"...And what is THIS?" Fletcher held up small circular disk which was grasped between his thumb and forefinger. At first glance the coin looked silver, but a closer inspection had determined that is was actually a rare combination of metals. The alchemist did not have time to examine it fully, but he was able to say that it was very valuable. The coin bore markings that Fletcher had been unable to decipher.

"Answer me!" he repeated. The naked prisoner lay trembling in chains on the floor of the animal cage. The previous filth had now been joined by a pool of Eric's own blood.

"I don't know what you're talking about." mumbled Eric. He spoke without looking up.

"You didn't even bother to look at it. Here..." Fletcher opened the cage and stepped inside. He grabbed Eric by the hair, pulled his head up, and thrust the mysterious coin in his face. "This. What is this?"

"A coin." said Eric.

"I know that..." Fletcher spoke through clenched teeth. This interrogation had gone badly, and he was near the end of his patience. "A coin from WHERE? Minted by WHO? Is this December's mark on the back?"

"Who is December?"

"RAH!!!" Fletcher pulled out a plug of Eric's hair. Eric, already too weak to support himself, let his bleeding head fall back to the floor with a thump.

Fletcher began to pace around in the small cage. He walked without crutches now, thanks to the alchemist's healing potions. He did however, possess a distinct limp that would probably never leave him. Still, even limping, Fletcher managed to deftly avoid the piles of bloody filth that were strewn about.

"Do you know what I was before I came here..." said Fletcher.

"A butler." spat Eric.

Fletcher kicked the prisoner hard in the ribcage. His boot cracked several brusied ribs.

"No...." continued Fletcher. "I was an interrogator for the Palace Guard. I was demoted to Damion's personal assistant because of certain... liberties that I had taken with the prisoners. But that is another story."

"I'll bet."

Another kick silenced Eric's sarcasm.

"During my tenure as interrogator we had the most ingenious little mechanisms that we would use on uncooperative prisoners. Tiny little clamps with razor sharp teeth. Needles that we would insert just under the skin of the private areas. Do you know what we would do then?"

Eric remained quiet.

"We had alchemists in the kingdom... none of that mucking around with magic. Our royal chemist would mix this potion... a type of lead-acid solution. Very caustic. You'd think we'd pour it on the prisoner and watch it eat away his flesh, but instead, we would run these metal strings from large vats of that potion and attatch them to the needles. The sparks were amazing... better than anything your barbarian wizards could do. You should have seen the way the prisoners jumped when we ran the sparks through their skin. The alchemist called it a 'battery.' We called it..."

Fletcher reached down and grabbed another handfull of Eric's hair.

"...an effective way of getting our questions answered."

"Then why don't you go and get your 'battery'? Nothing else has worked... might as well try that."

"Ohhh.... if there were only time. I assure you, if I had you in the royal interrogation chambers, you would have answered my questions long ago."

"I DID answer-"

"NO. YOU. DID. NOT!" Fletcher puntuated each syllable by slamming Eric's face into the hard floor. Then he ripped out another patch of the prisoner's scalp for good measure.

Eric went limp... unconscious.

"Oh no you don't." Fletcher stood and grabbed a small bucket that he had placed just outside the cage. He threw the pail's contents, a slimy grew fluid, over the unconscious prisoner.

Eric jerked awake. It felt as if acid were coursing through his veins. He felt every cell in his body begin to hum. Broken ribs snapped back into place. New skin grew over the missing patches of his scalp. Large cuts closed and scabbed over.

"Amazing, isn't it." said Fletcher. He held up the empty pail. "You could torture a man for years with this... We've only been at if for a few hours, but I'm sure you can appreciate it."

"Grrrrr..." With new strength, Eric strained his chains. Unfortunately, his revitalized muscles were still only human.

"Oh stop that!" Fletcher kicked Eric in the temple, and then nearly fell as his own injury flared up, sending pain shooting up his left leg.

Eric, bleeding from a fresh gash in his head, could not help but chuckle.

"Potion's not all you say it is, is it?"

"We'll see about that. Fletcher pointed outside the cage, where a guard had just dropped off another pail filled with the healing potion. "We can... and will... keep this up all night, and you will STILL be in near-perfect condition for your premier in the arena tomorrow. Recognize this?"

Fletcher held up Eric's knife. Eric stared at it blankly.

Fletcher knelt down near Eric's legs and placed the blade across the meaty part of the prisoner's calf.

"Have you ever seen someone ham-strung, Mr. Hood?"

"No."

"Good... I would hate to bore you. Now, tell me about the coin. And December."

"Who's December?"

Fletcher sliced through the meat of Eric's calf and neatly severed the tendons.

Eric didn't even scream.

---

[Damion]

Damion VonSinterbourne had the misfortune to be standing near the front door when Zade returned to the compound. The door, recently replaced after the encounter with the Ursinor, suddenly flung open. It knocked Damion in the shoulder and sent the man staggering backwards. Only the wall kept him from falling. With his hand on his rapier, he turned to look at the intruder.

Zade stood bleeding in the doorway. She was dressed in what appeared to be an outfit composed entirely of tiny black strands. A second glance told Damion that it was Zade's rather expensive leather armor... completely shredded. For all intents and purposes, Zade was totally naked.

Her silky brown skin was heavily bruised, and the woman bleeding from several sets of long, deep cuts along her back, stomach, and legs. It looked as if she had been clawed by something large and nasty. Zade's whip, from which she was usually inseparable, was missing from its place on her side.

"I, uhhh....." said Damion.

"Don't ask." snapped Zade. She limped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She took the time to lock the door, and yank on it to ensure its security. Then she checked the lock a second time.

"Why wasn't this door locked?" she demanded.

"I was just-"

"And where are the guards?"

"They're waiting for-"

"I'll want to know where everyone is. Beginning with Fletcher."

"Fletcher's in the basement. He's-"

Zade marched down the hallway and into the stairwell. Damion followed.

"We'll need more men," she continued as she descended towards the basement. "Is Vendredi still in the area? We can hire some of his hunters. Yes... hunters will be perfect...MORE than perfect..."

"No. He's left town already. What are you-"

"Where is Oger? We'll need him. Hell... we need EVERYONE."

"No one has seen him since-"

"And Terris? Can the archer still handle a bow?"

"His hands haven't stopped shaking. Listen, what-"

"Damn. DAMN! What about the others? How many can handle ranged weapons?"

"I don't know; maybe Fletcher can tell you. Look-"

"Slimmon. Where is he?"

"Hiding somewhere I suppose. Probably fallen in the corpse-pit..."

"We've got to get him out of here, he'll just get himself killed."

Zade kicked open the door to the very bottom level. The smell of blood and animals assualted them.

Damion followed Zade down the dark hallway.

"Weapons... We're going to need-"

"ZADE!" shouted Damion. The mercenary stopped and glared at her employer.

"What."

"You're running around spouting orders like you're perparaing for war, that's what."

"I AM preparing for war, Damion. The worst kind. It's going down soon... probably at this ridiculous fight you're hosting tomorrow."

"What happened?"

"Look at me, Damion. What do you THINK happened?"

Damion opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Fletcher's voice

"What are you two DOING!" he shouted as he limped out of one of the cages. His normally pristine clothes were covered with blood. None of it was his.

"Zade is preparing for war," Damion said in a sarcastic tone.

"This is no JOKE, Damion." replied Zade. "Fletcher, have you gotten anything out of the prisoner?"

"No." Fletcher sighed. "Nothing."

"Didn't think so. If he's seen what I saw tonight there's no way he'll talk. He knows he's on the winning side."

"What's that?" said Damion.

"You heard me. There's a VERY strong possibility we're going to lose this one. There's just one way-"

"BAH!"

"LISTEN!" Zade grabbed Damion by the jaw and forced him to shut up. Fletcher raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but did not interfere. "This is a losing situation here, Damion. December is coming and he's going to clean house. But if you let me make my preparations then we just MIGHT make it out of this alive. Got it?"

Damion nodded and Zade released him.

"Damion," said Fletcher. "It's not to late to cancel the fight."

"No." said Zade, "You might as well throw your little party tomorrow because it's coming down either way. At best, December won't strike while there's witnesses around. At worst, at least well have a room full of distractions for his people to deal with. At the VERY worst, we can use the crowd as human shields to cover our escape."

"What!"

"We'll double the guard at the door," suggested Fletcher. "They won't get in."

"They won't USE the door, Fletcher."

"Oh."

"Just listen to me and do what I say."

The two men looked at her obediently.

"Where are the prisoners?"

"In the cages," said Fletcher. "Unconscious."

"Yeah. Right. Follow me..." Zade headed back to the stairwell with Damion and Fletcher in tow. Damion noticed that Fletcher's and Zade's limps were almost identical. He smiled, but decided to keep that little observation to himself...

As soon as they were away from the prisoners, she continued. "We'll need men. As many as you can hire with the money you have left."

"That's not much." said Damion.

"Pay them one-quarter up front. Most won't live to collect the remainder."

"Zade, you're making this sound like the apocolypse."

"For us, it is."

"What are we up against?" asked Fletcher.

"We've got a mage, power limits: unknown. Then we've got whatever that thing was I fought tonight. Its ugly, its fast, and its got claws. Finally there's whatever soldiers December has on payroll. I'd expect some of the Night's Bloom thugs to show up for the festivities."

"Thieves." spat Fletcher.

"They're not our main concern. December's attack force will be based on magic. We have to neuralize that advantage. Take out the mage and the animal-thing first, and the rest will can be dealt with in turn."

"How do we do that?"

"Don't worry, I've got a plan."

"Care to share it with us?"

"How much of the berserker-potion do you have left? How much can you spare?"

"Seven vials. We'll need at least four for the fight."

"I'll need the rest. And I'll need some money to make a purchase."

"Purchase what?"

"Null dust."

"What's that?"

"Anti-magic."

"WHAT! Do you know how EXPENSIVE that IS!?"

"I only need a little. Just enough for-"

"You're trying to BREAK me! I can't afford THAT!"

"Fine, Damion. I'll buy it myself. You just get me some men and whatever potion you can spare. Leave the rest to me."

"Zade, are you serious about all this?"

Zade growled and pushed past the two men. She headed up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Damion called after her.

"These things aren't going to get done by themselves. You two can stand there grinning at each other if you like, but I've got work to do. Starting with a visit to that alchemist..."

Zade disappeared from sight.

"See," said Damion "I TOLD you she was worth the money I'm paying her."

[Zade]

The next few hours were fury of activity. After a brief respite to change her clothes and treat her wounds, Zade set out preparing for the worst. Guards were awoken, sobered up, and warned of an attack that would most likely happen within the next few days. Most of the men seemed eager enough for some action, which meant that they were either still drunk or were completely stupid.

Zade managed to find six men who professed some sort of skill with either the long- or crossbow. She pulled them aside for some special instructions, and then together they marched on Terris's locked quarters to see what weapons he still had spirited away. Terris, still in a permanent rage, refused to leave his room and threatened to kill anyone entered. Zade made quick work of the bothersome archer and then went in to retireve two crossbows, a long bow, and some assorted arrows and bolts. More would have to be acquired very soon.

After a few more heated arguments with Damion, Zade dispatched one of the more trustworthy men to the Pan-Demonica to check on the availability of more men, weapons, and a small quantity of null-dust. While awaiting his return, Zade searched the compound from top to bottom. Any stray bottles of 'cursed' wine or other alcohol was confiscated and poured out amidst numerous protests. Zade had to render more than a few men unconscious before she could ensure the sobriety of her 'troops.'

Slimmon was found hiding in the kitchen, playing with the utensils. The man-child had already sliced open two sacks of flour and turned the entire pantry into a winter wonderland. Fletcher was not pleased.

While Zade and Fletcher debated what to do with Slimmon, the messenger returned from the Pan-Demonica with weapons, and a few of the club's more sober patrons who were willing to trade their services for a little gold and free admission to Damion's show. Null-dust would be harder to come-by than originally expected.

Zade inspected the new men and shook her head. When the attack started these men would be dead in seconds.

At least they're big, thought Zade. The archers can hide behind them.

The night wore on.

The energy level in the compound dropped significantly. Zade posted twice the normal contingent of guards and sent everyone else to bed. Including herself.

She wasn't the least bit sleepy, despite her horrendous defeat at December's house. Perhaps that was the very reason... she kept replaying the fight in her mind, looking for things she could have done differently, but the end result was always the same. There was no avoiding it...She had gone up against something way out of her league, and had been beaten to a pulp as a result. Now that thing was coming here, along with everything else December had could throw at them.

Zade locked herself in her room and reexamined her wounds. They were healing nicely, surprisingly quick considering the deepness of some of the slashes. The mercenary rummaged through her belongings and pulled out another whip. It was a little shorter than her ruined favorite, but it was still deadly... at leeast it was in HER hands. She tossed the whip on her end-table, undressed, and climbed into bed.

Sleep was long in coming. Zade tossed fitfully in her bed, her mind going over the dozens of preperations that still needed to be made. Even in her sleep, she knew that things were not going to go well. There were still too many unknowns... too many things that needed to be done. Damion's guards were notorioulsy inept, and the additional men they brought in were likely to be even worse. Damion himself seemed determined to get bring about the deaths of anyone who had the misfortune of knowing him. The entire situation was his doing... his fault.

Somewhere between thoughts, Zade fell asleep.

...

She had no idea how long she had slumbered when the sound woke here up.

Footsteps.

Zade's eyes popped open, but the mercenary remained motionless. She continued breathing deeply, feigning sleep. She listened.

The sound repeated. Footsteps, very light... almost inaudible. Someone was in the room with her. Her hand grasped the dagger that she kept under her pillow. Her heart lept into her throat as she remembered her encounter at December's abode. Had the creature followed her? How long had it been here? Had it been watching, spying on her plans...

Zade calmed down when she realized that her intruder was weaing boots. The creature she had fought did not seem to be the boot-wearing type. Zade still lay motionless, listening. The intruder fell silent, but Zade thought she could hear breathing.

"You must be getting old, Blaymore," she said aloud. "I heard you walking. Maybe you should get softer boots." Zade sat up in the bed and covered her naked form with the sheet. She looked around, but saw no one there.

"Oh cut the stupid ghost-act!"

Blaymore's blue-robbed form blinked into existence near the center of the room.

"Maybe it's YOU who's getting old," said the assassin. "You've never been such a light sleeper. Not that you could have heard me anyway."

"I did hear you."

"Not a chance. Most animals can't even hear me when don't want them to."

"Whatever."

Zade noticed that Blaymore's cloak for the first time. It was ripped in several places with slashes and what appeared to be teeth-marks. A few long strips had been torn away. The bright blue cloth was still immaculatly clean, but it still looked as if it had been drug through a briar patch and then mauled by bears. Blaymore himself was leaning on Zade's only chair, which had been moved to the center of the room. The man looked tired. Beaten.

"You look like I feel. What happened?" she said. Zade's voice betrayed a tiny hint of concern.

"This is December's doing."

"December did THAT to YOU?!?"

"Indirectly."

"Gods... we ARE doomed, aren't we?"

"You're doing fine." replied Blaymore.

"What?"

"You're on the right track. Still greatly out matched... but you just may survive."

"Thanks. I guess."

"Of course your best course of action is to give up and leave now. Strategic Withdrawal."

"Running. That's your answer to everything, isn't it?"

"But I'm so good at it." Blaymore smiled behind the sash that covered his face.

"Sorry, but I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Damion won't run. So neither will I. I'm here to protect him."

"Even from his own stupidity?"

"Yes. That's what MOST people need to be protected from."

"You're right.. most people DO need to be protected from DAMION's stupidity."

"Don't make jokes, Blaymore. I never thought you were the least bit funny. "

"Why are you so loyal to this man, Zade? Is there something-"

"Loyal? Did you say 'loyal'? You mean you can still fix your mouth to SAY the word 'loyal' after what you've done?"

"Don't start, Zade. I didn't come here-"

"Yes, Blaymore, why ARE you here?"

Blaymore reached into his robe and pulled out a small wrapped bundle. He tossed it to Zade.

"Not THIS thing again." Zade unrapped the metal contraption that Blaymore had tried to give to her earlier. She looked at it. It was unchanged... three metal pieces bent into sharp prongs, and a complex mechanism that could open and close the metal 'claw.'

"Blaymore, what the Hell is this?"

"Keep it this time. You'll need it."

"Not unless you tell me what it is. I'll toss it out the window if you don't."

"I can be down there on the street to catch it before it even leaves your hand. Just like I was last time."

Zade sighed.

"Well at least tell me why you're after the alchemist."

"Alchemist?" said Blaymore.

"In the basement"

"You mean Annikson?"

"Is THAT what his name is?"

"Yes. And I'm not after him."

"He says you are. Gives a pretty good description of you. Why is that?"

"I have no idea."

"You're lying."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Sometimes lies are the best way to protect others. Sometimes they're only way."

"So you ARE after him."

"No. But he has seen me. Some time ago, I have had business with some of his..." Blaymore's voice trailed off.

"So you killed someone he knew. And he saw you. His rantings are starting to make sense now."

"That was the past... none of that matters now. And hopefully it never will again."

"The past ALWAYS matters, Blaymore. Espescially yours."

"But it is your FUTURE that is in jeopardy," Blaymore released the back of the chair and began to back away towards the door. "You are on the right track, Beth, but take care... Damion is your worst enemy. December is dangerous, but predictable... your employer is the element of chaos that will bring everything down on your heads."

"My name is 'Zade' now. Don't make me correct you again. And if you're so damn concerned, then why don't you stay and help?"

"I will be here."

"To help or to watch?"

Blaymore's form turned transparant and began to fade...

"Dammit, if you disappear on me again, I'll-"

Blaymore was gone.

"DAMN!"

Zade stood and walked over to where he had been standing. She waved her hand through the empty air.

"And what about THIS?" she held up Blaymore's gift and looked at it from several angles. It was just as incomprehensible from all of them. Zade sighed.

"Catch!" Blaymore's voice called from a corner of the room. An object appeared out of nowhere and flew towards her. Zade caught it in her other hand and held it up. It was a large rock.

"A rock?" said Zade.

"Practice makes perfect." replied the voice. Then there was silence. Zade knew that the assassin was gone.

Puzzled, Zade examined the rock and found absolutely nothing special about it. Then she re-examined the metal contraption. Just as perplexing as before. She stared at the objects and thought for a moment.

"hmmm...."

Something occured to her.

Zade quickly dressed herself... donning some skimpy leather 'armor,' and a pair of boots. She placed a belt around her waist and grabbed her whip from the table. Then she took the rock and Blaymore's gift and headed out of the room.

"I wasn't sleepy anyway..." said Zade as she walked down the hall to the training room. "... and practice makes perfect."

[To Be Continued]