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BROKEN ECHO by Jenny North Antanaclasis /ant-an-uh-KLAS-is/ n. From the Greek, antanaklasis ("echo" or "reflection") from anti- ("against") + ana- + klasis ("breaking or bending") 1. A play on words in which a key word or phrase is repeated in a different, often contrary, sense. **************************************************************** STORY ONE: The Ballad of the Broken Blade (Act I) **************************************************************** It was the Festival of Stars in the small town of Beaford, and The Rose and Thorn tavern was bustling with activity. There were a number of regulars there that evening, as well as many people who were visiting from neighboring towns for the celebration. Amid the commotion, three of the regulars were sitting off in a quiet corner at their usual table and watching the crowd with a practiced disinterest. They were well known to the locals as adventurers, but for the most part tended to keep to themselves and the locals knew better than to pry into their business. Standing nearby, one of the visiting tradesmen noticed that the trio had two empty seats at their table, so he gamely came over to take one of the chairs for his larger group when a huge meaty hand stopped him. "Those are for our friends," the barbarian grunted. "My pardon, good sir," the other man said. "But they've been sitting empty all evening, and I just assumed..." The barbarian made a low, guttural growl. "'Twas my mistake," the man said nervously, returning in haste to the safety of his group. The young bard smiled at her brawny companion as she strummed absently on her lute. "Your manners, as always, continue to impress, Throg." He grunted again. "You just gonna pick at that all night?" "Play something!" a woman's voice called from the bar. Others quickly chorused in agreement. "All right, all right," the bard acquiesced. "What are you in the mood to hear?" "Adventure and swordplay!" one man shouted. "Romance! And comedy!" cried a woman. "Something with scary monsters!" a young lad called, quickly chastised by his mother. The third person at their table was a man with piercing eyes and long raven black hair that peeked out from his deep hooded cloak. He leaned forward slowly and placed a gold piece on the table in front of her. "You know what I want to hear," he said. The bard rolled her eyes. "Riffin, you always want to hear that! Let someone else choose for once!" "Sing it!" a chorus of shouts arose. "We want to hear!" "Oh, very well," the bard sighed in resignation. She had a small smile on her face as she looked to her satisfied companions. She strummed a chord and was about to begin when Throg interrupted her. "Just go to the good part," he grunted. The young bard gave the barbarian an exasperated look. "That is NOT how you tell a story," she responded reproachfully. "Every piece is important, and all must fit together and build to a satisfying conclusion," she explained. "And besides, not everyone considers the bloodshed to be the 'good part,'" she teased. "Now, if I might be allowed to continue uninterrupted?" "The bloodshed IS the good part," Throg grumbled, downing his ale. The tavern grew quiet as she started her tune, a melody that was both moving and hauntingly familiar at the same time, like the memory of a love long forgotten. She sang along to the melody, her clear dulcet voice low and full of longing. "In King Ardric's reign of silver and gold A shadow rose from prophecies told, This ancient peril once forgot Arose again 'gainst valor fought The blood once spilled, lives unmade Lost in time like a trumpet's fade But heroes' deeds are known anon Their stories told, songs echo on And into this tale Fate's hand commends A comp'ny of unlikely friends..." * * * * * Wynn gripped the reins of his horse as he guided it down the quiet mountain trail. He hated the quiet. Some days, on the rides like today, it was like he could practically hear his father's voice on the wind lecturing Wynn reprovingly and denouncing his son's chosen occupation. If indeed "occupation" was even the right word. His mother was a human sorceress and his father was a high elven mage of some small renown, making Wynn a half-elf that was doomed to be forever trapped between two cultures. Growing up, everything had been a battle, whether it was his choice of friends or his choices at the dinner table. Making matters worse was that as a lad, he'd grown up on his mother's stories of high adventure from her reckless youth, listening breathlessly every time she'd tell him her stories of heroic deeds and daring escapes. So when he announced to his parents that his chosen career was to follow in her footsteps as an adventurer, his normally reserved father nearly disowned him. "You are a dabbler," his father had told him in that officious way he had. "You never finish anything. These are nothing more than childish fantasies, soon to be forgotten as you move to your next failed venture." The worst part was that Wynn knew there was truth in his father's words. Despite his efforts, he found that he lacked his parents' gift for wizardry, and his skill as a swordsman left much to be desired. However, when his mother noticed his musical ability, she quietly encouraged his schooling as a bard. There, he was able to learn a smattering of druidic magic as he applied some of his latent magical aptitudes towards his connection to nature. His father had been unimpressed. "Ah, a thief with a lute," he observed dispassionately. "Begging for coins as you play bawdy songs in taverns for drunkards and whores, even as you pick their pockets. You will do your ancestors proud." Wynn stormed off in a huff, joining up with the first group of adventurers that would have him. That was three years ago. Today, jolting himself from his reverie, he gazed ahead on the trail and saw his four adventuring companions riding in front of him. At the head of the group was Riffin, a sharp-witted elf with jet black hair and a fondness for putting on airs of mystery. Wynn had once commented that 'Riffin' wasn't a particularly elvish name, to which the elder man merely smiled enigmatically and replied, "I suppose not." Wynn suspected that it was a nom de guerre of some type, but who or whatever Riffin might have been hiding from, he never saw fit to divulge. He liked to introduce himself as a wizard--and he had some skill with magic--but Wynn suspected the man's only interest in the craft was to enhance his more larcenous talents. Next in line was Throg, a barbarian from the north. That was, in fact, the totality of his personal history that the taciturn man had seen fit to share with Wynn. After Wynn had introduced himself, the warrior had grunted, "Throg." For a moment Wynn thought the man had simply cleared his throat before he realized the barbarian was offering his name. Throg was a man of few words. The woman in the group was Jakarra, who was by far the most passionate individual that Wynn had ever encountered. Driven and deadly, the warrior woman had accumulated a good number of magical artifacts to enhance her fighting abilities, and guarded them jealously. Her love of power and gold was matched only by her lusty nature, and she had a way with the men--and even some women, Wynn noted--making her beauty as deadly as her blade. And wielded equally as brazenly, especially in her skimpy battle armor, he noted. The final member of their party was a gnomish cleric named Gidral. Wynn did not usually care for the company of gnomes, but Gidral had a quick wit and made for a fine traveling companion. "Short of stature, long on faith," he joked about himself. He also shared Wynn's love of storytelling, although most of his stories tended to be about his own exploits. "What sort of welcome might we expect?" Riffin called back. "These priestesses of Lythia are reclusive members of my sect," Gidral responded. "They are warrior maidens of the first order, choosing to secret themselves among these mountains. And they will be distrustful, especially of men. But the message I carry from the head of our order should establish our intentions." "That isn't very reassuring," Riffin replied. "What of the artifact? Will they give it to us willingly?" Jakarra challenged. Wynn bristled at her directness. Jakarra's interest in the quest had been minimal until she'd heard that the priestesses were charged with guarding the Maidensword, said to be an artifact of the goddess Lythia herself. Along with the Maidenshield, the two artifacts were said to be the key to untold magical power. It bothered Wynn that she didn't seem to care about the lives that were at stake, and he suspected that her only interest in the artifact was for her own gain. Gidral hesitated. "They have been charged by Lythia herself to protect it with their lives," he said. "And they will not be easy to convince. But Queen Sybeth's treachery runs deep. They should recognize that we share a common foe." Gidral's voice caught at Queen Sybeth's name. Once, Wynn had gently probed into the history there, but the normally gregarious cleric suddenly became stone-faced, promising only that she would meet a swift end at his hand, Lythia willing. Wynn didn't know what Sybeth could have done to earn the gnome's enmity, but her atrocities in her blind pursuit of power were known across the land. "Though curiously, of the two artifacts, the shield is considered to be the more powerful--" "Quiet!" It was Throg that spoke. He had an edge to his voice that signaled trouble was about. He slipped warily from his horse and the rest of the company followed suit, gathering close. "What is it?" Riffin whispered, quietly unsheathing his sword. "Magic," the barbarian responded. Gidral looked skeptical. "You're probably just sensing the temple's magical wards--" "Demon magic," Throg declared. The party stiffened up, having learned over the years to trust his senses about such things. Moving quickly and quietly, they soon arrived at the temple of Lythia, a towering structure that was seemingly carved out of the solid stone in the side of the mountain. It was an impressive bit of architecture with towering columns and large courtyard that led up to a massive and imposing door. A door that looked like it had been nearly torn from its hinges. "Only one way inside," Riffin noted. "Stay on your guard." The party moved into the grand entrance hall, which clearly had been the site of a pitched battle. There were several priestesses on the floor, all dead. Gidral made a quiet oath and led the group deeper into the structure. The torches on the walls had been extinguished so the the halls were poorly lit and the group strained to see down the dim corridors as they explored deeper into the temple. It was deathly quiet...the only sound was their footsteps on the hard stone floor, and the air still had the lingering scent of demonic brimstone. Along the way, they came across the bodies of several more of the priestesses who had been killed, and as Wynn paused to examine one, he noticed a huge set of claw marks gouged into the granite wall. He made eye contact with Riffin, who just whispered, "Let's keep moving." Gidral paused at an intersection. "It's been years since I've been here, I was only an acolyte," he explained, peering down the darkened hallways. He then guided them down a towering hallway with huge arches that led into a large, open domed room. Gidral took a tentative step inside and the sound of his footstep reverberated and echoed loudly throughout the chamber. The party froze, waiting to see if they'd been detected, but after a few moments they relaxed. Riffin, the stealthiest of the group, whispered, "Wait here, I'll scout ahead," startled at how loud it sounded in this space. Soundlessly he headed off into the darkness of the room. After a few moments he returned, shaking his head. "Dead end," he reported. "We should--" Suddenly, the piercing sound of metal against stone reverberated throughout the room. The group readied their weapons and tensed up until they heard the sound of a woman's groan come from the inside. Wynn took off towards the sound of the woman's voice before Riffin could stop him. Reluctantly, the rest of the group gave chase. "She's injured," Wynn said, kneeling over the priestess. She was laying on the ground and her armor had been rent apart and was covered in blood. "That was foolish, child," Jakarra warned. "That could easily have been a trap." "It still could," Riffin said, glancing around nervously. Gidral stepped forward. "Lie still, I can ease your pain," he said, readying a healing spell. The others looked at each other nervously. Gidral's healing magic, while potent, required a verbal chant. In this space, it would certainly announce their presence to anyone still nearby. The priestess shook her head. "No... it's too late for me," she said. "Save your magic... for those it can help." "The artifact," Jakarra said. "Where is it?" Gidral shot her a reproachful glance and turned to the priestess, speaking gently. "We've been sent by the Archprelate to secure it," he told her. "Do you know where it is?" The priestess tried to sit up, groaned loudly, and collapsed into Wynn's arms and passed out. Riffin looked to Gidral. "You know this place. Where should we look?" Gidral thought a moment. "This is the Hall of Echoes. The reliquary is on the second floor. But the armory isn't far from here, either. They may have some blessed weapons that might give us an advantage over demons." Jakarra's eyes lit up at the mention of magical weapons, and even Throg gave a small smile when the armory was mentioned. "Right," Riffin said, "we'll make our way back towards--" "I'm staying here," Wynn announced, reaching into his pack. "I have some herbs, I might be able to stop her bleeding." Riffin was clearly opposed to the idea, but the other three members of the group were looking at him impatiently. "Fine," he decided. "Just try not to get eaten by a demon, young one." As the four hurried off into the darkness, Wynn cast a small spell to bring a dancing orb of light overhead and began treating the woman's injuries. He soon realized that her wounds were mortal, but stayed with her as she regained consciousness. "You have a good heart," she told him. "I wish I could do more. I'm sorry." "Do not be too hard on yourself," she said, wincing in pain. "You are only a man." "I do what I can with the gifts I've been given," he replied with a supportive little smile. "You have wisdom for one so young," the priestess whispered with a small smile. "Compassion and selflessness, as well." Her brow furrowed as something seemed to occur to her and she studied his face carefully. For a moment, Wynn felt like she was peering into his soul. "And courage, perhaps?" She coughed and looked at the floating orb of light. "And magic," she said to herself. She started to sit up. "You should lie still--" The woman looked at him intently. "You said you wished you could do more. Did you mean it?" "Y-yes, of course..." "The altar, there," she said, coughing. "Take this," she said, handing him a small silver medallion. Wynn moved over to the nearby altar. It was beautiful and ornate, and inlaid in the stone was a mural depicting a woman in armor blazing with power and wielding a magical sword and shield. "Is this the goddess Lythia?" Wynn asked. "The Maidensword and Maidenshield...are they here, somewhere?" The priestess shook her head. "The sword and shield," she gasped, "...they aren't what they seem," she said, coughing. "They are symbols of our faith." Wynn nodded, not understanding, but not wanting her to strain herself further. "What should I do?" "Throw it into the air." Hesitantly, Wynn threw the silver medallion up into the air, watching it as it disappeared into the darkness above and then tracing its graceful arc back down. That's when he realized his mistake. "No--!" he gasped. It was too late. The medallion hit the floor hard, its heavy metallic impact on the stone floor making a loud pinging sound, amplified all the louder by the echo chamber of the room. The shrill sound resonated for several seconds that felt like an eternity. Wynn was berating himself for doing something so foolish when he heard another sound...the sound of monstrous breathing. A fiery glow was rapidly approaching from down the hall where they'd entered...the only exit from the room. "Gods above," he whispered. Wynn dove for cover as fiery arrows sailed inches over his head. The noise he'd made had attracted the attention of a succubus and two hulking solider demons who were even now loosing hellfire arrows at him. He unsheathed his sword and canceled the spell of light, so the only illumination in the room was coming from the fire licking off of the bodies of the two solider demons. "A male. Interesting," the succubus purred, flapping her batlike wings. "And here I thought it was all going to be womenfolk." Her eyes traced Wynn's movements perfectly even as he dodged through the darkness. One of the solder demons nocked another hellfire arrow and started to aim it towards Wynn. If the young bard had any lingering hope that darkness would shroud his movements, this disabused him of that notion. Though as he looked closely at the demon, it looked like while their hellfire arrows were magical, they still seemed to be made of some form of wood. That could work to his advantage. Ducking for cover behind a granite pillar, Wynn mumbled a short spell and cast it as he stepped back out into view, even as the demon loosed his arrow, not realizing that Wynn's magic had warped its wooden shaft. Luck was with the young bard, since not only did the arrow miss its mark, but instead it buried itself in the thigh of the other soldier demon that was moving to flank him. The wounded demon roared and pounced on the other demon angrily, attacking its compatriot for the perceived affront. The sly succubus moved away from the tussling demons, but the distraction was just long enough for Wynn to race up to her and close the gap. Before she could react, Wynn buried his sword in her chest, the hilt of the blade poking out between her ample breasts. She looked down at the blade and then back up at Wynn. "Very brave," she said, eyeing the sword. "And had this been enchanted steel, I might be more impressed. But seeing as it isn't..." The succubus backhanded Wynn roughly, her demonic strength sending him flying across the room. She casually pulled his sword from her chest-- leaving nary a mark--and dropped it to the floor. She then paused to remove the whip from her belt and cracked it twice on the backs of the demon soldiers to get their full attention. "You!" she said, pointing at the nearest one, commanding it with a nod over towards Wynn. The other she sent over to deal with the fallen priestess. Wynn's head was spinning and he tried to get his bearings. His body felt like it was on fire from the pain, but with bleary eyes he made out the form of the fiery soldier demon charging towards him, even as in the corner, he heard the anguished screams of the priestess, suddenly cut short. Wynn forced himself to his feet and reached for his sword, in his dazed state having forgotten that he'd lost it. As the demon got close, the beast lunged for him and Wynn clumsily ducked out of its grasp and stumbled backwards. But as he pulled himself up on the nearby altar, his hand chanced to grasp the hilt of a sword he felt there. Wynn didn't even pause to question his good fortune. As the fiend again charged for him, Wynn swung the sword with all his might and raked it across the demon's chest, spilling the monster's ocher blood. Marshalling his strength, he then plunged the blade deep into the demon's flesh and as the hellspawn keeled over, he noted with satisfaction that the vile filth could be killed, after all. From across the room there was a mighty war whoop as Throg entered the fray, and both he and Jakarra burst into the room and started attacking the other soldier demon. Not far behind, Wynn saw that Riffin and Gidral were casting attack spells at the succubus, who was defending with her own magic. He paused for a moment to glance over to the priestess only to find that she, like her sisters, had been savagely killed by the monstrous demon. Through tears of rage and pain, Wynn felt a change come over him, a clarity of purpose, followed by a lance of searing pain throughout his body. When it passed, he was barely aware of his surroundings, noting only that he felt lighter and faster, more driven than before. Bounding over to the other soldier demon, he took advantage of the creature's split attention as it fought Jakarra and he buried his sword in the demon's back. As their attacker fell, the warrior woman did a double-take when looking at Wynn, but she had barely time to react before Throg came in to attack her with a mighty blow. Reacting with lightning-quick reflexes, Jakarra managed to parry the attack, shouting, "Dolt! Do I look like a demon to you?" The barbarian didn't respond, and in a flash, Wynn saw that the three men had been bewitched by the succubus's magic charms. As Jakarra tried to fend off the incoming attacks without injuring their allies, Wynn raced at the succubus, his sword flashing in the dim light. The demoness smiled calmly at Wynn as her eyes flashed with a magical fire. "Fool," she said confidently, "no man can resist my charm-- AAGGHH!" She reeled as Wynn's slashing blade sliced her exposed midriff, and she gaped at him in shock and confusion. "What is this trickery?" she demanded. "Justice," Wynn said, his voice sounding strange to his ears. He swung the blade and the demoness's head was separated from her body, the look of stunned disbelief still on her face. Wynn dropped to the floor exhausted as he started to regain his senses, like a fog lifting. He didn't even notice as the others approached him, looking concerned. "Wynn?" Riffin asked. "Is that you?" Wynn flashed him a tired grin. "Who else would it...be..." Again, his voice sounded strange to him. He cleared his throat and brought a hand to his chest, startled when he encountered a woman's soft yielding bosom there. He shook his head to clear it, and it felt like awaking from a dream. Except this dream was all too real. As he grasped at his female body in shocked disbelief, he dropped the sword that he'd hardly been aware that he'd been carrying. The sound of the weapon hitting the floor echoed resoundingly in the space and they all looked down to behold it...an elegant sword with a long slender blade that had delicate runes running down its length. "The Maidensword," Gidral gasped. After a heated debate, the group agreed that it would be better to remain at the temple for the night. Riffin wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible to deliver the Maidensword to its proper guardians, but Gidral was adamant that they stay at least long enough for him to administer funeral rites for the fallen warrior maidens that had died defending it. Wynn had prevailed on the both of them to at least try and lift the "curse" that the blade had placed upon him--or rather HER--but after exhausting their repertoire of magical cures and counter-spells, they conceded defeat. "I'm sorry, Wynn," Riffin said. "Maybe when we get back to the city we can get someone to lift the curse...if that's what it is." Wynn crossed her arms defiantly, trying to ignore the feeling of her breasts pressed against them. "Well, what ELSE would it be?" she snapped, hating how petulant she sounded. Riffin shrugged slightly. "It's just...I'm not even detecting magic on you. Or the sword, for that matter. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were..." "Divine," Gidral interrupted. "What do you mean?" "You know what I mean," the cleric replied. "This is one of the artifacts of the goddess Lythia herself. To wield it...you have been given a great honor." "Yes, well, I've had enough honor for one day," Wynn retorted. "Perhaps someone else would care for the opportunity?" Throg shuddered at the thought. "I've no wish to be a woman," he said. Jakarra tried to pick up the blade but the moment she touched it, her hand jerked open, causing her to drop it on the ground. She made a small grumble of displeasure. "'Twould seem the blade has already found its mistress," Gidral observed, glancing at Wynn. Wynn made a face at the feminine title and was about to take issue with it, but she saw no malice in Gidral's demeanor and let it pass. The next morning before daybreak, Wynn sneaked quietly away from the others to see to her morning toilette. She knew it was unwise going off on her own, but couldn't bear the teasing smirks of the others as she explored this unwelcome aspect of her new maidenhood. After seeing to her needs in the temple's lavatory, she chanced to hear running water and soon came upon a large open room with a small sheltered pool that had been seemingly carved into the mountain and was fed by a small waterfall above. She quickly removed her boots and breeches and fumbled with her top, which was loose and ungainly on her slender female frame. "You would do well not to wander, milady," Jakarra's voice came, startling Wynn. "Especially now that you make such a tempting morsel for...predators," she added, eyeing Wynn's bare legs. Wynn tugged girlishly down on her tunic. "Jakarra! What are you doing here?" "Bathing," the other woman said matter-of-factly, doffing her clothes. In a trice, she was naked and entering the shallow water that did nothing to hide her stunningly voluptuous form. Wynn blushed and averted her eyes, still tugging down on her shirt. Jakarra cast an eye on Wynn's self-conscious demeanor. "You need new clothes," she observed. "Those fit you ill. Gidral has some skill with a needle and thread, he should be able to fit some of the priestess' clothes to you." "I will wear my own clothes, thank you," Wynn sniffed, tugging vainly at one of the clasps on her belt, which was practically falling off her hips. "Those clothes will get you killed," Jakarra replied as she emerged naked from the water and approached the flustered young half-elf. Faced with the amazon's brazen display, Wynn looked at the ground as Jakarra's strong hands nimbly unfastened the clasps. "They are too bulky for you, now, your armor too heavy for your girlish physique." "I can manage just fine," Wynn said. "An enemy's blade will not care what sex you were born as," Jakarra said. "And your pouting denials will offer no protection when their arrows pierce your tender flesh." Wynn watched the taller woman as she turned and strode back into the glistening pool. "I wasn't pouting," she protested, stripping down to her baggy tunic. She nervously fingered the fabric, but upon seeing Jakarra's smirk she pulled the garment quickly over her head and tossed in on the pile of clothes. Nude for the first time in her female body, Wynn blushed and joined Jakarra in the pool. As she washed her new body self-consciously, Wynn suddenly paused and broke into a little smile. "What amuses you?" "I'm just remembering something my father told me the day I left," Wynn said. "He didn't approve of what I was doing and I was surprised when he came to bid me farewell. When I asked why, he said it was because he thought it would be the last time he saw his son alive." The statement hung in the air for a long moment before Wynn broke out into a decidedly girlish giggle. As she broke out into laugher, Jakarra started to laugh, as well. "Damn the man, he always has to be right about everything!" Wynn laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. Taking a long breath, Wynn gazed at the sword laying on the ground and then looked at Jakarra. "Queen Sybeth. She's not going to rest until she has the Maidensword, is she?" "If you believe in the prophecy, it is the only thing that can stand against the magical power of the Maidenshield," Jakarra said. Wynn considered that. "Do you believe in the prophecy? In Lythia, the gods above, the notion that I might be chosen for this task?" Jakarra was silent for a moment. "I believe that there are powers greater than us, yes. That they have voices, if only we care to listen." "And the rest?" "It does not matter what I believe, it matters only what Queen Sybeth believes," she responded. "And she DOES believe in the prophecy. She will stop at nothing to possess that which would give her more power." Wynn looked down at her girl's body, with its slender arms and gentle curves. "I was never much of a fighter even before this happened," she admitted. "Now I'm even less than that. But Sybeth was trained as a warrior priestess of Lythia before she broke her vows. I don't stand a chance against her." "I agree," Jakarra said bluntly. "Your female body lacks a man's strength and your male mind lacks a woman's wiles. You are less than either." Wynn looked at her in shock. "The Maidensword is a mighty artifact, meant to be wielded by a champion--a woman--of equal mettle," Jakarra asserted. "It may have chosen you as its champion, but you are no warrior. Nor are you a woman. I fear you may get us all killed." Late that morning, Riffin was pacing anxiously as he waited by the horses. "We should have left this place hours ago," he said to Throg, who was silently watching the agitated elf. "This is the first place Sybeth will be looking for us, and that succubus was almost certainly one of her trusted guard. When she fails to report to her mistress, where do you think Sybeth will come looking?" Without a hint of sarcasm, the barbarian grunted, "Here." "Well, at least we're all in agreement," Riffin muttered. As Jakarra emerged from the temple and walked towards them, he called to her. "Any chance we'll be leaving before midday?" "They're nearly done. Gidral had one last sanctifying ritual to perform." "Those priestesses are as dead as they're going to get. I'm more concerned with the living." "Mmm," she murmured in agreement. "However, this final ritual wasn't for the dead. Gidral felt it important to bestow a blessing on Lythia's new champion." "You cannot be serious. What... madness... is..." The three of them turned to face Gidral and Wynn, who were both emerging from the temple. Wynn was garbed in the armor and raiment befitting of one of the warrior maidens of Lythia. Her armor was functional and form- fitting, putting the transformed bard's feminine charms on captivating display as they clung to her shapely new body. Her hair and face had been cleaned and made up fetchingly, and the Maidensword hung in a ceremonial scabbard that rested against her curvaceous hip. "I braided her hair," Jakarra said, sidling up beside Riffin who was gawking at the comely young half-elf. "And I thought the kohl-rimmed eyes were a nice touch, don't you?" she added playfully. Riffin was still staring at Wynn in disbelief. The dirty-faced girl in the ill-fitting armor and bulky clothes was gone, replaced by a stunning, flaxen-haired beauty. As Wynn walked up to the horses, she was blushing and plucked at her new garments self-consciously. "Sorry we're late," she said. Jakarra nudged Riffin. "Well? Have you nothing to say?" "Lovely," Throg said approvingly. Wynn blushed further and looked at the ground even as Jakarra smiled broadly at the young bard's discomfiture. Riffin, finding his voice, said to the others, "Mount up. We need to put some distance between us and this place before we're discovered by--" "Queen Sybeth," Throg cut in. Riffin shot him a look. "Indeed. Or her demons." "No," Throg said, staring down the mountain pass. "Queen Sybeth AND her demons." They turned to follow the barbarian's line of vision to see a small army of demons charging down the mountain pass, blocking the party's only way out of the canyon. At the head of the pack were a pair of black bat- winged horses--nightmares--pulling a chariot with a single occupant. It was a woman in jet black armor with pale skin and long white-blonde hair that was blowing in the wind beneath a dark crown wreathed in pale blue fire. Riffin swore under his breath and shot his companions an angry glance that said, "If by some miracle we manage to live through this, maybe next time you'll listen to me." Over the years adventuring with them, he'd had ample opportunities to perfect such a countenance. Aloud, he said, "Everyone, get back into the temple! We'll make a stand at the entrance and try and fight them at the doorway. That way, they can't outflank---" Just then, two massive winged demons swooped in from above and flew behind them. The ground shook as they landed and stood shoulder-to- shoulder, blocking the way to the temple's entrance as they unsheathed their flaming weapons. "...or we could just make peace with our gods and die right here," Riffin said, his eyes darting around for a place for them to seek cover. "Saves time," Throg grunted, unshouldering his two-handed sword. His mind racing, Riffin had a thought and moved close to Gidral to whisper something to the gnome. The normally affable cleric glowered at him in stunned disbelief. "Sacrilege!" he cried. "But can you do it?" Riffin pressured him. Gidral was incensed. "You would have me desecrate my most holy--" "I said, can you do it?" Riffin said forcefully. The gnome glared daggers at the man, but finally nodded once. "Good. Be ready." Wynn watched anxiously as the creatures charged closer. "What are we going to do?" she said. When nobody answered, she looked over her shoulder at the group. They were all deadly serious and had their weapons at the ready. Jakarra had a wicked smile and even Throg's normally inscrutable mien showed the tiniest hint of anticipation. Wynn unsheathed her sword. "Right." The group formed a circle, back to back with weapons drawn as the demons surrounded them. They were vastly outnumbered but knew better than to break ranks and start the fight, instead waiting for the demons to make the first move. As the demons mustered, Riffin scrutinized the front of the temple, noticing a huge stone pillar that had been badly damaged, presumably from the demons' first assault on the sanctuary. It was broken almost in half at the base. Discreetly, Riffin nudged Throg and gave a significant glance at the pillar before raising an eyebrow to the barbarian. Throg grunted and tilted his head slightly. "Maybe we'll live through this, after all," Riffin muttered to himself. Queen Sybeth rode up on her chariot and dismounted. Her fair hair and pale skin were a sharp contrast to the ebon-black armor she wore, and she carried a blade at her side seemingly made of the darkest obsidian. As she turned, Wynn caught sight of a silver shield she carried, which was small and round and beautifully inlaid with a number of delicate runes across the front. The same runes as on Wynn's sword. "The Maidenshield," Gidral gasped. "She has it already! We can't let her get--" "Quiet!" Riffin hissed. Sybeth took a step forward from the circle of demons that were surrounding the company. "Oh, gentle friends!" she declared. "I do apologize for the manners of my servants. It was never my intent to cause you harm. I do hope they haven't caused you any trouble. I would not wish for there to be any ill will between us." "Step closer and find out," Jakarra challenged. Sybeth laughed. "Ah, Jakarra! A warrior of Vala, if I am not mistaken? You most of all should understand my cause. We women have been forever trapped beneath the heel of a patriarchy that values us only as chattel. I would seek to elevate the role of women! Why not join with me? We would be a force to be reckoned with!" "Lying filth!" Gidral spat. "You, who chose to forsake the holiest of orders!" "A cleric of Lythia yet lives in this place? How delightful. But I don't believe I've had the pleasure?" "You murdered my family at the massacre of Valladrest!" Gidral shouted. He started to charge her, but Riffin and Throg held him back. Riffin whispered in the enraged gnome's ear, "Don't, my friend. She's trying to goad us." Sybeth took a few steps to the side, circling the group slowly. "And a priestess of Lythia, as well!" she said, examining Wynn. "And so formidable," she teased, admiring the Maidensword. "And yet..." The dark sorceress paused and closed her eyes, holding her hand out just slightly as if feeling the air for something. Her eyes snapped open as she beheld Wynn, and suddenly burst out into laughter. "HA HA HA HA HA!" she cried. "THIS? This is Lythia's champion? I have long known this faith was bereft of any strength, but I would have thought you could have found SOME woman born that was equal to the challenge." She looked to Wynn. "Tell me--GIRL--how long have you been thus? Have you even experienced your monthly flows yet?" "If you wish to see me spill blood, you need only ask," Wynn shot back, brandishing the sword threateningly. She smiled as she heard Jakarra snicker behind her. Sybeth regarded Wynn for a moment. "Very well," she decided. "I had planned to kill you all and take the sword, but the chance to do battle with the half-sexed freak that is the 'Champion of Lythia' is much too tempting," she said with a smirk. Wynn eyed her warily. "And you'll let them live? I have your word?" "Certainly." Gidral jumped forward. "Don't listen to her, lass! She can't be trusted!" Wynn turned to Queen Sybeth and stepped away from the protection of her friends. She raised the Maidensword even as the Queen unsheathed her ebony blade. "To the death, then?" Sybeth made a little face. "I rather assumed that went without saying," she said playfully. Wynn made the first move, a strong--almost wild--swing that fell short of its target. Jakarra and Throg glanced at each other with trepidation. Wynn and Sybeth traded thrusts and parries, finding each other's range, but it was clear that Sybeth was the more skilled opponent. And she was toying with Wynn. "AAAH!" Wynn cried as the Queen's sword sliced across the flesh of her thigh. Sybeth took a half step back. "What's the matter, girl? Not used to-- OH!" Wynn cut the sorceress off in mid-taunt as the young bard lashed out with a vicious swing, putting her entire weight behind it. Sybeth barely raised her shield in time to block the attack and there was a mighty clang as metal met metal. "ARRGH!" she cried in agony, stumbling back from the blow. Wynn followed with a wicked slice that met Sybeth in the midsection, but was rebuffed by her magical armor. Sybeth made a swift feint, catching Wynn's arm on the backswing and raking the blade across her forearm. Wynn cried out in pain and in a rage swung down hard as Sybeth dodged gracefully out of the way. The dark queen then exploited the opening that Wynn had provided her, bringing her weapon down mightily on Wynn's overextended sword, and catching it on the flat of the blade. All eyes were on the Maidensword as it broke in half. Queen Sybeth went deathly white as she saw what she'd done. "You FOOL!" she screamed at Wynn, lashing out wildly with her sword, cutting into Wynn's midsection and sending her flying back. "Stupid cow, do you have any idea what you've done?" Sybeth said murderously. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to see you killed this day. No, little maiden, you will live. And the horrors that I will see beset upon your soft female flesh will chill the heart of any woman-born that--" Sybeth stopped suddenly as she looked up at the other members of Wynn's company. All three of them. "Where is the elf?" she demanded. "Beg pardon?" Gidral said. Sybeth strode closer to them for a better look. "The elf! Raven hair with the cloak! Where is he?" She flashed an accusing glare at her demons, but they said nothing, glancing uncertainly at each other. Evidently even the pit fiends had been distracted watching their mistress's fight. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell," Gidral told her. She spun on him, furious. "He was--!" She paused as she looked at him, cocking her head slightly to the side. Sybeth waved her hand as she mumbled a magical incantation, and as she did so, Gidral's image faded away and Riffin was standing in his place. "Oh, the ELF," Riffin told her with a smirk. "Sorry, thought you said 'gnome.' No idea where he's scampered off to." "FIND HIM!" Sybeth roared, and a contingent of demons started to search around the area. But even with Riffin's illusions there was no place to hide for very long in the open courtyard. She scanned around the area and her eyes rested on the temple. "What was your plan?" Sybeth said with a sneer. "Send him into his holy temple? To do...what? Perhaps find an artifact to use against me? Pray for his beloved 'goddess' to intervene?" She took a step closer to Riffin. "There is nothing in there. The artifacts are destroyed. The priestesses are as dead as their forgotten religion. There is nothing in there but death." "Yes," Riffin admitted, meeting Sybeth with a level gaze. "I'm rather counting on that." From inside the temple they heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Many footsteps. Sybeth looked at Riffin uncertainly. "Kill the gnome," she commanded the demons. "Kill them all. Except for th--" That was as far as she got before dozens of warrior maidens burst into the courtyard from inside the temple. Weapons at the ready, they started tearing into the force of demons. "How--?" The word was barely past Queen Sybeth's lips when she saw that the priestesses were undead. The reanimated corpses of the temple's defenders. "The cleric," she muttered. "I'll kill you f--" Throg cold-cocked her. "Thank you," Riffin said. "My pleasure." Dazed, Queen Sybeth was unable to cast any spells, but managed to get her blade up just in time to parry a blow from Throg's sword that would have taken her head off. She stumbled backwards as a wave of demons surged forward to protect her and attack the party. "Go! Go!" Riffin yelled to Throg, who ran to the broken pillar outside the temple. He braced himself against the wall at the base of the pillar and started to push against it with all his might. "We need to buy him some time," Riffin said to Jakarra as he began casting a spell. Jakarra just grunted, busy fending off two soldier demons who in turn were distracted by the assault of a pair of undead priestesses. "I was not aware that Gidral was able to do this," she said as she dispatched one of the creatures. "It won't last long," Gidral said, running up to them. He shot a look at Riffin, who was finishing his spell. "Though the stain on my soul may last an eternity, damn you." Riffin pointed at the nearest demon. "Wait your turn. The line of individuals calling for my damnation begins there." As his spell started to take effect, a thick fog started to blanket the area, enshrouding the entire courtyard. There was a resounding crack that came from the pillar that Throg was pushing against mightily, and Riffin turned to Gidral. "Get Wynn. We need to get into the temple. Now." By now, the tide had turned against the reanimated defenders of the temple, and the demons were starting to search through the fog looking for the company. Wynn, leaning heavily on Gidral, stumbled towards the main entrance even as she heard Throg's barbarian howl as he made a final push against the pillar. As they lumbered forward, she saw a demoness archer that had them dead to rights. Jakarra sprang in from out of nowhere and at first seemed to interpose herself as she closed the gap to the archer, but at the last minute spun out of the way as she loosed her arrow, which buried itself deep in Gidral's thigh. "AARRGH!" the gnome cried, stumbling forward with Wynn even as Jakarra ran the demoness through with her sword. "In! In! Everybody in!" Riffin called, standing in the doorway. The supporting pillar was on the brink of collapse and he knew it would come down any second. Throg, exhausted, stumbled inside following Wynn and Gidral. "Jakarra!" Riffin yelled. A phalanx of demons was charging right at him and through the mystic fog that was starting to dissipate, he saw her far on the other side of the courtyard. For a long moment, the two of them made eye contact and in that moment, they both realized what needed to be done. Riffin, seeing the demons almost on top of the entrance, launched a magic missile at the base of the broken pillar. The rock shattered into fragments and as he ducked inside he caught a glimpse of Jakarra as she turned and disappeared into the rapidly fading mist. He stepped back from the door as it slammed shut from the impact of the falling column, and he could hear and feel the deep reverberating booms of the collapsing pillars outside as tons of rock piled up against the entrance. They were safe. And trapped. **************************************************************** STORY TWO: Breaking Character (Act I) **************************************************************** Jack rolled the 20-sided die. "Ha! 19!" he cried. From behind the Dungeon Master's screen, Rob looked down at the sheet. "You stab the demoness through the heart. She dies, saying, 'This isn't over! Queen Sybeth will vanquish you all!'" Aidan put down his character sheet and turned to look at Jack accusingly. "Ass. Hole." "What?" Jack said defensively. "You stepped out of the way and let me take that arrow!" he said, pointing at the lead miniature of his cleric on the map. "I was repositioning to take out the demon," Jack said. "Which I did!" Troy scoffed, picking up his barbarian figure and putting it away. "You mean, you saw that the cleric had more hit points than you and let him take the hit." "Oh, come ON," Jack said. "He DID have plenty of HP. I'm not going to risk Jakarra dying in some stupid skirmish. He can heal himself, anyway. No harm done." He retrieved his figure of Jakarra from the map. "Is that a new miniature?" Brandon asked him, looking to change the subject. "That round metal base is different." "Yeah, I just got it," Jack bragged. "It looks just like Jakarra, don't you think? That's the same kind of armor and sword that she uses. And someone even painted it already, and they even gave her auburn hair just like she has. Usually they paint it bright red like Red Sonja." He held up the scantily-clad figure for inspection. Lisa shook her head at the discussion and turned to Rob, who was gathering up his DM screen and books. "So we're going to finish the story with Queen Sybeth at the LARP thing?" she asked. The Live Action Role Playing event--Michigan LARP Faire '92--was something that the group had been planning with varying degrees of anticipation and dread. The group had agreed that the culmination of their storyline would take place at the LARP game, so everyone would come dressed as their character so they could play it out in real life. Not everyone was thrilled with the idea. "Oh, yeah, and that was some serious B.S. right there," Jack said to Rob. "How does Lisa's character end up with the Maidensword? That totally should have gone to Jakarra! She's already a woman, and she's the best fighter!" Troy scoffed again at Jack's assertion, doing a credible imitation of Throg. "Hey, it could have gone to anybody!" Rob said, holding up his hands. "Whoever found the dying maiden would have gotten it. You're the one who wanted to loot the armory first." "It's still baloney. And her character BROKE it!" Aidan looked up from his character sheets that he was collecting together from the table. "It was a critical fumble. It could have happened to anybody." Jack wasn't convinced. "And now Lisa's character is a girl, so now she doesn't even have to crossplay at the LARP game." "Hey, I was all set to dress as Wynn!" Lisa objected. Then she turned to Brandon. "I can still borrow your lute, right?" Brandon nodded to her and then smiled at Jack. "What's the big deal, anyway? I thought you said you weren't going to do the LARP thing?" "That's just dumb kid stuff," Jack contended. "Translation: you don't want to dress up in Jakarra's chainmail bikini." "It's +5 scale mail," Jack corrected him. "I still think 'bikini' is the more relevant word in that sentence." "That's big talk from a guy who just has to toss on some pointy Spock ears and a cloak, 'Riffin.'" "I don't know what the big deal is, anyway," Lisa said. "I WAS going to dress as a guy. And Rob's going as a female character, too." Rob nodded. "Yep, I've got a great outfit all picked out for Queen Sybeth. I still need to find a better wig, though. Can you still help with my makeup?" he asked Lisa. "Sure, even though you turned my character into a girl," she smirked. "It could have been anyone!" he said with a smile. "Okay, so no regular group next week and I guess the next time we meet, we'll all be 'in character.'" Jack snorted. "Except for Jakarra, who'll be away on some other extremely important quest." "Ah! One last important point of business," Aidan cut in. "We still going to see 'Batman Returns' on Friday?" "With Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman? Heck yeah!" Jack said. Rob nodded in agreement. "Not so sure about Danny DeVito as the Penguin, though...I guess we'll see." "I gotta work," Troy said. "So no spoilers!" As the group broke up for the evening, Jack caught up to Lisa as she headed to her car. "Hey, sorry about giving you grief about getting the sword and all," he said. "Don't worry about it." He nodded. "So...you didn't say if you were going to the movie on Friday. I was wondering--" Lisa stopped and turned to look at him. "I'm not interested," she told him. "In the movie?" he asked, hopeful that it wasn't-- "In you." Her bluntness caught him off guard. "W-why?" "You're not my type," she said. "But...you hardly KNOW me," he said, flustered. "I mean, we hardly talk outside the game. I might surprise you." "Well, then, you hardly know ME, either," she countered. "Do you?" "I've seen you at the comic shop," he said. "I know you read Sandman. I think you might be a vegetarian? And you don't like to admit it, but you really liked that 'Beauty and the Beast' Disney cartoon that came out last year. Oh, and you like fantasy but you don't like sci-fi." It was her turn to be rattled. "I like Dune," she contended. He thought about it and shook his head. "No, you don't." She furrowed her brow. "How do you know all this?" "C'mon, just give me a chance," he said. "It wouldn't work out." "WHY?" She looked him right in the face. "Because I know what you think of women." "What?" "Take Jakarra," she told him. "She's runs around with a max Charisma score in a skimpy little titillating outfit and sluts herself around with any man--or woman!--she can find. She only thinks of herself, and boggarts up all of the loot rather than sharing it with everyone." "But I'm just playing her as an--" "I swear to God, if you use the word 'empowered' I will literally scream," Lisa warned him. "You don't share, or worry about the story. You just think about combat and fighting like every other guy, and then you hide behind this veil of 'roleplaying' that's about as skimpy as her battle bikini. So forgive me if I think I know a little bit about your opinions of women." "C'mon, now you're just exaggerating." Lisa nodded. "Fine. Okay, I'll give you a chance," she said. "If I were to walk up to Rob right now and ask him, would I be correct in guessing that Jakarra's bra cup size is written somewhere on her character sheet?" Jack hesitated. "W-well, technically, that's important information to know if she can fit into her armor," he stammered. "Goodbye, Jack," she said, spinning around and stalking off. That evening in their shared apartment, Brandon was playing Sonic the Hedgehog on his NES while Jack sat next to him on the couch. "Am I a sexist jerk?" Jack asked. "Uh huh," Brandon replied absently, his attention focused on the game. Jack was taken aback by the quick response. "Are you sure? 'Cause I never really thought of myself as--" "Yep. Definitely." Brandon tapped away at the controller furiously. "Aww, c'mon!" he proclaimed as Sonic was jabbed by a harpoon. "How is THAT fair? Can hedgehogs even swim?" Jack sat there quietly for a minute. "I'm gonna go rethink my life," he announced, trudging back to his bedroom. "'Kay." Jack saw the lead figurine of Jakarra on his dresser and examined it...the big boobs, the long hair, the ridiculous "armor" that covered almost none of her body. He sighed heavily. "I'm not...like that," he told himself. "Am I?" He ran his hand through his hair. "God, I don't understand women at all," he muttered. "Do not judge yourself too harshly," a woman's voice came from behind him. "After all, you are only a man." Jack spun around to face a drop dead gorgeous woman standing in his bedroom. She had long auburn hair and was wearing a scale mail bikini with thigh-high leather boots and gloves. And she was leaning casually on an impressive-looking sword. Jack jumped back in alarm, running smack into the edge of his bed and feeling like a cornered animal in the confines of the small room. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. "I am Jakarra, of course," she replied simply, sheathing her sword and leaning it against his dresser. She slowly started to remove one of her gloves, pulling at one finger after another. "And you would be Master Jack, yes?" Jack stared in total shock at the scantily clad beauty before him. She was stunning, tall and slim with an eye-popping curvaceous figure that was completely on display in her miniscule outfit. She looked like she could have been a lingerie model, but there was a tautness to her muscles that suggested that she worked out. And her confidence and matter-of-fact demeanor only added to her formidable charms. "Wha?" Jack squeaked. "Your name," she emphasized, removing her glove. "It IS Jack, is it not?" When Jack nodded dumbly, she took two steps forward, causing him to retreat against the bed. "May I?" she asked, plucking the figurine out of his hand. She regarded the curvaceous figurine for a moment with a small smirk, and then detached the metal ring from the bottom of the figure and slipped it on her finger. As she did so, it glowed brightly before fading again. "Ahh, much better," she said, stretching her fingers. Jack stared at her stupidly. "How...?" "I have been summoned here to help you," she told him. "You require the expertise of a woman skilled in the arts of love and romance, do you not?" He continued to gawk at her, his eyes tracing over her soft flesh and amazing curves. She had a young face--probably not much older than Jack himself--which was exquisitely made up and heightened her feminine features. Her soft, pouting lips, her penetrating come-hither eyes...even her thin arched eyebrows, now raised quizzically at him. "Huh?" he blurted out. She blinked her eyes slowly. "Very well," she decided. "Clearly I must find other ways of loosening your tongue." She started to unfasten her armored brassiere. Jack backed up against the bed. "Wait, wait, whoa! What are you DOING?" "You obviously find my sexuality intimidating," she said, temporarily frustrated by the clasp and pausing to remove her other glove. "Once we have sexual relations, that will make it more familiar." She turned around and brushed her long hair out of the way, revealing the expanse of naked flesh across her rounded shoulders and down her back, tracing downward to her slender waist and a truly profound set of hips. "Would you mind?" she asked, nodding over her shoulder. "The clasp seems to be stuck." Jack ran his hands down his face, floored by the sight in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before grabbing a blanket off the bed and throwing it to her. "Wait," he said. "Just...wait." She held it uncertainly and arched an eyebrow. "You DON'T wish to have relations?" she asked. "That would be awesome," Jack admitted. He sat on a chair and motioned to the bed. "But just...sit?" She tossed the blanket on the bed and sat, eyeing him skeptically. "I would have hoped my maker to be more somewhat more articulate." Jack was thrown by that. "You mean...you know who I am? And what you are?" She shrugged. "I know enough. We are after all the playthings of the gods, are we not?" She regarded the lead figurine of herself. "I'm not a god," Jack said. "But...you're just a fictional character. You're not real." She reached over and pinched his leg. "Ow! What was that fo--oh, I get it, very funny. But how can you be okay with that? Doesn't that bother you? Free will, and all that?" "How do you know you're not a character in someone else's tale, Master Jack?" Jakarra challenged him. "However, that my maker should have need of my services is rather flattering." Jack held up his hands. "Look, just...nobody's servicing anybody, okay?" "I was referring to your problems with your lady love." "Lisa? What do you know about her?" "I know she is another celestial being, such as yourself." She paused as a thought occurred to her. "Does she command one of my companions, as well?" Jack nodded. "Wynn. The bard." "Ahh," she whispered in understanding. "A woman! That explains much." "Well, I appreciate the offer, but I've got things well in control with Lisa. So you can shuffle on back to Rathorp or the Plains of Agzarar or wherever and meet up with the rest of the party." Jakarra considered that. "No," she decided. "Well, I...I command you!" The pronouncement hung in the air for a moment before Jakarra burst into laughter. "Oh, you do have a sense of humor! Perhaps I see some of myself in you, after all," she smiled. "Understand, 'Master Jack' is an honorific, not an oath. I will stay until my work here is done." "Fantastic," Jack sighed. * * * * * The next morning, Brandon walked out into the living room while eating a bowl of cereal to find Jack sleeping on the couch. "'Sup?" he asked, as Jack rubbed his eyes. "My, um, cousin is visiting for a few days." "What's his name?" "Uh, Jackie." Brandon laughed once. "Jack and Jackie? That's gonna be con... fu... sing..." his jaw dropped as he stared past Jack down the hallway. Jack turned around to see Jakarra walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel. That she was using to dry her hair. "Truly, you live in an age of wonders!" she marveled as she walked naked back to Jack's room. Brandon was still staring after her after she'd gone. "Never mind. I think I'll be able to keep it straight." Jack cleared his throat. "She's...Swedish." He called down the hall after her. "I put some clothes out for you to wear!" "My gratitude, Master Jack!" "She lost her suitcase," he explained to Brandon. As he rolled off the couch and got up to get some coffee with a puzzled Brandon in tow, she soon emerged wearing some loose-fitting shorts with sandals and an Iron Maiden T-shirt that had seen better days. "That T-shirt has never looked so good," Brandon said admiringly. "Brandon, this is Jackie, my cousin," Jack said, emphasizing the last bit for Jakarra's benefit. "Jackie, this is--" "Riffin?" she asked, eyeing him carefully. "Dude, you told her about our game?" he said. "And it's Brandon, actually," he said, shaking her hand. "Wow, nice grip," he added. "A pleasure, Master Brandon." He gave her a funny smile. "Right. Well, I need to run to class. You two have fun today. Jackie, I hope I'll see more of you later." "I am certain that can be arranged," Jakarra said with a smile. "I have GOT to visit Sweden," Brandon said in wonder as he left. Jack looked at her accusingly. "What the hell was that?" Jakarra shrugged. "What? When I see something I'm interested in, I pursue it. I thought you of all people would understand that." "You want Brandon?" Jack asked, incredulous. "He's a nice guy, but kind of a tool, if you ask me. You could definitely do better." She pulled open the refrigerator door, making a surprised little "hmm" as she peeked inside. "You shouldn't be so quick to base attraction solely on physical appearance," she chided him. "In fact, he reminds me a little of Riffin." "Riffin?" Jack echoed, even more incredulous. "I always rather fancied him," Jakarra admitted. "But...he's useless in a fight!" "There is more to life than fighting, Master Jack," she admonished. "It's true he has a roguish mien, but there is a devilish charm there, as well." He sighed. "Look, just drop the 'master' stuff, okay? Just stay here and help yourself to whatever's in the fridge...we'll sort this out tonight after I get back from class." "No," she said firmly. "Your studies will wait, and I will not tarry in my quest. Today you will fight for the love of your damsel," she declared in a no-nonsense tone. "And you," she added, scrutinizing his rumpled jeans and T-shirt, "you must gird yourself for battle." A couple hours later, the two of them were walking along the sidewalk in town, and at Jakarra's prompting, Jack had cleaned up and was wearing his least rumpled button-down shirt and khakis. However, Jakarra, despite being the scruffier of the two in her ill-fitting shorts and shirt was definitely drawing more attention. She smiled coyly as a cute guy walked past, much to the annoyance of the girl he was walking with. "Will you knock that off?" Jack chided her. "You're going to get into trouble doing that." "I can handle myself in a fight," she reminded him. "On the battlefield or...elsewhere," she said, giving another guy an appraising look. "Jesus, I really DID create a monster," Jack moaned. She stopped and turned to face him. "Are you ashamed of me?" she asked. "What? No!" "Then if you are not embarrassed BY me, then you must be embarrassed FOR me," she reasoned. "You believe I am behaving improperly." Jack looked around at the other people passing by on the sidewalk. "I think it would be nice if you weren't quite so forward, yes." She nodded understanding. "You feel I should be more reserved." "Yes." "More demure." "Well..." "Subservient." "Okay, now, that's not fair," Jack objected. "No. No, it most certainly is not," Jakarra agreed. "Master Jack--" She paused, seeing his reproachful look. "Jack," she amended, "why do you think I am here?" He shrugged. "To help me with Lisa." "Yes, but why am I here? Why ME, do you think?" He shook his head. "Jack, I AM you," she said, putting a hand on his chest. "Or perhaps a version of you. One that you created. If I behave in a certain way, it is only because there is a part of you that must want that, as well. Even if you cannot admit it to yourself. So who better than I to be your guide?" she asked. He stared at her for a long moment. "What?" she said finally. Jack blinked. "It's just...I think my imaginary friend may actually be smarter than me." She smiled and slipped her arm around his waist. "Come, then. And tell me all about this maiden of yours." Soon they found themselves outside Looking Glass Books, the used book store where Lisa worked part-time. Jack had been in there several times before, although lately his visits had often coincided with her work schedule. However, given the chewing out she'd given him the night before, he wasn't eager for another confrontation. "This is a huge mistake," Jack said. "I must see her for myself," Jakarra replied. "And more importantly, I have to see how you handle yourself around her. Not every battle need be a victory in order to win the war." "Swell." "And above all, be honest with her." "Wouldn't a lie be easier?" Jakarra nodded. "Yes, immeasurably. And were you simply trying to bed her, that wou