Analise stormed as she read the letter.  Was this a replacement then?  No,
her old friend and rival was coming only for Lord Fowler's Searching party.
Analise's mind wandered back to the last time she'd seen Leander ... Leander
Lyremaster!

Though middle-aged and graying, he had still been handsome and well-built,
with a resonating voice that blended with the haunting sounds of his lyre in
a way that left his listeners compelled to hang on every note.

A widower with a young daughter, he had struck her as a bit of a bore when
he was not performing.  He was fiercely protective of his daughter, and
wouldn't let the poor girl out of his sight and she was such a mousy little
thing, who couldn't even carry a tune.  At least her own daughter Merissa
with all her faults could sing...

She recalled that they had last seen each other at the Bard's Hall at
Ralengarde when a request had come in for a new head Bard for Lord
Beauchamp's court.  Analise still smarted at not being selected, but then
Leander hadn't been either, she thought with relish.  She wondered where he
had been sent after she'd left on her assignment. Hopefully someplace stuffy
and out of the way, she thought with a grin.  Still, she was looking forward
to exchanging gossip -- and new tunes.

He'll be coming with the supply caravan -- she read.

****
Clyde Gingle rode out to meet some of his friends.  It was a chilly night
and he had been drinking one of his father's best red wines to keep warm and
fortify himself for the "battle" ahead.  He was disappointed that no dragons
would die tonight, just some of the fools who supplied them.

****
TAG: Jill or anyone else who has a "cult" member who might want to join in
on the "fun"?

****
The Caravan rumbled along the dirt road.  It was rapidly getting dark, and
they were hurrying to make it to the ford where there was a suitable camping
site.  They should have been there hours ago, if a wheel on one of the carts
hadn't broken.  It was odd that the wheel should have snapped like that, so
shortly after leaving Lord Gingle's estate.

The stillness of the night was broken by the sounds of crashing and the
screaming of the animals.  And then the screaming of the people, as the
caravan owners attempted to defend themselves.   One by one they fell as the
slaughter continued.  Leander and his daughter crouched under a tarp on the
back of a wagon filled with wine casks, stunned by the ferocity of the
struggle that raged around them.

It had grown quiet -- as the attackers, assuming all were dead, dismounted
to search through their loot -- and spread some gold coins of a blind folded
lady about the remains.

"Stay here!" Leander whispered fiercely to his daughter as he eased his way
cautiously out of the wagon to see how they might escape.

Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder followed by a knife sunk deep into his
belly.  His shriek of pain brought the girl's head up out of the wagon.

"Ah ha, what have we here?" chortled the man with the glistening knife in
his hand.

The girl's face was bleached white with fear as she stared at the man with
her father's lifeblood dripping from his vicious-looking knife.

As he grabbed her by the arms and hauled her over the side of the wagon, her
bloodcurdling scream caught the attention of the other attackers.

"What have you got there, Clyde?" asked one of the men, as he smashed a wine
cask on the ground.

Clyde Gingle?  The girl thought in horror, was this really Lord Gingle's
son?

"A delectable little morsel," he replied, licking his lips in obvious
anticipation.

The other man laughed.  "All right, you have your fun while we finish ours,"
he called over his shoulder as he returned to destroying the supplies, "but
remember to save some of yours for us!"

Clyde's hand reaching into her bodice brought the girl out of her state of
shock.  She jerked her knee up with as much force as she could muster, only
to have it bounce off his inner thigh just inches from its mark.

"So, you like to play dirty, huh, well, we can both play that game," her cap
tor growled.  He tore her bodice to her waist as she struggled violently in
his grasp.

As he slid his hand over her breast, she leaned forward and sank her teeth
into his shoulder with every ounce of strength she possessed.

"Ouch, you f*ckin' bitch!" he bellowed as he backhanded her across the face.

She fell hard, and he heard her head crack loudly as it connected with a
rock.

Rubbing his throbbing shoulder, Clyde knelt down beside the motionless girl.

"Hey, girl, are you all right?"  he asked gruffly, shaking her.  When she
didn't respond, he put his hand under her neck to lift her.  "Ugh" he pulled
his now blood-covered hand out from under her head.  As he dropped her back
to the ground, she rolled over rolled over face down.  "Damn, and she would
have been so much fun."

Grabbing a torch from one of his cohorts, Clyde lit the nearest wagon on
fire.  Soon the entire caravan was ablaze. The gang mounted up and returned
to Lord Gingle's estate.

*****
N'lin reminded Trefoil that  he needed to tear himself away from Chrysthal's
side long enough to go on patrol with Ophar and Jael.  They met Jael out on
the green.  The big black dragon, Ophar, seemed listless and to have lost
his shine since the death of his partner.

"I hope you don't mind me being your replacement," N'lin half apologized.
"I'm really out of practice."

Jael smiled briefly, but his eyes seemed dull.  "Of course not -- where are
we patrolling?"

"Around Lord Gingle's to start, then further down the river," N'lin answered
with some help from Foil.  He could never keep those lords straight.

They mounted up, lifted off, and teleported over to Windtide -- or what was
left of it.

<What happened?> N'lin asked morosely, staring at the destruction below.

<Ophar says the buildings were wood,> Foil relayed almost angrily.  <The
wraiths got them.>

The patrol over the estates was relatively uneventful, and they headed
toward the river road.

<Smoke!> Foil exclaimed as he and Ophar picked up speed.

****
They landed a short distance from the wreckage of what once had been a wagon
train.  But even from there the smell nearly had them both gagging.

<Smells lovely,> the big black dragon commented as his rider, as Jael slid
to the
ground and peered towards the smoldering wrecks.

The dragons opted to take to the air to search for the criminals, and
neither rider could really blame them.

"I think we should split up," N'lin suggested, scanning the still smoldering
wreckage. "Anyone who survived this has got to be in pretty bad shape."

"If anyone survived," mumbled Jael.  Poking into the ruins, they found
nothing moving, no signs of life.

Jael was the first to spot the tell-tale gold coins.  His sudden yell
startled N'lin. "Those bastards!  They did it again -- only this time it was
a supply caravan!!"

N'lin stopped his rush over to Jael.  He didn't need any explanations about
who "those bastards" were.  Survivors were more important.

He picked through the remains slowly, trying to be respectful of half
charred corpses and not vomit on them.  He wished he could rely on his
empathy and save himself from anymore gruesome surprises, but he wasn't sure
if he would notice someone who was unconscious that way.  For once, his
hesitance and hatred of his gift proved useful.

If he hadn't been moving around, he never would have tripped over the only
survivor.

The moment he touched her, he knew she was alive, but it was hard to tell
just looking at her.  She was filthy, her hair matted with grime and blood,
her clothing torn and covered with ashes, wine, blood and probably other
things he really didn't want to think about ...things that were now on his
hands and knees as he knelt beside her.  Trying to ignore it, he called Jael
over.

"Is she dead?" Jael asked, thinking from the condition she was in that it
was all too likely.

N'lin knelt over her and felt for a pulse.  "No, she's alive, but barely.
Help me turn her over."

The two riders carefully rolled the woman onto her back, Jael supporting her
head and neck as he searched for a head wound.  There was a large gash above
her left ear.

N'lin remarked, "I'll get some water from the river... to wash her off."

While he waited for N'lin to return, Jael studied her face,  wondering who
she was and if she would survive.  She looked quite young, no more than 16
or 17 years old.  He thought she might have been rather attractive without
the blood, wine, grime, and bruises.

<No other signs of life that I could see.>  Ophar told Jael, as the dragons
circled back for a landing.

"A pity," Jael replied.  "Then this girl is apparently the only one left.  I
hope she'll have some answers for us when she regains consciousnessöif she
ever does," he added grimly.

N'lin returned with a dripping wet cloth in his hand.  As he bathed the
young woman's
face with it, he thought her lashes fluttered momentarily, but her eyelids
remained closed.

"We'd better get her to the medical center quickly," he told Jael.  "There's
nothing we can do for her here."

"Agreed," Jael replied.  "I'll carry her with me on Ophar."

Once Jael had mounted, N'lin helped lift the young woman into Jael's arms.
Her head lolled over his shoulder as he shifted, trying to balance his
precarious cargo.  "Let's go," he said.

****
At the medical center, N'lin took the girl from Jael's grasp and raced
inside.  "This girl is seriously injured," he called out.  The medical staff
rushed to place her on a gurney.

"What happened?" Th'rin asked.

"We were on patrol when we spotted some burning wreckage," N'lin told him.
"We
found the girl nearby.  She's struck her head."

"Okay, we'll take care of her now," Th'rin told him, and he found himself
brushed aside.

Turning to Jael, N'lin said, "Guess we'd better report in."

****
TAG: Bridget -- have N'lin report in :).

TAG: Kris -- Th'rin is in charge, but the "girl" is in a coma....

****
News of the latest cult attack spread through the warren like wildfire.
Surely Leander couldn't have been traveling in that supply caravan, thought
Analise on hearing the news.  But her friend was now overdue.  She had to
find out.

She hated to ask favors from her daughter, but Merissa would certainly know
if there had been survivors.  So Analise strode across the green to the
junior queenrider's office.

Merissa was hunched over more paperwork, and looked up, startled to see her
beautiful blonde mother standing in the doorway.

"I have to know, " Analise stated without preamble,  "if that was the supply
caravan that Leander Lyremaster was traveling with!"

Merissa blinked in confusion, "What caravan are you... oh, the one that was
attacked?  Was Leander coming here?"

Analise frowned, realizing that she hadn't spoken with her daughter since
she'd received the letter, not that they did speak often.

"Yes, Leander wrote me that he was asked to perform at Lord Fowler's
Searching Party.  He was due to arrive in a caravan from Ralengarde..."
Analise's eyes searched Merissa's face.

Merissa, looked away, "Yes, the caravan that was attacked had originated in
Ralengarde, and was traveling through Lord Gingle's lands when it was set
upon."  Merissa looked up at her mother, "There was only one survivor -- a
young girl -- do you think it was...?"

"Only one?!"  Analise asked in dismay.

Merissa stood, "Let's go to the med center.... It's about time I saw our
newest guest."

The two women walked rapidly across the green to the med center.

Merissa's dark eyes searched out the familiar form as he came out of an
examination room.  "Th'rin?  The girl...  the survivor... can I see her?"

Th'rin nodded, "Well...yes, but she's in a coma... and I don't know when or
if she'll wake up"

The woman was lying down with her eyes closed, her head swathed in a
bandage.  A large mottled bruise was now clearly visible just below her left
temple.

Analise gasped in recognition.

Merissa whispered her name, "Adeliannae."


****
NRPG:  Many thanks to Dana and Bridget who helped write this post.  This
ties Lord Gingle in with the cult -- when Adeliannae regains
consciousness.
***NOTE!!  Adeliannae can't regain consciousness until Dana finishes her
training.***


Respectfully submitted by:
Arlene Jacobs
AKA Merissa junior queen rider of Chrysthal
J'red and Firefly
Analise the Bard