Penumbra Archive- evan slattery

Penn flicked his gaze over to the blonde who was staring at him. Her blue eyes met his for a moment until she noticed he was staring back. She turned her head quickly revealing a gracefully pointed ear. He stared at the ear for a moment longer then looked around the giant hall.

This is one of the only general classes left, you know, where the physical peasants mix with the magical elite. Not that I mind the scenery.

"You have something to share with the class? Dramatic gestures? Someone invisible you would like to introduce?"

Penn stared at the tall elf behind the cherry wood podium. He was robed in a simple silk robe of green as if he had just gotten a shower. His long marble face was placid.

"Please make it pertinent to the lecture," his long black eyebrows went up slowly

"Yes, Speaker Baqcio. With the recent freedom of the Elloree people and the heavy immigration of the Calparee, how will that affect my-excuse me-"

Finger snapping is the elven answer to clapping. And by the way, everything is color coordinated:

Red for the blood of the bodyguards, Blue for the clear waters of healing, and Green is for the power of nobility.

The wooden gavel snapped down on the podium thrice echoing to silence. A small wrinkle appeared between Speaker Baqcio's slanted eyes as he addressed the Red section

"I assure you students just as I assured your parents. There will be jobs available for all of you in the Crimson guard. Elves come first, regardless if they do or do not possess the Art."

The Art is the elven term for magic or power if you will and we, the red physical peasants, possess little or no Art.

"Unified we will not falter. Elven. Only, when we forget who we are will we fail. Elven."

The hall erupted in finger snapping. Penn rolled his eyes and then found Baqcio's eyes on him.

Penn stared at the sign as he walked by the olive skinned figure. Large hands held the crude piece of wood. Deep crimson letters swirled and dripped their way across the wooden surface.

The Eloree stood in front of a rusted birdcage. A large yellow bird was perched within the cage on a dead tree. All the branches had rotted away leaving the twisted trunk pointing to the sky like an old gnarled finger. The bird sat on the tip and it's blue eyes flashed when it saw Penn and began shrieking.

Penn shuddered, and went back to staring at the man. He swallowed while noting the Eloree's tree-trunk legs, bulging shoulders, the corded neck, but it was the eyes that held him. The light brown calm that echoed resolutely out from those pupils. The placid determination without regard made Penn turn his head quickly to his feet.

Sweet mother! A protester in a loincloth and the banshee bird waxing philosophy in a broken down zoo. Who comes here?

Penn increased his pace down the path. Clenching his hands to keep them from shaking he walked faster. The shrieking persisted until Penn rounded the bend and as abruptly as it began the shrieking ceased.

I've been walking in front of the cage for 3 years now without one damn peep. Now Mr. Philosophy shows up and the bird tries to find it's singing voice.

Penn's mouth was dry as he made his way out of the aviary into the reptile area. Almost all of the cages were empty now. Barred cells holding the ghosts and bones with rusted teeth. Penn followed the curving stone path as it wound it's way through cage after cage. His soft boots suddenly crunched the gravel as he whipped his lean form around.

O.K. fine. Here is the story. The Elloree were a slave race brought here to the Elven lands for manual labor. This was many, many, many damn years ago. I didn't do it, but fine.

Anyway, elves have always been split by those who had the Art and those who did not. The elves that did possess the Art were physically weaker whereas those who did not possess the Art had physical gifts . For whatever reason the Art and nobility go hand in hand. Don't ask. Don't care.

Anyway, the elven race found balance in itself by training to fight and, supposedly, rule together. Thus, we have the Mages and the Bodyguards, Art and No Art, magic and muscle, and in combination with the elven dogma of balance, understanding, and harmony. We all fit together into nice little complimenting sections that form the Elven juggernaut that has held a stranglehold on the power of the Artorian empire for blablablah centuries. Don't get me wrong. No Art, no nobility, no power. This philosophy has worked like a charm for the elves creating the Elven social stratosphere that is ingrained in us from birth.

So, the point is, some smart elf broke the balance and trained some of the Eloree as Bodyguards.

And the fact is that these new Eloree Bodyguards were better. Better than anything anyone had ever seen. Bigger, faster, stronger. Needless to say Pandemonium began clapping its fat hands everywhere. Some elven houses embraced this calling for the Elorees' freedom. Most freaked to say the least. As a matter of fact, three years ago today the Eloree were officially set free.

Penn stared at the iron bars spotted with rust when a hoarse yell echoed up to him followed by rascous shrieking. Sighing heavily, Penn shook his head and began walking again.

Not my problem. Protest in an abandoned zoo. Something should eat you. Besides, there is someone I want you to meet.

Penn was squinting at the din the bird was making even at this distance. He wiped his wet forehead with the back of his hand. His feet move onward.

Penn stopped, cocked his narrow head to the side and slowly tucked a lock of black hair behind his pointed ear. He wiped his thin hands on his black pants and with a crunch of gravel he stopped.

And then he was moving quickly. Focusing, Penn let his ears and eyes wide and relaxed his body to the movement. He pushed his mind to match the darkening blue gray sky and he began to sweat heavily. Crimson cloak flowing out behind him Penn moved soundlessly across the gray gravel back up the path towards the last bend before the birdcage. Penn stared momentarily at the empty cage at the last bend, his view was blocked by the old cell. He started as the bird's shrieking suddenly broke off. Smoothly, he moved behind the last empty cage to the shadowed far corner.

Pausing, Penn spent a second controlling his breathing and listened. His sharp ears caught a leathered hiss followed by a muffled moan. Slowly, Penn eased half his face out to see.

And there she was blonde hair spilling out all over her shoulders blue eyes focused.

Another muffled moan drew Penn's gaze to the right. A red cloaked figure was bent over the fallen Eloree. He could not see what the figure was doing, but he knew what the color of that cloak meant. This was a Bodygaurd. An elven Bodygaurd. The elf stood upright for a moment and Penn glimpsed long blonde hair held high in a classic battle knot. The blond elf spoke "Hold him tightly Leshia or he will mar my stroke." Penn knew that voice.

Penn had no idea why the huge Eloree didn't just get up and crush Vince's head like a grape until, he looked back to the woman. Pen saw that her blue eyes were wide with concentration and her green robe was soaked with perspiration. She was holding him. Pen glanced back to the Eloree huge torso rippled and twitched against her will, but held still. Another piteous moan emerged from the large man's frozen jaws and then Vince stepped away with his bloody knife.

"Not my best work, butit will have to do" the blonde elf sighed and sheathed his blade. The tall elf moved over to transfixed woman and ran his hand down her side.

Penn stared at the Elorees bloody cheek , watched Vince's hand slide down the woman's side, and then promplty retched.

Leshia thin body visibly relaxed and she would have fallen, but Vince's thick arms caught her. He cooed to her softly and carried her off down the trail.

And then there was just the roar of silence screaming as the darkness rolled in.

The thick ugly sobs of raw emotion his big chest jerking as it had before. Penn stared at the man's bloody tear strewn face. The wide face was pinched up and it was then he saw what Vince had done. He had carved a tree into the man's cheek.

Class again. I'm practicing paying attention as Bacqio rambles.I can feel those blue eyes pass over me now and again. No looks just books, the blonde and that fucking bloody tree. Class is almost over I've got to get-shit-

"Mr. Pennumbra of the Red Section" came the calm voice "you seem deep in meditation upon today's topic one can only assume."

Penn looked up to find all eyes on him. He locked eyes with Speaker Bacqio. The long lips of the Speaker were pursed and his gray eyes glinted. The silence stretched out in the room while the tension knotted in Penn's chest. Penn looked away first to stare down at his unopened book. The golden letters arced across the black leather cover.

"Weelll, no lucent response forthcoming from our loquacious Bodyguard. Tis indeed a special day." Penn felt the soft laughter, accompanied by a pepper of finger snapping, bubble up around him. "Now, the city of Ceth...." Bacqio's smooth voice continued, while the red mouths of shame roared out the rest for Penn. He did not look up again until the Ending Chime rang. When Penn did finally look up he found those big blue eyes waiting. They seemed more insistent to him.

I know your secret you sadistic whore. Why don't you go get a tattoo from your cute little brother Vicent?

Leshia Les'staani rose up from her seat. Her green robe whispered about her small body as she walked towards him. She licked her lips, tucked a blonde lock behind her perfectly pointed ear and said "Hey." Penn dropped his head and slowly grabbed the corner of his crimson cloak and said, "Did you know that in many ancient cultures red symbolized revolution and/or rebellion?"

Penn watched the last few elven students shuffle out of the hall. He shifted his green eyes back to hers "and in others it meant violence or shame." He saw her blue eyes widen for a moment, but he didn't see the hand coming. Leshia's small palm collided with his face in a flash of white was followed by the dancing buzz and sting.

"Ms. Les'staani!" cracked the Speaker's voice "you have dishonored me and the class I take great pains to teach." The speakers leather boot echoed off the marble floor as he approached "You will go to the Grove during mealtime tomorrow to think on your actions. Now go!" Leshia turned face turned pink as she turned and stumbled out.

Penn was smiling until Bacqio whirled back to him in a swirl of green silk and said, "Wipe that silly grin from your face Bodyguard." The Speaker's delicate black eyebrows had crashed down onto his eyes "I cannot imagine what you said to illicit such a response from a fine young elven lady, but your sugary soliloquies only spin so far." The tall elf grabbed Penn by the collar and pulled him upwards. Bacqio brought his face close, the thin lips inches from Penn's ear. His breath was hot and the whisper soft "You are here to serve and protect. Never forget."

The long hands released him and Penn slumped back in his wooden seat. "To think that Leshia first born of House Les'staani has chosen you as her Faith Partner" Bacqio shook his head. The Speaker stepped back ran his hands through his dark hair and smoothed his robe. The placid face had returned.

The speaker turned to go and then paused to look back "I should think her young brother Vince will be very interested to learn that you have been chosen. "The Speaker smiled and then walked out followed by the echoes of his footsteps.

His ring mail clinked softly as Penn sighed. He pushed the black steel helm back and scratched his scalp again. The embroidered crimson cloak rippled in the breeze as Penn stared at the path leading into the trees. His long fingers fidgeted with the peace knot over his wooden dagger.

So here I am. Dressed up to go into the Holy Grove of elfdom, sweating like a pig, wearing a wooden dagger I am strictly forbidden to draw, seeking answers from an attractive female who can freeze people with her mind. Wonderful. I'll tell her I have a big cock and we'll live happily ever after.

Penn wiped his wet forehead, sighed and began walking. He penetrated the ring of trees, boots crunching softly on the white gravel. Penn felt the heavy silence of the Grove immediately.

The trees had an oppressive patience. Stopping, Penn looked up following curving boughs and twisting limbs in their graceful battle for light. Penn shook his head and started forward again.

A few explanations are due. Faith Partners. Speaker Bacqio believes that Faith Partners are the keys to the Elven success in finding a perfect balance and harmony. You find this equilibrium by bonding the Art with steel. This harmony provides racial dependence and unity, which creates a force. A force of family, if you will. Each of you needs the other. A mind without the body fails. A body without the mind is useless. 'Look to the other to find the shadow of selflessness. Together the tree swells, the flower blooms, and the fruit ripens.' Age 3 of the Elven Way. The cute little method to becoming a Faith partner is through rites of passage and a lovely Vow ceremony. I would rather babble endlessly to a mute animal then take my vows to another elf. I am a weak person, what can I say? Plus, I hear the tests are as fun as shaving a hungry bear's ass. Regardless, I need to talk to Leshia and fix it before.

Too soon, the trees and path ended opening into a small clearing. Penn removed his boots before stepping out onto the lush green grass, lifted his head and saw her. A breeze rippled her gown, revealing the naked curve of a calf. Clearing his throat, Penn decided the surroundings were safer. So, he looked around the Grove. On his right, was an enormous tree, the white trunk erupted from a mass of knotted roots to arc up into the blue sky with strength. It sent out branches right and left that were as large as the trees that he had just passed. To the left, was a dead tree, hollowed and gray with most of the major limbs rotted and snapped lying like bones at the foot of some unspeakable cave.

Penn's nostrils flared as he neared Leshia. She was smoothing her gown. It was then that he noticed it was only mesh gown. Penn felt his throat and crotch tighten.

She turned slightly pushing out her chest to face him fully. He could not help, but stare. The dark spots of her nipples stared back from beneath the gown. His throat had grown dry and his Adams apple began bobbing rapidly. "Now that I have your attention" Leshia said dryly crossing her white arms over her chest. Penn felt the heat rushing to his face "well I didn't expect you come out in the I-spy-my-nipples gown."

The dancing buzz of pain brought some sense back. Plus, Penn pictured himself breaking a rotten branch over her head. Smiling, Penn bowed "So, I'm truly flattered that Leshia Vis'staani has asked the thin Houseless peasant Penn to be her Faith Partner, but being that I have such nice skin I will decline." Leshia's aquiline face paled and pointed ears reddened "So, the great Pennumbra is all tongue and no cock." She sighed heavily and dropped her head, blonde tresses falling over her face.

Suddenly, Leshia's head snapped up, blue eyes dilated "well I have to taste your strength" she murmured. And then her mouth was on his. Lips softly embracing his. He felt a flash of cold fear then a warm buzz as her tongue began to move in his mouth. He found himself responding to her as his tongue flicked into her. Her mouth became more insistent pressing hard onto his. Penn began to feel a pressure around him. Clenching him, pushing on him. Leshia's lips pushed harder and the force increased on his temples and chest. Nausea flashed before his eyes in yellow spots and then something stretched and broke in his head with a painful snap. He heard Leshia gasp and reel back from him. And then he was falling, falling, down into the clutching darkness.

The Zoo. He was in the Zoo. The large yellow bird watched from within the cage with familiar blue eyes. The Eloree was in front again with his bloody sign 'God has to be sleeping'. The olive skinned figure was shouting, mouth opening obscenely wide, yet no sound emerged. Penn could feel the anger rise like a hot tide. He snapped out a quick punch and the Eloree shattered as if made of glass. Penn felt pain in his hand. He looked down and watched as the shards stuck in his hand began entering his skin. Penn tried to scream, but he could not find his voice. He could not move. He could not run. He watched the pieces sliding under his skin, moving through his body like slivers of fire. Desperately, he looked up to see the bird simultaneously start screaming and pumping it's head. The long neck bent impossibly with every pump beak opening to release the short screaming gasps. It would not stop. It kept going, endlessly, as if some invisible blade kept being thrust into it.

Penn came to and thought his head was on fire. The bird's screams were still echoing in his head when he realized they had never ceased. It was the same staccato scream as the dream.

Penn rolled onto his stomach feeling the chain links peel off his back. He opened his eyes and found the yellow spots were still there, but the sun had moved down to touch the top of the trees.

His head seemed to pulse in time with the screams, but Penn managed to stand up. His helmet was gone and his chest was still throbbing when he finally mustered to the courage to look toward the screams.

He saw an elf's naked round ass cheeks flexing as he thrust bodily into the woman lying beneath. Penn focused a little more and saw that the woman was Leshia. Her gown had been torn off and was cast aside, and she was limply lying underneath with her legs spread wide.

Her body was completely still, but her voice, gave a short scream with every thrust.

The impact almost knocked Penn out again, but he fought it off and looked down at Leshia.

He looked up just in time to see Vincent Vis' staani thick shoulder slam into him. Penn head's snapped back and he was falling again. His vision darkened a moment then cleared again. Vincent was above him his long blonde hair tangled with twigs and leaves. He was shouting something at Penn mouth opening and closing like a black circle of promise. Vincent's face was pinched tight and white as a sheet.

Then Penn felt steel pressed against his face. Penn knew what that meant and began struggling and sobbing. Vincent just stared at him with that white face seamless and calm, but his pale blue eyes were wide. Hot fire leaped across his forehead and then Penn felt water running down his face. Everything faded in and out.

Penn saw the white face show the dagger to him. It was red now, but Penn didn't understand why. Penn ceased to resist which caused the white face a pause.

Something was building in Penn's stomach, growing, climbing up into his chest like a mob of angry bees. A second line of fire seared across Penn's cheek. More water flowed. The swarm in Penn's chest grew. The white face showed the steel again. It was covered red.

Red. Red as the Eloree's letters. Red as my cloak. Red as the fear running down my face.

The steel came towards him again and then the tension broke in Penn's chest. Penn screamed. The scream erupted, arching Penn's back, wild and desperate. Sound pouring out in a furious flood. Penn saw the white face was leaking red now too.

"Yes, you are ready. You feel it too" said an impossibly deep voice. The other hand fell back to stirring the bright coals. Sweat dropped from a thick black beard in beads of reflected orange as the short figure turned back to the blazing stone opening. The squat naked form gleamed in the hellish light as it rhythmically thrust the iron prod into the furnace. The fire spat sparks and pulsed flame under the disturbance. Shadows followed the light flickering across the smith's bared head and torso reaching for the empty stone walls. The large face turned back to the metal in hand and raised his shaggy eyebrows.

"Yess. Yes, pain is part of it" said the deep voice "You know that now, but fear. . . fear is the real enemy is it not?" The callused hand prodded the fire again setting off the shadows and flames. The coals darkened to red. "Yes red, red like roses of a virgin" and with that the metal was plunged into the furnace.

". . . unacceptable and outrageous. The Maker has not been active in centuries!"

A hot flash pulsed across Penn's forehead causing his breath to hitch even as the tight voice continued "He sits in the darkness singing simple songs of the past and you come in here with this for him."

I know this tune. Bacqio. Silence can often get mystery to bare her breasts. Being that I'm expert on breasts. Riiiight.

A husky female voice answered "I'm not really certain Speaker Bacqio being that I am not as intimately familiar with The Way as you. However, I seem to recall something I read 'The way of Makers mark is as true as the deep root is strong as sad as the mountain stone crying for the past, yet feeding the future that is The Way.' " Penn felt the keen silence tighten like pain on his face as Jessendra continued "Forgive me Speaker perhaps I misread I shall tell the Maker his gift has been rejected and-" The Speaker's voice cracked "No! No, Jesendra" slippered feet shuffled "You are correct. Please forgive me." A long sigh exhaled and Bacqio's voice sounded very thin "It's just that . . . he is houseless and I just spoke with House Les'staani and was able to come to a ah-viable settlement. A brother and sister found naked and unconscious in the Grove with a houseless student whose face has been cut to shreds. Rampant rumors of ancient orgies followed by sacrifice and-"

Penn opened his eyes to catch the last hint of exhaustion vanish from Bacqio's narrow face.

The Speaker cleared his throat and adjusted the large emerald brooch on his chest. The gray eyes were calm when they locked with Penn's "Clarence Francis Pennumbra, Neophyte of the Crimson guard you are hereby dismissed from The Way on suspicion of attempted rape, assault and conduct unbecoming-"

And now you know the riddle of my name. Long labor is the answer to that one. Long labor and big head. So my mother's displeasure I wear only as a badge of formality.

"-a true student of The Way. Therefore, Clarence Francis Pennumbra's name is to be silenced at dawn tomorrow. His name will be erased from mind and mouth utterly and with bladed finality." Penn just stared at the large green stone on the Speakers chest, the beautiful badge of his office. It shimmered in the light from the window in little dazzling bursts. His face throbbed dully almost in time with the flashes from the gem.

"Penn" Bacqio began "what really happened in The Grove?" Penn shifted his eyes up to the

Speaker's face "I could send a few letters to help ease the-? " Bacqio's long eyebrows arched

Penn started to laugh, but it quickly turned into a hacking cough and made his face pulse madly.

Grimacing, Penn fought back the pain "So, the effete Speaker of the Elven Way boots Penn out and then asks to ease this poor peasant's suffering with some fucking letters? Why don't you ask me to send my penis in a box to my mother and keep my balls as a complimentary necklace to go with that beautiful emerald? The question does surprise me though, I would have thought the all knowing Bacqio would rather take a dump on his mother's head than ask a favor of a houseless peasant. Buut, after finding two naked siblings sharing semen in the Holy grove of Elfdom who knows what love will bring. "

Penn cocked a smile and noticed the corners of the Speaker's eyes tighten and the narrow face drain of all color. Suddenly, he was being lifted off of the bed, the Speaker's words coming in a hot rush "How dare you speak to me in such a manner! I would have let them leave your small little face in bloody ribbons. I would have gladly spit in that crimson mess, but I let them put your face back. I let them." The Speaker's long hands were impossibly strong as they began to shake him with each final word "And . . . now . . . you . . . say . . . this . . . to . . . me!" The world was flashing white to red, white to red, white and red roses of concussion blossoming across his eyelids with each shake. Penn's face was numb now, but he thought he heard his own cackling laughter squeeze out between jerks until blanketing blackness came.

Penn felt warmth, a warmth that he struggled up to raggedly. His eyelids were heavy as he opened them. Only, the white roses remained on his eyes as he tried to regain focus. The blurry light hurt causing him to squint. A cool breeze touched his face bringing an awareness of his throbbing face. Penn groaned. "You are a strange fellow" said a soft voice. Penn recognized Jessendra's sensual tone, but instead of looking at her he opted to stare out the open window and said "And why is that?" Penn heard her get up, robe rustling softly she walked to the window, blocking his view. Penn stared as the large woman glided into his line of sight.

Ahh, Jessendra, a student and a large one at that who carries herself with understanding, with the smooth folds of confidence in voice and movement. She is a daughter of a wealthy house, possessor of an obnoxiously strong gift of Heal. Blue Healing and Blue sky all made for Jessendra. Respect curls around her like silken scarf despite her size. It's pretty amazing and disgusting all at once.

Jessendra kept her back to him. Penn saw that her black hair was tied up in some strange knot that no doubt took hours to do, he smirked. Her voice drifted back to him "You seem to understand what goes on around you, are able to grasp the balances of power and even display occasional flashes of intelligence and yet?" Penn opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as Jessendra snapped up an index finger. He stared at the mound of dark hair twisting and turning on the back of her head. Her wide blue robed back was still to him.

Jessendra's large hand began carressing the windowsill "yet you disregard any hand stretched out to help you. I taught you how to move, to shut your loud mouth and listen. So you could hear the Voice within you, but . . ." Her large hand stopped moving and she turned brown eyes flashing as they looked with his "You make war with your words against all comers valuing the shock and surprise despite being left bloody again and again." The big eyes were moist "instead of avoiding conflict you court it. And for what!" Jessendra threw her hands up sending a ripple through her voluptuous bosom. Penn couldn't help, but smile, despite the splitting pain it caused his scabbed face. Jessendra's round face flushed as she took an aggressive step towards the bed "Do not think this game is over Pennumbra. Oh no, it's only just begun." A great sigh hissed from her large frame "Regardless, sadistic idiot or artistic freak, as Healer to the Maker, I come on notice that you have been marked." Jessendra's hand flicked something at Penn. He squeezed his eyes shut only to hear something hit the wood next to him. Cautiously, Penn opened one eye.

Jessendra was gone. He looked at the chair next to the bed and saw a large black bladed dagger embedded in the wood.

The past is an awful thing . . .

He moved quietly to the table and poured some of the dark brown liquid into a small steel cup.

Downing most of it with a grimace, he moved toward the open window. Goose bumps rose on his naked body with the stiff breeze so, he took another drink.

"Please Baby, close the window and come back to bed mommy's cold," said a husky voice.

An expensive view bared the city's buildings before him in sprawling splendor.

The sun dripped slowly down glazing the buildings with a deepening orange.

"Have you ever been to Ceth before Baby?" she asked while rustling the sheets with her feet.

His thin arm snapped, hurtling the cup out into the air. It flashed once in the dying light and fell out of sight.

Five years . . .

Five years, since the Silencing when a whole school erases your name forever you have a tendency to not pay attention to time, the whore. Forgive the pun given my present circumstances, but time eventually fucks all of us. But I did one up the School and their stupid Walk of Silence.

Sigh.

Later, later I'll explain it to you later. I'm busy right now can't you see?

Long fingers drew the window closed and with a deep breath he turned.

"It's been a while," he said moving back to the bar. The hand shook for a moment then steadied as the liquid gargled out into a new cup.

"What did you say your name was again, Baby?"

He drank and then looked at her, blonde hair awry, nipples erect through the white sheet.

"I used to have a name," he lifted the steel rim and took another sip "just call me Joe." She giggled for a moment then beckoned him with red nailed hand.

"Ok, whatever. Come on, Baby. Mommy ain't got all night and I'm freezin. Come warm me up Baby," she pulled back the sheet.

The curving calves moving to swelling thighs and up, and up, into sweet oblivion.

Penn smiled, a warm buzz pulsing at his temples, and got into bed.

Hell is a great place when you're payin'.

Gone? Yes, ladies and gentlemen she is gone. And please save your judgements on prostitution for the church. My mom saved hers and left my dad for a man of God. 'Nothing like holy dick' she said to me once over a bottle of liquid oblivion.
The sun was gone now and the moon was high when Penn walked down the gravel path. His soft boots made no sound on the moonlit rocks.

Goose bumps rose as the roar of silence took over his senses. His movements sang through his muscles unconsciously. The liquid thoughtlessness of instinct flowed and the sound fled.

It was one of the few unquestioned things, maybe the only one. Penn called it the Shadow Walk.

He only stumbled once when he stepped into the aviary. The crunch of the iridescent rocks echoed eerily off of the rusted cage. Penn kept waiting for that damn yellow bird to fly out, but nothing moved beyond the shadowy bars. The dead tree remained twisting to the sky like a desperate hand.

Penn wiped the sweat off his forehead and stiffly turned his back on the cage and scraped and scuffed his way to the mammals.
And there she was.

The yellow eyes watched unblinking, round pupils wide, almost expecting. The twin triangle ears pushed forward, long black muzzle pointed right at Penn. He was always amazed at her size as he stared at the massive shadow striped by the cages' teeth. A large sigh eased out of Penn as he leaned against the rotted railing. "Well Anna, I've come back to you once more my dark lady" Penn said with an ivory grin.

Well what do you expect? She is man's best friend after all, I mean a giant wolf is close enough.

Ahhhh, stick to the prostitute people!

"I know I've been gone a few years, but I haven't forgot you and have been utterly faithful. Er-I should say I have meant to be utterly faithful besides they don't listen very well and . . . " the words came then in a cleansing rush, pouring out continuously. The moon gradually dipped her head low and disappeared when the words finally slowed. Penn rubbed his eyes and noticed that the sky was lighting towards dawn.

Penn scratched his side, readjusted his back against the splintered pole and re-crossed his long legs and said "So, mom got Joined to the Holy prick, I mean Ricc, and my dad died in the line of duty three days ago and . . . I've come home for the Parting. "

The golden eyes shifted, pupils dilated and Penn was rolling. He came up in a crouch, black dagger out and his other hand on the hilt of a silver one.

"You never talked this much when you were in bed with me. I guess I wore you out," said a sensual voice. "Besides, you never lasted when I talked to you."

"Je-Jessendra?" Penn's mind reeled.

"The Naked Walker has returned to Ceth. Did you know that they eliminated the Walk of Silence after your fiasco?" She threw her big head back and laughed huskily. "Good thing you have a big dick or the only embarrassed person would have been you," Jessendra said sweetly pushing a lock of brown hair back from her eyes.

Penn's face was on fire as he absently sheathed his daggers.

"You've become quite the popular figure over the past five years" she continued as if nothing unusual had been said. Jessendra sauntered out from behind a tree her wide body into the coming dawn with a smile. Penn's eyes flicked over the low cut gown. Jessendra cupped her ample bosom "I see your appetites have grown."

Penn flushed again causing Jessendra to laugh even more "Come and have dinner with some people I know and I'll forget that I saw you for a few days."

I need a drink

"Don't worry" Jessendra said sweetly "I brought you one."

"Welcome home Penn" she said softly while passing him a silver flask.

"Shit" was all he could mutter while the yellow eyes watched him go.

They clustered around the One-eyed Unicorn inn like flies. Flies filled with waiting and gleaming with resolve. The Eloree stood and sat waiting to be served. The only movement came from the red- faced owner waving his bloated hand wildly as if he did not like the smell. His two chins playfully giggled while obscenities poured out from just above staining any possible humor, "I have always treated ya'll right here. Just had to come to the back to get yer food. So, ya'll choose to peacefully fuckin protest mah place. Now no one wants to come here. I shoulda had mah fucking head checked, servin Chunts." His slanted eyes swivel around looking for a response, "Did ya hear me? Ya bunch a Chunts!" The word echoes around the wooden rafters. Pointed ears flushing to match his sweating pate, the innkeeper stalked out into the street and the Eloree turned back to their empty plates. Penn noticed, with a surprising surge of sympathy, that there were a few Elves in the group.

My mother calls those, of the People, who support the Eloree 'the intrepid idiots.'

I find sleeping with your brother's wife a lighter ass beating than supporting the Eloree, but that's just me . . .

Penn's ears caught the jingle of steel approaching steel and he quickly pulled up his hood and moved back into the shadows of the alley. They marched quickly and precisely crimson cloaks snapping with their timed movements. A wall of the Crimson Watch formed before the One-Eyed Unicorn. The final clash of metal pulsed as the sun teased gleams off a sword, shield, and helm. The waiting returned. A white horse moved into view hooves clicking on the cobblestone. The innkeep waddled below her with a long smile creasing his face. The rider's long luxurious blonde hair fell over a glittering green cloak in familiar ringlets as she pulled up on the reins. Penn saw the flash of crisp blue eyes.

Oh shit . . .

Her voice rang out clearly "Workers of Eloree. We understand your unrest and you must trust that the Council of the People is working to find restitution for your needs." Penn shrank back further into the shadows as fear seeped out in beads of sweat, but his eyes never left her. She continued smoothly "However, we do require you disband immediately and allow these issues to be addressd through the proper measures."

Leshia . . .

He could see her face, her face . . . the sharp jaw-line, the wide face, her naked body flashed before him as he felt her focus sharpen. The curve of her breast, the slow smooth arc of her thigh all quickly raced across his mind. Penn was sweating freely now and he felt the desire rise within him when he saw a wrinkle appear between her eyes. The hair rose on the back of his neck and he had a sudden impulse to walk out into the street. Penn felt the air press down around him and he heard her husky voice ring out "Please, disband." Some of the Eloree looked around as if confused and began slowly shuffling out of the door. Penn's temples pulsed. She was stronger than before much stronger, but so was -- she turned toward the alley.

Penn gritted his teeth and focused the images and the emotions into the darkness. He focused on slowing the breathing, stretching the air in and out until his mind sang to the sweating shadows. The shadows moved closer, embracing him, and Penn felt Leshia's attention flag and move away. The silk of her voice continued "So, please move along and those of the People who participated if you could remain, but a moment."

The soldiers were efficient circling in a band of red. They're crimson cloaks giving to crimson strokes and screams of submission.

Penn did not want to look anymore. The sounds were enough, the fist to flesh, steel on bone, the helpless screams and cries squeezed his spine. The ruthless desperate begging, pleading in any ineffable way for mercy. And then Penn was running, running from the rings and screams of red, and from the tears spilling down his face.

Composure came slowly. The white washed buildings faded to brown ones. Penn began feeling the looks "Welcome to the Washing District" Penn muttered raising his gray hood, "where I am the outcast."

The Washing District . . . where they wish to wash the noble Elves, the hulking Eloree, and the flaxen haired Calapree into one big meatball of ethnicity. My mother used to say "the Calapree fish, the Eloree labor and the People nod and know the world is aright. So, keep your ass out of the District after dark. Ah, mother . . . did I tell you she writes poetry?

The sun was high exposing the pocked mark structures clutching at each other for support. The yellow heat augmented the sharp stench of excrement and garbage piled at the base of the houses creating a consistent garden of shit. Young Eloree openly stared at him with gray glinting eyes. Penn sighed, "I'm going to get my ass beat" he whispered into his chest, "why am I here again?" Luckily, the Happy Eunuch was close. Penn eyed the warped doorway slowly popping each knuckle. Smoke trailed out of the dark entrance twisting up and out into the air like desperate fingers. He continued staring at the open black slab of darkness wondering what the hell he was doing, but before his brain could get in the way walked in.

Jessendra had been very specific in her reasons "A happy commonality of grounds is a great reason to meet."

Plus, she had mentioned that they were buying and had played the titty fairy for me for about an hour. Okokok O.K. it was only 15 minutes. Anyway, I could do her this favor and meet these wierdos.

Penn kept his hood up ignored the tables to his right and went straight to the bar. "I'll have shot of Talabree and a flagon of goat piss," Penn said lightly.

The barkeep turned slowly wiped his thick fingers on a dirty apron and produced a clay bottle and slammed it on the diveted bar. "First, Mr. Wise Ass that'll be 3 Lockes," the bartender ran his hand through his oily flaxen hair before holding it out. Penn snorted "4 Lockes it is" and pulled out 4 red bills and placed them on the bar. "You don't hear too well do ya" the man said pouring the yellow liquid into a dirty wooden cup. "Sure I do" Penn said downing the shot with a grimace "3 for the drink and one for the bath." The blonde Calapree stared back without blinking. "About that flagon?" Penn said flashing another Locke. "Keep your money ya pointy eared prick" growled the man "table in the back second room on the right" and then portly man walked away.

Penn mused on how the hell the bartender knew his heritage as he walked to the back room. He entered the room with a flourish and a bow. Three hooded figures jumped in unison as Penn casually threw his hood back grabbed a wooden chair, turned and straddled it like a horse. The two cloaked figures on the left regained their composure first which indicated to Penn that they were probably women.

'Posture and presence are all most women have' My mother used to say and then she would smack my elbows off the table

The figure on the far left pulled back her hood without hesitation. Long thick orange hair spilled out framing a fair skinned face. Her face was wider than most with stronger bones, but still possessing the Elven presence. Her emrald eyes calmly met his and she nodded. "You are half elf," Penn thought aloud. Her eyes flashed, muscles rippled across her jaw line, but she held her tongue. For whatever reason he flushed, "No, no that's not what I meant I-" but the words ceased when she smiled. Full lips pulling back in a perfect crescent of ivory.

Damn it.

Penn broke the gaze, noticed the far right figure's white knuckled fists on the table, likely the man of the group. The figure next to the red head sighed heavily and pulled back the hood revealing a woman with dark brown hair that was short and silky. She smelled of nobility with the fair skin high cheekbones and erect posture. Her golden eyes bored into his and Penn felt her will touch his mind. Penn's eyes dilated and he growled instinctively whipping out the Maker's mark. The black blade was barely out of his sheath when the red hair and the white knuckled figure simultaneously drew steel and in a blur Penn knew he was going to die. "NO" screamed the noble woman leaping up holding both of her slender arms out wide "he meant no harm."

"I'm a little confused," came a low calm voice of the male that belied the blade paused at Penn's throat "he drew steel and then you say he meant no harm. That makes about as much sense as this gentleman being Marked." The red haired woman lowered her blade from Penn's stomach and said "Portia?"

Penn's eyes shifted from the point at his throat to the golden flecked eyes, waiting.

Portia sighed, "What I meant to say is that I attempted to probe him and he . . . resisted. And for that Pennumbra, I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me. It's just that you weren't what I was expecting and the old training dies hard," her thin lips pulled back into a hesitant smile. Penn warily watched the red head, trying to take in the fact that she stood over six foot four and moved like a cat, to say nothing of white knuckled Bob with his family heir loom against his throat. Not good. "Sure," Penn said while staring down the curved blade. Portia lowered her arms and smoothed her white robe, "Please forgive my friends. Care can make one hasty. I have asked you all here today with hope. Let us not begin with bloodshed on the account of my indiscretion." Penn flicked his gaze to the hooded figure's dark eyes and did not blink when he spoke, "Like I said, sure." The stare dragged out for a writhing moment. Then the man slowly reached up and pulled back the brown hood. A surprisingly young Elven face stared back. His high forehead wrinkled as his dark brown eyebrows went up "Any day." Ice blue eyes placidly looked at him and turned his back on Penn and slid the blade casually back into the sheath.

Everyone jumped again as the red head burst out laughing. It was a full laughter free and loose like a flock of wild birds flying up into the sky and it was right from the belly. The sound made you smile whether you wanted to or not. Her head was thrown back thick neck rippling.

And everyone was smiling "well Pennumbra," said Portia gold eyes glowing, " I am Portia. You've already met Ro'ja" she gestured to the asshole to the right. "The laughing one is Allura. We have a proposition for the Naked Walker . . . "

It was raining. Penn distantly felt the big cold drops spatter on his dark cloak. He stared up at the expressionless gray sky. Penn was soaked. He was soaked with rain and the waiting.

The waiting had dulled his sense of time to a crawl. The ceremony of Parting would begin soon. Penn pulled up his hood, took a last look at the scarlet vase glistening on top of the headstone, and walked away. He moved upwind picking a huge statue of some faceless dead elf and crouched down behind it. He huddled against the wide stone base attempting to find some cover from the rain and so he could watch the Passing without being readily seen.

I heard somewhere that you should not let irony rule your life that you should just note it and use it to your benefit. I also heard that if you flap your arms really fast, you can fly like one of those fat pigeons that are always shitting on buildings.

The Speaker of Passing was a tall white clad figure that walked solemnly in front of the procession. His hands were pressed together in front of him in a long steeple of fingers. The wet robe clung to his wide chest and shoulders as water beaded on the close cut beard. A ridiculously long cavalcade of people followed. Penn doubted if most of these folk actually knew his father, but he grudgingly admitted that his father had been known for honesty and fairness which was rare. All were arranged around the headstone now, when a clear voice rang out "Edden Pennumbra has Passed. He was a hard man, harder to know, and even harder to love, but there was an honesty in everything he did. The Way says 'Passing moves beyond site and sound and carries one forward to an everlasting summer. Those who remain must face the dark winter of emptiness.' We who are left must, however, take solace in the knowledge that the seasons will wheel and turn, but we will see those who pass before us again. "

The religious man paused, eyes glinting as he stared at the soggy people. Dark beard dripping he continued "Honesty, the integrity to share the truth. Something we seem to lose along the path to adulthood. When Edden spoke, he spoke the truth. We should all endeavor to be closer to the truth."

Calmly, the tall elf bent down grasped the crimson vase and held it above his head. He jerked his hands down suddenly. The vessel exploded against the headstone in a great cloud of gray and then a gust of wind kicked up dowsing the congregation and the Speaker of Passing in wet ashes.

Penn couldn't help, but laugh. He laughed long, hard and loud. His laughter burst out and kept coming and coming until his stomach began cramping. He kept laughing wildly and desperately when a great gust of rain splattered his face and brought him back.

Penn flinched, froze and then slowly got his feet and said "Shit ma, don't do that"

Her hand smacked his face with sodden impact. "Don't curse at me. I'm still your mother," she said. Her long blonde hair was plastered to her face and her slanted eyes were swollen and red.

Penn felt the blood gather in his mouth warmly and he smiled at her "Nice to see you too ma."

The hand came again accompanied by a flash of white this time. "Guilt is great huh ma" he said flashing the gory grin again. She swung at him, but Penn caught it and said "No more, mother."

Her big blue eyes locked with his. Penn stared back flatly and then dropped her limp hand.

Then she started forward and fell onto him clutching and sobbing. Her small hands gripped painfully as he held her. The shock of her tears cut him to silence.

The rain trailed off and eventually Penn's mother stopped crying. They just sat there sitting apart for a long while until she said "How long have you been back?"

Penn stared row upon row of headstones with flowers placed sporadically throughout the gray lines, "Two days."

"Don't do it Penn," she slid closer grabbing his hand, "whatever it is that has brought you back. Penn, please just leave."

Penn yanked his hand away and stood up, "and I suppose me coming back had nothing to do with my father dying."

She gave a long sigh "You said yourself you didn't know him. You knew his rules and that was it. You didn't know him didn't want to. You said that Penn, not me. Besides you sealed any chance with him when you got banished from the School."

Penn flushed, "Yeah but I didn't start humping the religious man of the city to get away from him. I just left," he said evenly. She flinched, tears began welling up "but he was so hard to know Penn. You have to understand. He never wanted to do anything, but work. We didn't go to any celebrations, any gatherings. After a while we didn't even sleep together anymore."

Swallowing twice she said "Penn, I love you. No matter what has happened, but please don't do whatever it is that has brought you back."

Penn turned back and looked at her "Save it, mom." He began walking away, then stopped and turned "oh, tell Steph hello, and tell him the ceremony was great. Dad would have would have been impressed in spite of himself."

Penn slouched against the splintered post, "Did you know that my father never once came and watched me run?" His hand slipped and he fell to the ground. "Shit," Penn said sighed staring at the full moon. "Not once," he said wiping his eyes. He took a long pull from the bottle spilling most of the brown liquid on his chain shirt. "Aww shit," Penn sat up slowly. He looked over and found the yellow eyes watching. "Anna, I could run the Stretch. I could run. I had a chance. A real chance to run for, for, money, you know?" Penn stared at the black wolf, "why the fuck do I come here and talk to a big black dog who can’t even SPEAK?" He staggered up, thrust his jug at the moon, "I didn’t even get to see him again, you fucks, you booted me out of your fucking school and he wouldn’t speak to me. He wouldn’t even fucking look at me!" The world spun, his knees buckled, and he fell again. He fought for a moment, gagging. He clutched himself and finally let go. The tears came and the sobs tore at awareness until it faded.

It was the waiting time. The area of suspension before everything begins and your thoughts wheel out over and over again. Glittering ideas flashing and falling like stars. Action is limp, but the mind whirls and the voices start:

….You’ve got no Art son, you think that weak shit is gonna get you through?

The door was there in that stuffy room. Penn could feel his fear. It was so real, flexing and twisting in the room with him. He could taste it in his mouth again. The sun watched through a window in hot streaks. The options rolled out before him, but he did the same thing, the same damn thing. It was all there . . .

Penn stared at his gleaming body in the mirror. A shaking hand wiped his forehead again. The Maker’s mark is all he would take. His eyes flicked to his clothes, the armor, the crimson cloak rumpled in the corner. There was still time. He could-the bell tolled, it’s melancholy tone echoing through the air. The door groaned as it opened and Penn was moving. The whole school was there in that long line of reds, blues and greens. They would turn as you walked by to erase your name, to banish you. After today I cease to exist to the Academy, Penn thought. Bacqio’s gray eyes were the first he caught as he emerged, naked into the light, and the smile rolled out. Well, the joke is on you shit birds, Penn thought and waved to the Speaker. A chorus of gasps sprang free. Penn was halfway down the line before they regained their composure and began to turn. His swagger did not falter until father stepped out into his path. The face was so calm, but the freezing blue eyes raged out at him. His face only twitched once when he struck Penn and then he turned. Penn’s mouth filled up blood and he spit it out and staggered forward. The numbness was already setting in as he stumbled out of the Academy. When his gaze cleared the yellow eyes where there, calmly watching, calmly waiting through the bars. Penn smiled once and said, "Hello Anna," vomited once and then passed out.

Penn awoke with a start rolled over on his side and retched. He got up leaning on the rotten fence. The lupine gaze was still there, watching, waiting almost knowing. His body went into spasms and he puked again. Wiping his pale lips, Penn grinned at Anna, "It’s a great way to lose weight."

"He’ll be here," said Portia softly. The tall elf rolled his eyes. Allura began to pace, her sword bouncing in time with each step. "Peace Allura, he will come," Portia said. Ro’ja stared at his Faith Partner’s long fingers twisting at each other, but he said nothing to Portia, just shook his head and waited.

Allura stopped suddenly, "There he is." They watched Penn walk stiffly out of a nearby alley.

"Hello, boys and girls I’ve come to pants the Elven nation." He flicked out his black dagger, "I’m gonna carve my initials on this city’s ass with this thing." Suddenly, Penn felt himself being lifted off the ground. He smiled down at Ro’ja’s flushed face, grimaced, and threw up on the angry elf.

Ro’ja dropped Penn, wiped the brown paste from his chain mail and stared hard at Portia.

Penn laughed and said, "You know every time you throw up you increase sobriety by two."

Allura giggled and helped Penn up as he continued talking, " So by that rationale, and the amount of vomiting I’ve done all the way here. I’ll be sober by the time we get there." He turned to look at Ro’ja just in time to see the tall elf’s fist crash into his face and the flash of white introduced the darkness.

"Allura look at him. He just vomited on me and he smells like 20 bears just pissed on him"

The silence stretched and Penn felt a tingle across his forehead. Allura cleared her throat and said, "I say we give him a chance."

"Why don’t we ask Penn if he’s ready?" said Portia. Ro’ja laughed, throwing his hands up, "Sure, why not? Let’s ask the Vomiter what he thinks."

Penn opened his eyes and stared into Portia intense eyes. She cocked one long eyebrow at him.

He got to his feet walked over to Ro’ja and looked him right in the face, "I’m in."

"Enough," flashed Portia’s voice, "We can wipe the slate clean in one fell swoop."

Her voice pulsed, "A chance to wipe the slate clean and begin again, to remove the form that has grown stagnant and perverse." She clenched her hands "A chance for all to move as one, to seek as each desires or at least to have an opportunity. The color classes: red, green, blue, Art or no Art will all blend." She lowered her hands, smoothed her long white robe, and stared at each of them, "For that chance, I will risk all."

For once, words escaped Penn. Allura turned to Penn with a toss of fiery hair and smiled.

A good fight is all instinct, luck and regret . . .

"It's a woman's world you just don't know it yet," Allura whispered. Penn flinched and turned to stare at her. She was so close. Her breath was warm on his face, big blue eyes boring in. “ . . . the distraction of expectation leads to the downfall of hope."

Words from The Way he had come to destroy. The line came unbidden to his mind and he turned and stared out from the trees. A small pedestal had been erected directly in the center of the clearing with a large green book sitting atop it.

Otherwise, the Grove was the same. The white gravel path cutting through the dense trees ended in the small clearing of lush grass where the two enormous trees still waited. Two large braziers illuminated the Grove sat in front of the great trees. The braziers were simple steel tripods that gave off a flickering pale orange glow.

They had stayed off the path and circled around to the left near the dead tree. Of course, the dead tree stank. Makes perfect sense, Penn thought, and the tree of death smells like a cow's ass. Dawn was still few hours off and the sky had begun to lighten from black to a dark blue and the stars were giving the last sparkling hurrah. His eyes moved back to the Way.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder jarring the thoughts away. Penn turned slowly and met Ro'ja's cold blue eyes. He was amazed at how the same color could be so different on two people; sky blue to ice blue; the promise of trust to a promise of death. Penn swallowed once and released a great gasp of air. Ro’ja quickly side stepped without blinking and said, "You have nothing to lose," Ro'ja inclined his head to the two waiting women, "I have everything."

What a schmuck. Why is it that those who have so many things always throw it up in people’s faces that have less?

"So . . . because I have less this is harder for you?" Penn sneered.

"No, no that's not what I meant, I just meant . . ."

"I know what you meant, and you're exactly why I'm here. Destroy the Way. No more noble Elven pricks like you. A clean slate."

Ro'ja stared at him hard for a moment and then smiled. Penn threw his hands up in disgust and stalked off. A tingle pressed on his forehead and there was Portia, "It must be tough having people like you,” she said.

Penn looked at her trying to figure out if she was mocking him then shook his head. "I don't know anything anymore."

She got up slowly, smoothed her white robe, and said simply, "Yes you do," and walked off. Penn rolled his eyes and sighed. He should get as far away from these idiots as possible. Trust reminded Penn of the round little green vegetables his mother tried making him eat when he was small—nasty.

Enough, Penn thought and he began concentrating feeling for the shadows. The place where silence becomes a ringing roar and the darkness is absolute. He moved out on the flickering fingers of shadow set out by the braziers and was half way out in the open when he knew something was wrong. Perhaps it was his fear, or perhaps it was the fact that the most sacred and treasured of all Elven relics was just sitting out in the open without any protection whatsoever.

A slight pressure touched him near his temple and goose bumps rose on his arms. Penn started when he heard shouting and the clash of steel come from the woods behind him. His focus wandered and he began to turn back to his friends when the touch on his mind became a stab of pain. He fell to his knees gagging and fought the urge to vomit. Someone slapped him hard on the face. Penn’s eyes moved wildly, searching for an assailant, but saw no one. He was struck again driving the saliva from his mouth. Penn swiveled his head wildly, but the Grove was empty. The Way was just a few feet away when he saw a black leather hand strike his cheek.

His jaw was numb and his mouth was wet with red. Red like my cloak, Penn's mind thought idly, as the hand came in again and again. His mind continued to roam, red like angry love, blue with forgiving sighs, and green . . . green, green is for . . .

At some point Penn realized it was his own hand slapping him.

I'm sure this will be funny later, he thought as he stared at his betraying hand. It balled up into a fist and struck him in the mouth. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair as his left flashed into his eye.

Green is for bitch.

"I didn't know I could punch this hard," Penn muttered through bloody spittle.

"Oh, Vince could punch very hard," said Leshia. She was standing a few feet away. Penn looked at her as she held up her delicate hand she balled it into a fist and swung it. His own fist crashed into his stomach knocking the wind out of him. She walked casually up to him green robe rippling on her body. "But, since the last time we were here in the Grove together, I have to feed Vincent instead of fuck him." She brought her hand up again and slashed the air. Penn’s hand smashed into his face again with a flash of white.

“Your mind is so weak. So easy. So easy to push,” she said. Penn watched in horror as she curled her hand into a fist his fingers tightened into a fist. Her hand swung and his knuckles collided with his face. “I thought it would be appropriate that you should be unable to move just like him” she said.

“Your body not your own, lifeless and wasting away. Soiling your own sheets” Leshia clenched her fingers again and executed a precise uppercut. Penn’s nose gave off a resounding crunch and Penn felt like he had warm water running down his face. His hand began to throb with pain.

“The Healers could do nothing for him, the best Healers of Ceth. All they could tell my family is that Vincent was broken.” Leshia laughed sadly and grabbed Penn’s head and kissed him.

Her tongue moved within his mouth and Penn began to choke. She pulled back and spat on him, "you taste like houseless wretch." Leshia placed a long finger on his forehead and traced the scar, "the things that could have been . . ." she sighed, "You have had your uses though, I must say." She gave a limp-wristed wave to the clang of steel and screams that echoed from behind her.

"What desperate imbeciles would trust you?" she chuckled softly, "To think I found you attractive, but then again you did bring them to me?" Her mouth was on his again suffocating and insistent. She stepped away licking his blood off her chin and lips.

Leshia began to walk around Penn slowly. "I am surprised that you would think we would let The Way just sit out in the Grove—especially after the Fall." She stopped behind him and grabbed his butt, "Really Penn, I would have thought you more intelligent than that."

A pulse of force reverberated out from the trees. Leshia pursed her lips and looked back behind her and sighed, "Perhaps the leader is established in the Art." She glanced back at Penn with a shy smile, "Don't go anywhere love," and then she turned and walked towards the battle. Penn watched the sway of her hips and cursed.

His head was throbbing and he was helpless.

Penn could feel his face aching, his lips were puffy and his right eye had swollen shut.

His breath whistled out of his nose and his chest clicked when he exhaled. Everything hurt and he could not move.

All this way, he thought, to come so close to graduating. All the stares, the whispered words- Houselesssss, Artlesssssss. Wrong face at the wrong place at the wrong time and it was done.

All because he was trying to help a cute blonde, Penn sighed. So, he would use all the training all the knowledge of The Way to fight.

Penn began to laugh.

It began slowly but the laughter began rolling it in long bursts and soon his battered body was shaking and gasping tears running down his swollen face. His side screamed pain, but that only made him laugh harder.

Leshia stopped, turned and looked back her high brow wrinkled “What in the name of Ceth could be funny at a time like this?”

Penn’s laughter continued to roll out echoing across the Grove. Scowling Leshia angrily walked up to Penn “Enough,” she screamed slashing her hand in front of Penn’s face. Penn smacked himself and laughed even harder. Her face was blotched with rage and she took a deep breath

“I will crush you, lover.” Penn’s eyes flashed and Maker’s mark was out black blade glistening. He stabbed her in the stomach and twisted it as he removed it.

“The Art-less versus the Art path 3. ‘A sudden extreme reversal of emotion can break the string of concentration the Art has cast forth allowing momentary action.’ ”

Leshia’s look of absolute shock was priceless. “Oh, make no mistake bitch, I studied that section of The Way long and hard,” and with that Penn smiled and stumbled off towards the woods.

Gnarled fingers wiped a soft cloth across the glimmering surface of the blade and the image vanished. Jessendra sighed and looked away from the sword. “The Sword of Sight sees all of his dark daughters,” said an impossibly deep voice. Jessendra turned to the speaker, “With respect Maker, Penn is weak, hung-over and listens to no one, least of all the Call.” The Maker brought the sword to bear between them. The weapon glistened in the orange furnace light. Jessendra stared at the unique sword. The blade was so clear that it seemed liquid. She stared at the iridescent blade until the surface quivered. Slowly a face appeared upon the blade. Penn’s purple and swollen face slowly solidified into a grimace of pain. The image pulled back and Jessendra could see Penn limping toward the tree line.

The Maker ran the black cloth across the blade again and the scene vanished. The short figure ran his hand over the sword in a caress, sighed and deftly snapped the long weapon into a black sheathe.

Jessendra bit her lip and forged ahead. - “Even with the Dark Daughter, your Maker’s Mark, Penn is ignorant of the-.“ Her words died abruptly when the Maker snapped up a white knuckled fist. “With respect Maker, I apologize.” Jessendra lowered her eyes and bowed. A deep chuckle echoed through the dark cave, “White begets black and the circle will continue, but Penn is gray.”

Jessendra, fighting hard not to roll her eyes at the riddle, kept her eyes on the floor. The Maker tugged on his long beard for a moment and then turned back to the ebbing fire of the furnace. He began stirring the fire slowly, methodically. Jessendra heard the finality in his words, bowed again and left silently.

After the echoes of her leaving had long faded, the Maker’s shaggy brow furrowed and he whispered, “It must be . . . –“

Penn was past pain. His body just didn’t work well anymore. He ignored the clicking in his chest and the cloudy vision. He coughed up a little blood and moved towards the woods. The song of steel rang frantically through the woods. Penn saw her first, the long red hair pulled back in Battle Knot, muscles flexing and bunching in the gaps of her chain shirt. Allura was magnificent, her fighting style was not.

She fought with brute force and efficiency, using a Peace Bar and a long sword. A Peace bar is a piece of metal shaped into a 3-foot rod that ends in an abrupt point. It is a weapon of the Kalapree, a sea faring people who claim the gray alloy to be made of SeaSteel; an unbreakable metal forged in the darkest depths of the ocean. All Penn knew was that it was obscenely heavy, twice as unwieldy and the perfect weapon someone who didn’t give two shits about style.

She faced three opponents with her back set firmly against a wide Oak. Penn hesitated when he the attackers were Eloree. He glanced right and saw Ro’ja crouched in front of Portia. Portia’s eyes were closed and her face gleamed with sweat while Ro’ja’s slanted blue eyes were wide and dilated. He moved impossibly fast, long hands blurring as he spun the curved blade back and forth. Penn could feel the power flowing into Ro’ja two beings moving as one. Disgustingly graceful, Penn thought, Faith Partners at their best.

Faith Partners channel the male and female together creating the Fatum, the secret behind the Peoples continual conquests in warfare.

But five to one, come on. A blade got through, slicing Ro’ja’s side, and blood splurted free from both Portia and Ro’ja. Penn sighed, drew a couple knives and threw them both at once. One almost hit Ro’ja in the head, but the other pierced an Eloree in the calf. The big fighter clutched his leg and wailed like strangled cat. The noise ceased as Ro’ja severed his head. Another Eloree turned his head as Penn released his second flurry knives. The first knife flew off into the trees while the second struck the Eloree’s face snapping his head back grotesquely.

Penn glanced back to Allura as a blade gashed her leg. She screamed in rage, but kept her weapons up and in front of her. Blood ran down her thigh.

Penn took in the scene suddenly as if he had just awoken. Allura was fighting 3 massive Eloree alone. 3 to 1 idiot, Penn thought, she’s good, but not in Fatum. The three sensed the moment and attacked simultaneously. The Peace Bar flicked out in a blur, with a ping of sparks, while her sword caught the 2nd blade. The third shattered her collarbone. Allura’s arm went limp and her sword fell. Everything went slow. Penn watched Allura casually bring the Peace Bar back across and splatter the Eloree’s head. Through the explosion of bone and brains, a blade slid into her stomach, but by then Penn had closed the distance.

He did not hesitate. The Maker’s Mark went in and then was jolted out of his grasp. He tackled the other one and bit something soft that gave way with warm wetness. Iron fingers grasped him, twisted him, and hurt him. Something enterd his mouth so he bit it. He felt the world go light and then there was a white flash and the ground pressed on him angrily. He could not breathe and then there was father.

Father was laughing and laughing. It had been so long since he had heard him laugh, but the laughter changed diving to a deep mocking pitch fille the shit of derision judgement. He was laughing so hard that red started spewing out of his mouth. Penn screamed.

And he realized there was someone on top of him. Penn could see out of his one eye that it was an Eloree. The Eloree was very upset with him, but there was something on his face, on his cheek. Penn thought it looked just like a tree. Penn tried to laugh, but couldn’t, so he passed out.

Sadly, the breasts moved away revealing a pale lined face above it. “Oh, you’re awake” Jessendra’s broad face peeled to a small smile, “ I was afraid I wouldn’t get here in time. It’s been two hours now and I thought I’d lost you.” Her dark hair glistened and she swayed a bit. “I’m a little tired now from mending you and the others,” she licked her lips slowly. Her deep brown eyes glazed over and she said softly, “did you ever know Penn that I really-“ The ample breasts pressed down onto his face. The moment of pleasantness passed when Penn realized he could not breathe. His body felt like boneless mass of flesh and he was so weak. Jessendra’s breathing deepened to the regularity of sleep.

Panic set in with grim teeth and Penn struggled helplessly only wedging himself further into the soft smothering crevasse. And suddenly the weight was gone. Ro’ja’s pale blue eyes glittered before him. Penn gasped and gobbled in the air. Penn was so happy to see him, at least, until, Ro’ja fell over laughing. The tall elf laughed and laughed until his ribs began bleeding again. Portia came over and shushed him by tightening the dressing on his side. Tears still running down his face, Ro’ja said, “The naughty nipple almost got you.”

“You loved her once didn’t you?” came Allura’s quiet voice. Penn blinked for a moment and with great effort rolled onto his side. The big blue eyes waited. “Who?” Penn said.

Penn looked at Jessendra’s sleeping form lying in between them. “I really liked her at one time, yes,” Penn said.

Allura said nothing and her breathing began to even out. Penn sighed impatiently, “ah what? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” allura said with a smile. “Nothing my ass,” was all he could manage.

She opened her eyes again. They were so big and blue. Penn got nervous, “what the hell are you trying to say? I don’t need some half breed dictating to me about what I do and don’t know.”
The eyes flashed and Allura’s voice drew out cold and slow, “Well, I found one of your strengths and it was right in front of me the whole time.” Despite the obvious agony Allura got up. Her leg began to seep red and her shoulder sagged like it was dead. “They were right about you,” Allura said. Penn’s stomach clutched, but he couldn’t help his mouth “oh yeah? How’s that?”

Someone started slowly clapping behind him, “Wow, you really know how to do it don’t you.”
Penn refused to roll over and face the voice, so Portia calmly walked around and faced him with those infuriatingly calm golden eyes. “We offer you this chance, this hand to make a difference and what do you do?” She raised a delicate hand up before her. The sun was coming, the dark skirts of night withdrawing to violet stripes of the days beginning. “You slap it away. Why?”

Penn chuckled hollowly, “I don’t know if you’ve been riding the pony of current events lady, but we just got our ass kicked.” Penn’s voice began rising, “There is no magic book. No Elven Way. Get it?” Penn gestured at the Grove and put the fist into his voice, “There’s a pretty little tree of Life on the left and then there’s the dead tree on the right that smells like a cow’s ass, oh, and a blank green book in between them. They got us. They suckered us out. The Prefects will come in here trace our auras and it’s over. They’ll track each of us down and we will get nothing, but a slow torturous death. We lose. They win.” Penn sighed, closing his eyes.

“The Prefects are the least of your concerns Penn. “I can only offer you the hand, but you have to take it,” Portia said, helping Jessendra to her feet. “I will leave you with this” she turned and faced Penn.

“This is not the end,” she said her voice calm and firm. “This is only the beginning. The dead tree must be cut down and a new one planted for all.” Portia looked up at the fading stars, “We do what we must to give that choice.”

She looked down at him, “The choice is what matters and if we have to take foolish risks to have even a chance . . .” A tear slid down her cheek, “ I will take it, every time.”

She wiped her face and smiled sadly, “You saved us all tonight. Good luck Penn.”

Ro’ja’s face appeared out of the fading gloom and he stared at Penn for a moment, nodded and then jogged off after Portia.

Ignoring his screaming body, Penn stood up slowly and stared at the brightening sky. This place would be crawling with the Crimson guard soon and then the Prefects would come and scour the area for auras and . . . Penn tried to let the thought go.

A new tree, Penn thought disgustedly, what kind of crap is that? Ooo, let’s plant a new tree and start over as if it was that simple. Penn snorted at the thought as his eyes fell on the dead tree. Like anything would be that simple —his eyes flicked to the beautiful tree on the opposite end of the Grove. Penn slowly drew the Maker’s Mark, it’s long black blade glistened darkly in the rising light.

The two great yellow eyes of Ana did not blink as the response pulsed inside of the Maker’s head.

“Then leave him. Else the cancer of conscience will,” the Maker picked up the wooden bucket and limped over to the furnace. The coals hissed angrily as the Maker doused the embers and a great cloud of smoke filled the cave.

The Maker curled his hand into a fist, “I’ve had 2 millenia of imprisonment to think of it.”
Shaking his head, the Maker dropped his hand and sighed, “I would spare him the agony of what he is to become.”

Penn stared at the Maker’s Mark. It seemed to twist in his grasp when he realized his hand was shaking. His thoughts whirled. The Maker, the shaker, the blues, the reds, and greens all collided in his head, a kaleidoscope of possibility that could be. His father’s dead eyes bored in, stabbing him again and again. His father’s callused hand drew wide and came across in a flash of white. He saw all of the Elloreans, eyes wide and waiting like hungry mouths, Ro’ja’s thin head bobbing up and down, and Allura laughing. Her laugh reached down and down and squeezed Penn’s heart until he gasped.

It was the tree of Life, the rich brown limbs reaching and aching for the sun. The shinning leaves rustled lightly in the breeze.

Penn looked, he looked beyond the tree, deeper, down into the roots.
The great sprawling roots, twisting and curling, gasping for water. It pushed the pale lines out, ferociously feeding, regardless. Its need tantamount.

Penn sighed, took a deep breath, and threw the Maker’s Mark right at the Tree of Life.
It exploded in a great searing ball of white.

The Maker felt it. He felt terror that had not touched him in eons, the cold shaking unknown of fear. He smiled for a moment until the white pulse roared into his cave, blowing everything apart.
The power struck him with such force he felt the bonds around him loosen and then give.
The Maker screamed as his skin seared away under the great blinding heat. His scream dropped in pitch and slowly began to deepen as the last of the bonds fell away. The skin on his back exploded outward with massive wings and his arms crackled and popped, growing suddenly. His legs ripped and stretched. The Maker’s mouth split impossibly wide then elongated into a saurian snout. Teeth sprouted from the maw, skin rippled with sudden scales, and the roar continued until it rang of triumph. The huge red dragon roared once more, green eyes blazing, and then leaped into the air with a gout of fire.

Penn was falling and falling. He could feel nothing and he could see less, until he saw those great yellow eyes bobbing towards him.

It was a simple question, so simple that it roared up in front of him like a great black wave, crushing him, tossing him back and forth, shaking him. The moment dragged out like an angry stare from a loved one.

Anna stood up and ran through Penn. He felt himself being sucked upwards. Penn’s face started twitching and he felt his body bend impossibly backward like a reed in the raging wind.

Cold stone was the first thing that Penn thought of as he became aware— cold stone, colder water, and the awful sensation of his testicles being bare on the frigid, damp stone.