawl, a thick orange cloth that she found very uncomfortable, along with her hair, a very long mane.  "It's moving around in this," she finished, spreading her palms.
	"You look beautiful," Mara assured.
	"I look nude," she argued.
	"You'll never make it as a dancer with that attitude," she responded, smirking; the other woman rolled her eyes.
	The Master of Ceremonies, standing to the other side of the stage, watched as the second act of the night ended.  His girls performed admirably, as always; if all went according to plan, they would make a fine act to lead up to Mara's new idea.
	As the audience applauded the dancers and they exited, the Master entered the stage.  "That was:  the Fawns!  Good show!" he announced over the cheers.  They quieted down soon enough, and he looked towards them.  "And now we will present to you the Mystery Dance--the one you have only heard about before today."  The audience began to mumble, anticipating the theater's new gimmick.  "Some of you have heard rumors about it," he admitted; he had circulated some himself, of course.  "But I assure you that the rumors don't live up to the dance!"  At that the crowd went into a mix of laughter and cheers, as some believed the man and some did not.
	"And so, I give you:  Dance of the Shawls, presented by the Sisters of Monbaraba!"  The lantern lights were dimmed, and the Master exited the stage.
	Mara extended her wrap forwards with her arm, the tip peeking past the corner of the curtain.  The lanterns above it went back up, and all eyes turned to her.  She moved her head out, only her eyes and forehead exposed.  The crowd cheered, many recognizing Mara by any of her details.
	She twirled out gracefully, making a complete circle around the shawl.  She kept the one end in place, however, and she grasped it and clutched it to her shoulder as she stopped moving her shawl back around her neck, her arms grasping it modestly, one leg balanced on the other, and her head down.  The motion lasted less than a second.
	Gentle music wafted in from backstage, providing a front for the expert dancer to remove the shawl and play with it a bit.  As Mara moved about the cloth, it rarely seemed to move--she let it control where she placed her body.  It wrapped about her of its own will, covering or decorating her as it wished but somehow always leaving her in alluring poses.  She cradled the shawl and kept it about her closely, warming one part of her figure and leaving another exposed; she discarded it but kept it with her, swirling the cloth over her so quickly it seemed to engulf her.  And her winning smile remained bright through her pain-staking ritual.
	After several minutes, the awed audience marveling at her precise, perfect movements, Mara stopped a slow dance by a stationary shawl and wrapped it about her wrists in front of her.  She moved about in a flourish, making short leaps about the stage.  She jumped and twirled, taking her to the leftmost, outward portion of the platform, and fell into a roll.  In a landing she had practiced solely for days, the dancer simultaneously hooked the loop of the shawl under the crooks of her legs and the ends of the shawl into each hand, all coming at the end of her spin.  She stopped curled into a tied ball, her head bowed and her body aimed towards the right side of the stage.  The lights dimmed; the music faded.
	Out came the other shawl, behind it a face the audience could not place--but most soon understood to be Nara's.
	As the seeress emerged, she took on a different personality and style from her sister.  She wore a tight smile and a sloped brow, almost looking angry and moving to match, twirling about quickly and aggressively.  The music, the gentle melody quickening and now accompanied by a pounding drum, aided her as well.  Her shawl flipped about her as she bounded and stepped, winding across the whole of her stomach and quickly coming unwound again several times.  The woman's long hair, many skirts and shimmering robe all flew about her repeatedly, the prize within hidden to those watching her intently--all of them--by a dazing flash of color.  After collapsing from a hop onto the floor, she rose twirling again and holding the shawl outwards as she mesmerized her audience.
	Abruptly, she snapped the shawl to the side.  The cloth whipped forward, whooshing through air and stopping with a faint crack as it stretched to its limit.  The crowed gasped at the sudden sounds; she reeled the cloth back in with a single pull, grinning.
	Nara's movements changed with the music again, losing some of their twirl but showing more skill and strength; she practiced her fighting art to a fast-paced melody now, and this came even more naturally to the sinuous fortuneteller.  She treated her shawl as a sword, sweeping it about energetically, striking at things that did not exist--did not need to exist.  Diving into a forward roll, she swept out with her weapon, and it flew upwards at an angle to snap into the air above the crowd.  Yanking it back to her, she grinned widely and leaped to a standing position--then stopped, stretched her hands and head to the ceiling and spread her shawl above her in triumph...a triumph she knew came on two fronts, as the audience cheered loudly at her finally still, fully-displayed form.
	She began to bow forward...then saw something to the side.
	As she slowly looked to her right, the music faded to gentleness and the lanterns brightened above the stage, leading to the leftmost section.  There sat Mara, still "caught" in the ball.  She had held the position for the entirety of Nara's routine; even with her flexibility she knew she would hurt for this dance.
	The seeress grinned and stalked towards her, still slowly.  Then she stopped, her shawl's length away from the woman.  With a deft move and a flute's sharp pattern, she snapped the cloth forwards, hooked Mara's wrists, and pulled upwards.  The dancer's linked arms went over her bowed head, coming down underneath her.  She began to rise.
	Nara pulled backwards abruptly, and her sister flew forwards a pair of steps, her limber body quaking in alarm.  Mara's head shot upwards and looked at her sister in "fear."  Again, the music gained speed.  The seeress withdrew her shawl, then, as Mara reached her, swept it across her neck.  She fell back to a still sitting position as Nara's shawl completed its arc onto her shoulder and the crowd again gasped.
	Then Mara rose in a careful, fluid motion.  She presented her bonds to the audience and unraveled them, giving her a weapon of her own, and turned back to her sister.  The two began to duel, drawing faint laughter from some of the crowd--they were fighting with clothing!--that fast quieted in the presence of the enthralled audience.
	Mara scored a hit to her sister's leg; a lowering flute and quickening beat accented her dropping to one knee in a bounce.  Instantly, the dancer came at her, waving her shawl about her opponent.  With her own wrap about her wrists, Nara parried the false hits, turning drastically to the side at each.  She rolled away eventually as the silken shawl <poomphed> onto the floor, taking its wielder with it as she fell to a kneel as well.
	Mara stood and began walking slowly towards her sister with her shawl about one arm, the vision's every step a heartbeat to the men in the crowd.
	Then Nara's arms rose into the air, holding her wrap.  She moved the shawl above her "wounded" leg and began to twirl it with both hands.  All the music faded but the lone beat of a drum; it and she went slowly at first, but soon started moving faster.  Mara backed away as Nara rose to a kneel, then rose to her feet, her supposed wound suddenly healed with the crash of a drum.
	The crowd fell silent as Nara again advanced on her sister, who now showed a devastatingly real facade of fear.  The accompanying music became a new, tense piece as she backed away again, approaching the center of the stage.  Then, in a move she made sure looked deliberate, she brought her shawl underneath her, then fell, landing backwards lightly upon the cloth.
	After a short moment, she began to scramble away, but Nara flipped the shawl forwards again, wound it about her small waist and pulled.  With a sting from every instrument, she brought her into a standing position, crooked backwards a bit before her.  The music stopped completely; the sisters, now showing their profiles to the audience, joined their backmost hands and spread apart another foot.
	Nara's other hand came forward with the shawl.
	She twirled it quickly in between the two of them with the frightening progression a drum.  Mara's eyes went wide, and she shook her head, her fake dread fantastically real.  The now-sorceress reached forwards with her back hand and stopped the dancer's chin, then opened her eyes with her fingers.  Her head locked in place this way, the dancer could only watch, terrified, as the shawl in front of her swirled, slowing...slowing....
	Mara's eyes began to close.  The seeress's hand moved away from her face as her sister's expression turned blank, and she stepped back a bit.  The watchers actually began to mumble unbelievingly as Mara methodologically went down--sinking to her knees, then curling again, then falling backwards, stretching her legs out until she achieved a perfect, spread position in center stage.
	Nara stopped the swirl completely and walked quickly to stand over and behind Mara, smiling wickedly.  A rattling noise accompanied a steady drumbeat as she stared over her victim.  She gripped her orange shawl by the ends, stretched it, and flung it lightly into the air; it came down full and spread, falling over the sleeper like a cover.  Using a slit cleverly designed for the purpose, the seeress reached through her robe and into her shirt, pulling a Tarot card from next to her heart.  She let it fall over Mara, not caring where it landed.  Coincidentally, it landed exactly where she did as she fell to her knees and leaned over her sister's stomach, the rattle fading and the drums crashing at once in a dramatic close.
	After several seconds, the crowd exploded into praise.
	"Mara, you're brilliant!" a fan cried into the air as the curtain closed.
	"We love you, Mara!"
	"Nara, where have you been all our lives??"
	The curtains closed, and the lanterns backstage came up.
	Throwing Nara's shawl off of her, Mara showed her grin to her sister, who rose immediately.  "You will never live this down," she teased, knowing the one comment already condemned her.
	The seeress shook her head vigorously.  "I don't care," she remarked, smiling just as widely as her sister.
	"You know you only did it for the shawls," Mara laughed, sitting up.
	"I had no idea dancing could be that much fun," Nara declared, nodding in agreement.
	Then, just as the two almost rose for the announced curtain call they knew they would receive, the theater abruptly shook violently.
	"What was that?" the sisters asked each other.  The outside cheers quickly became cries of alarm and curiosity.  Mara told her, "Come on.  We should leave through the side wings to investigate, so we don't alarm anyone.  If only there were a back door...."
	The two stood and dashed through the opening in the very back of the stage.  They turned from the backstage rest area, where the other performers shook and tittered about what could be wrong, to their left and went down the side passage outside the audience walls.  Here they met no resistance--rather, no one--until they got to the front entrance.  There some members of the audience, suspicious and frightened, piled out of the theater.  The women joined them, walking through the lobby and past a stunned ticket taker onto the sands outside the theater.  While Mara looked about the building, Nara looked above; she found the source first along with other, screaming individuals.
	"Sha'Sonax?" she called inquisitively to the black dragon.
	'It is good to see you too,' he replied, sarcasm coming through his mental voice.  'Though you certainly dress differently these days,' he went on, looking her costume over with a low snort.
	Nara saved the explanations for later and, looking up at Sha'Sonax's back, asked the obvious:  'Where is Rhailo?'
	'I dismissed him.  As you suggested, but of my own will.'  She smiled.
	Several townspeople came up to the two dancers, others keeping their distance.  "You know the dragon?" they asked Nara.
	"We've met on a trip," she hastily explained.  She turned back to the dragon.  "What has become of the Dragonriders?" she called; she soon regretted calling out, as questions came up around her.
	Then the dragon moved again, swooping his awesome wings above him and looking behind, causing the gasps of many a villager.  'They exist, but currently have no leader.'
	"Thank you for contacting me.  Have you told Rennock?"
	Crossing his wings, Sha'Sonax said, 'How?'  Then he began to rise, flapping his wings to to hover majestically in the air, looking down on Monbaraba.  'In fact, I wanted you to do it.  Then I discovered you came here.'
	"Me?  What?" she asked, perplexed.  She became less perplexed but much more surprised as the black dragon dove from over the roof, angled for the ground, grasped her harmlessly in his claws, and flew off to the sounds of screams below.  Above them all came Mara's cry for her sister.
	Nara, however, had not nearly so much concern.  "You are taking me to Rennock, I presume," she shouted to the dragon.  He responded in an ear-splitting, yet somehow affirmative roar to the heavens.
	"Good!" she replied.  Then she again slipped into speaking telepathically--but not to Sha'Sonax.  'Mara,' she reached, drawing on the link she had set between them long ago.
	She heard mental "noise" first--the jumble of Mara's no-doubt anxious thoughts.  Then she recognized her sister's call.  'Nara??' she responded.
	'I'm all right,' she assured her sister.
	'Thank The Master!  Where is Sha'Sonax taking you?'
	'Rennock,' she told her.  'He dismissed Rhailo, and now Rennock is safe.  He wants me to tell them that.'
	'Amazing,' Mara exclaimed.
	'I got lucky,' Nara agreed.
	'Lucky?  You still say that, after our adventure to another <culture>?'  Nara confirmed this, and she responded, 'My wanderlust ran out well before end of our week in Rennock.  I envy you for keeping it.'
	'That is an odd thing to hear from you,' the seeress told her, a bit concerned.
	'I don't know,' Mara evaded.  'Well...so you're okay?  Then--what should I tell everyone here?'
	Nara considered for a moment.  'Tell them...your bond with your fellow dancers tells you I'll be all right.'
	'I think you've snapped,' the dancer shot back.
	'Then tell them what you wish!  I will be back, later tonight.'
	'Goodbye...and good luck,' Mara wished her.  Their talk ended then, as she turned to face the mob.
	Holding onto a ridge in Sha'Sonax's back with one hand, the seeress clutched her shawl tightly about her with the other, trying to keep the bitter chill of the high winds from her exposed skin.  She looked below and around her.  They flew at an astonishing pace, already leaving Monbaraba in the distance and approaching the ocean.  The night sky obscured the details below but she still saw them rushing beneath her as the wind rushed past her.  Nara felt exhilarated, renewed again after her veritable capture.  She could get used to this.
	'That is a good thing to hear for me.'
	She blinked.  "Why are you listening in on me?" she asked loudly.
	'I did not.  You emanated it to me.'
	Again she blinked.  'I should be more careful with my thoughts,' she concluded; the dragon roared in agreement.
	'But I am glad I know this, Nara.  I saw your battling skills in our attack on Rennock.  You are also wise, with powers beyond the fight and beyond my experience.  Yours is a free spirit as well, Nara; I would like to bond with it.'
	'Bond with it?  What do you mean?'
	'I want you to replace Rhailo as leader of the Dragonriders.'
	The woman smiled warmly.  'Thank you,' she said sincerely, even though she had no intention of accepting his offer.
	Nara had viewed the Dragonriders first as enemies, when she saw the Riders' charge on Rennock.  After only a short while, however, she started viewing them as a wonderful group.  Dragonriders knew their partners much more than any horseman knew his mount, knowing at all times how they felt, what they wanted, and how the two would help each other; they even shared communication with them, even though they did not share species.  The idea of bonding so personally with a creature of the dragon's magnificence greatly appealed to her, and she had daydreamed of riding along with them on their glorious journeys more than once since she met them.
	She knew, however, that though riding a dragon would--and did, now--make a wonderful experience, it could never be her life.  Nara practiced learning new things and seeking spiritual guidance, for herself and others; she did not always ride into battle and adventure, though she relished the times she spent at this.  A lifetime of it would never suit her, even if she shared a bond with the mighty Sha'Sonax and belonged to the tightly-bound, admirable Dragonriders.  She told the dragon so with deep regret, but the knowledge that she related the truth.
	A moment of silence passed between the two, as Nara looked out at the views and thought of the feelings she had just declined.  'You display your wisdom again, Nara,' he praised.  'Your place is likely not with me.'
	She nodded, not realizing the dragon could not see her.  Then she thought of something.  'I do know someone who might belong with you,' she told him as the lost city of Rennock already appeared on the horizon.

	"Thank you," Mara said.
	Nara looked behind her and nodded, then turned back forward, readjusting her grip on the dragon.  Sha'Sonax had come back for them the next day, to let their journey commence with their target fully awake and the siblings fully clothed.  Nara opted to ride the dragon again with a silk purple robe covering her; it blew in the strong wind elegantly, sometimes exposing her long blue skirt.  She now decorated herself with her green shawl, her most valued article of clothing.  Mara wore a plain, long leather dress that she had long ago decorated with straps of blue and tan cloth, hoping to make it more illustrious but now just watching the strips fly about in the air.  Both, of course, donned their tiaras; both also enjoyed the ride.
	"And you thought your wanderlust had passed."
	"Maybe it hasn't," Mara conceded, smiling.
	"All right, Sha'Sonax," Nara directed, turning back towards the black dragon.  "Turn upwards here."  They hovered again below the substantial cloud that held Zenithia, the girls remembering their first time here and just how much it had influenced their lives and thoughts for the past two months.  "The cloud just above us holds Zenithia Castle."
	'And this is where "Master Dragon", and my new hope for a rider lay?'
	'Yes,' Nara replied silently.
	'Then hold on!' Sha'Sonax said, exuberantly.  She related her message to Mara just in time as the dragon angled upwards; their firm grips on his back alone saved them from falling many miles.  He moved gracefully and agilely through the sky, beelining for the cloud far above.  The great beast drove through the layers of mist, then appeared suddenly before the castle.  He stopped his ascent abruptly as he and his passengers looked at the great hall.
	After a moment of commotion, during which the black dragon maneuvered onto the cloud holding the castle, the double doors to the interior swung open, showing the man the trio wanted to see.  Looking like he had come from a sparring contest, he wore incredible arms, his plate, band, barrier and blade all well carved and extremely effective.  They also shone green, a color that matched not only his matted hair, but that of the woman who ran beside him, she in a simple blue robe.  Their faces were stern and resolute; they looked as though they could adhere themselves completely to any task at hand.  Sha'Sonax understood better the choice Nara had made.
	"It is good to see you again, Jazz," Mara called out, waving to he and Celia.  "And I'm sure Nara agrees!"
	"As for the end of our trio..." the seeress said, standing atop Sha'Sonax with her shawl now unfurled and around her arms, "...this dragon came to meet you!"

END



-Credits-

Special thanks go to:
Brainwave(brain-wave@excite.com), for his many helpful suggestions and his
own novel;
Spur(bpointer@cyou.com), for his suggestions and his eagerness to proofread;
and Ian Kelley(ikelley@sas.upenn.edu), for helping me describe Madante
accurately.
And thanks to all of you for reading this!  Again, it ends on a cliffhanger...but this time I can assure you I won't write what happens after this adventure.  At least, not directly.  I'm probably going to take another break from writing Dragon Warrior fanfics.  I'd rather see everyone else do that!
Hope you enjoyed the Shawl of the Soul trilogy!!

Thanks, Jjukil