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Date Posted: 21:52:38 11/04/01 Sun
Author: Rowan and Laurel
Subject: Making a mess
In reply to: Erlic, Corum & Yorik 's message, "Secret attack" on 16:11:11 11/04/01 Sun

Rowan was already feeling just a little self-conscious about his night with Kazabet to begin with. Tia’s teasing didn’t help, although he knew she was only fooling around with him. Hell, he wasn’t used to having a conscience when it came to who his partners were at night, but for some reason he was beginning to get uncomfortable with the whole issue.

First his sister, then Tia, now Corum! He sank a little lower in his chair when he heard about the queen’s message to him, the somewhat embarrassed expression he now wore looking a little out of place on his face. Kazabet had not offered him anything in exchange for his company, he reasoned to himself, still frowning. And even if she had, should he care? Course not! People were free to do what they wanted, with whom they wanted, and to get compensated for it if possible. After all, he had done her a service. And boy, was that one hell of a service, all right. He’d heard of someone having a supposedly “unquenchable hunger,” but sweet Lord and Lady, it had been her, her, her, all night! Sure, he was a giving sort of guy, but a little favor in return wouldn’t have hurt.

He forgave her partly because he was such a nice guy, but partly because he knew she’d been deprived for years and years, poor girl. Even so, he was not up for a repeat performance, unless there was a little give along with the take promised this time. And if I tell her “no,” tonight, he thought, That won’t make me a bad person, either. He had a harder time convincing himself of that, though. After all, he was the low-life who not only took advantage of a boy who’d come seeking his advice, but also the jerk who kissed a girl, whom he happened to really like, by the way, without even asking.

“Well, that settles it,” he sighed, overcome by the feeling of gloom that suddenly descended upon him. “I’m a pervert and a scoundrel. Everybody always said I’d come to no good, but who the hell knew they’d end up being so damned right?”

He looked up as his sister and Erlic entered, Laurel looking as bitchy as usual. Better a bitch than a scumbag bastard like me, he thought with one long, self-pitying sigh again.

~*~*~*~*~

Laurel was still very, very uneasy about the whole situation. Deep in her heart, she did not believe Sarra to be an assassin. Yet she trusted her mother’s words with every fiber of her being. Willow Goldleaf never lied. She was, in life, a plainspoken woman, never bandying about words the way her husband and eventually her daughter were fond of doing. She didn’t give out riddles or disguise words with hidden meanings. No, if she said there was an assassin, then there was an assassin. Spirit or no, her mother would not have lied, and she was far too clever a woman, even in death, to have gotten confused, or at least that was Laurel’s assumption.

For the moment, she put it out of her mind. They took their seats at the dining room table next to Ravin, the kindly man showing no animosity towards her at all, considering that they had accused his new friend of a very grievous crime. When Erlic got up and left, however, leaving behind nothing save a mysterious warning to remain vigilant, Sarra soon entered the hall. She took possession of Erlic’s old seat before saying something quietly to Ravin. Laurel, for once, did not attempt to listen in, though she suspected they must be discussing the accusations.

“Isn’t that just lovely,” she murmured to herself, absently taking a sip of the wine she poured herself, “She probably despises me, now, though I wouldn’t blame her for it in the least.”

She looked up again when Ravin also stood up and headed for the kitchen. Just what exactly was going on? She stiffened when she heard a series of loud crashes coming from the other room, remembering suddenly that Erlic had instructed her to “be vigil.” Quickly, she glanced about the room, though nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save that some of the members in the group looked uncommonly tired. Two of the boys, though that was no surprise, considering how they liked to fill their days up with countless diversions. Justin, too, but she couldn’t for the world figure out why he should be so weary, as he hadn’t even accompanied them this morning.

Laurel literally jumped out of her seat when one of the zombies entering the dining area actually shouted! It screamed out something about being discovered and called for their deaths, causing its companions to throw off their cloaks and draw their weapons, as well. Immediately, she surmised that they weren’t zombies at all; they were people, of what race she couldn’t be sure, but definitely still in the world of the living.

She swallowed her fear, withdrawing her own weapon with slightly trembling hands when they all rushed forward. The long knife her brother had given her several years ago had been blooded before, but she was by no means an expert with an edged weapon. An elven lady wielded the bow; even female military personnel tended toward that weapon, unless of course they held a command position.

Neither was she a battle mage, and all that would come to her lips at the moment as the first false zombie came toward her were healing spells and growth spells, simple earth magic spells, particularly useless during combat. She parried the zombie’s first sword blow and dodged the second, but she was no fighter and knew it. Her opponent seemed to sense this immediately, redoubling his attack with a furious intensity, causing her to edge backwards until she was pressed up against the wall.

“Rowan!” she called, fear clenching at her as she heard the cries of pain from her friends around her. They must surely be outnumbered. Outmatched and outnumbered, and there was little she could do about it except call for her brother like a frightened girl-child lost in the woods.

~*~*~*~*~

Rowan’s head snapped up when he heard the zombie throw back its hood and yell for their blood. He blinked in confusion, staring at the fuzzy image of the creature as it rushed forward, still screaming. Now just wait the hell a minute! Did he or didn’t he recently prove that zombies couldn’t or wouldn’t speak?

“Maybe the undead little bugger was pulling my leg,” he muttered, watching as the fight began, a somewhat dream-like look in his slightly unfocused eyes. He fingered his mug of java with one hand, absently stroking one of his swords with the other hand. Maybe he should….

“Rowan!”

His sister’s frantic cry for help brought him back to his senses. He reacted, but he reacted sluggishly, almost knocking the chair out from under him as he bolted to his feet. He shook his head to clear his cloudy vision and unsheathed his swords, leaping onto the table to get to his sister instead of racing around it. When he hopped down on the other side, he was just in time to shove the points of his swords into the back of the zombie attacking Laurel, a faint feeling of surprising coming to him as he watched the blood spurt out of the thing’s body.

“They aren’t sposed to do that, I don’t think,” he said, actually yawning as the battle continued around them. Laurel gave him a started look, but he continued to watch the blood coming out of the zombie as the creature sank dead to the floor.

A loud crash behind them finally made him glance up. A liquor cart smashed into a section of the wall, sending shards of broken glass flying all over the room. Rowan gritted his teeth as he felt pieces of it prickle against his skin, but luckily they were both spared from being hit by larger, serious pieces. His eyes shifted to the figures of Tia and Jeremy, who were picking themselves off the floor, both looking a bit dazed. But Corum still lay on the ground as though dead, apparently the victim of the flying cart a moment ago. Although his mind screamed at him to rush toward the unconscious youth, he could only watch as Erlic suddenly appeared to dispatch two “zombies” who immediately rushed forward to attack the fallen Corum.

It wasn’t until he saw something leap on the table from the corner of his eye that he finally moved. Another zombie from across the room, perhaps following his earlier lead, was attempting to reach Corum and the still groggy-looking Tia and Jeremy while Erlic was busy fending off the two other foes. For some reason, Rowan was still too damned exhausted to chase after the man (it just had to be a man---he was sure zombies didn’t bleed like that), but his eyes flitted upward to the chandelier that hung over the table from above, following the heavy rope that supported it with his gaze across the ceiling and down the wall, extending from a hook…not four feet away from him. Without another thought, he reached over and hacked at the rope, having to take three swings before the heavy material finally ripped in half, causing the glass chandelier to come hurtling down to the ground. By then, the fake zombie was in the process of leaping back down to the ground, right about where Corum lay, but the chandelier caught him in midair, burying his body under a mass of broken glass and twisted silver. Most of the candles immediately spluttered out, but a few caught portions of the table cloth on fire, though the material burned slowly.

“I need a nap, sissy,” he said, yawning again and leaning back against the wall. He felt more than saw Laurel grab his arm to keep him from tripping on his own feet. All of a sudden, he just felt so damned tired, though he couldn’t explain why. Really, he’d have to have a word or two with the queen about that crappy java she was serving. He could do it tonight, while he was keeping her “occupied;” that is, unless he didn’t fall asleep first…

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