AARIUS TOLD HIS story, and then he told it again. When King Terthil arrived, he was forced to tell it yet one more time. Terthil then stared at the bedraggled, half drowned appearance of the young man who told such a fantastic tale and produced that bemused belly laugh he was known for throughout the markets and faires.

"I suppose you will also have some incredible way of proving this, powerful magus you possess, for indeed if true you shall be a hero among the halls of the Reliquary."

"I have no need to prove it," Aarius scoffed weakly. "Not to you or any other for you shall all see it to be true in days to come. Medgar is a shadowbane. His power is no more."

"Tis true," the King mused out loud. "The Grellian fetchlings certainly have no doubt for they have all been freed of the spell which held them bound all these many years."

Aarius stared at Terthil as if he had suddenly grown two heads. "How can that be? Osador would never give up his grip over the children who have kept Medgar in power. No. You must surely be mistaken."

"One thing I am not, is mistaken," Terthil looked to the crowd who had tired of watching Medgar's mage burn like a festival hog and had gathered to get a look at the Grell who had survived certain drowning. Their faces mirrored the fact that Terthil was telling the truth. "Indeed, they have been freed. That much is true," Terthil mused out loud. The eyelid of his right eye quivered and twitched, as speculation caused a nervous reaction which had plagued him his whole life. "Is that also the point at which you yourself cast off your servitude?"

Aarius stood up shakily, still water-logged from his treacherous experience. "I was never held by Medgar's spells," he announced proudly. "His magic held no power over me."

A gasp escaped the lips of the immediate listeners and Terthil gave them all a scathing glare, but turned back to Aarius, his lips pursed. "I see. I must then ask, why did you wait so long to free yourself and the many other poor babes?"

"I didn't know," Aarius exclaimed passionately. "How was I to know?!"

"Perhaps you most assuredly knew but being the caitiff you are, gave not a whit for your Grell brothers and sisters."

Aarius was shaking his head.

The crowd began to rebuke Terthil and defend Aarius to which Terthil held up a finger to silence their disputes. "Well boy? What say you to this?"

"I could not free them," Aarius cried out. "For I held no power over Osador you see," he defended himself. "Like the Grells, I could do nothing!"

"Like the Grells," Terthil echoed. "What do you mean, like the Grells?"

"I, I am not a Grell," Aarius stated hesitantly.

"Not a Grell?"

Aarius shrugged. "I am not."

Merchants, Minstrels, and henchmen alike fell into dumbfounded silence. The women, who thrived on gossip all began talking at once, excited chatter filled Terthil's tent, but he snuffed out their prattling with a shout, giving Aarius a hard, cold gaze. He looked him up and down and his eyes narrowed to into thin slits. His thoughts ran rampant with this strange and unusual revelation. He wondered, for a moment if this too were one of Medgar's mages, one with exceptional intelligence. One trying to save his own life as the other had not been able to do. Perhaps even, Terthil thought, they had killed the wrong man. He decided to try a different approach. One that would certainly pull the truth out of this suspicious situation.

"Well then," he cleared his throat, "I make a decree! If, in fact, you speak truth, and Medgar held no power over you, you will not object returning to the tower. Return, and kill Medgar and his Summoner Osador. You owe me your allegiance for saving your life!" he shouted. "Agree, and I will spare you, unlike the poor sot we found along with you in the river!"

The bold ultimatum caused an uproar to break out.

Vapid disagreements turned to shouting matches between this group and that, and King Terthil joined wholeheartedly into the fray. Aarius had become an unlikely hero and there would be no sending him back to the tower. In the midst of the confusion Aarius felt a tug at his sleeve.

It was one of the young women who been by his side when he awoke. She and several others had spent hours keeping Aarius warm or rubbing his limbs as he lay near death from the ravages of the frigid river. They, like the others had also assumed he was a Grell, taking note of his brackish pallor that day.

"Come with me!" she whispered fervidly pulling him along. "Hurry!" She led him out through the back of the tent, and they slipped along the shadows of the surrounding forest, passing the now fizzling fire where Cedor had met his untimely end and Aarius stopped at the grisly sight. When she realized he was no longer with her she turned around and ran back.

"What are you doing!" she hissed.

"What happened here," Aarius demanded.

She grabbed his arm. "That is the fate of any mage belonging to Medgar," she snapped bitterly. "Now come and I will explain later." She yanked his arm and he followed close on her heels this time, knowing the same end could await him.

They continued on, zig-zagging between the merchant tables and animal stalls, small shops and food vendors, past the hawkers market and on to the edge of the camp where a great amphitheater stood and she led him to the back of it and into an attached tent. "We'll rest here a moment. You need some food."

"What is this place," he asked tersely.

"The travelers live here. We have no part with King Terthil. He rules Crescent Camp, the marketplace. He is no better than a common thief and if you pledge alliance with him well, you will be no better." As she talked, she prepared a roasted leg of fowl, a large chunk of bread and a wooden cup filled with fresh goat milk and placed it on a small wooden table. "Sit," she said pointing to the chair. "Eat. Then I will take you someplace you will be safe."

"Safe?! There will be no safe place for me. You saw what happened to, to him, back there!"

"Just eat. You said yourself Medgar and Osador had no power over you, and neither will Terthil."

Aarius was not so sure but he did eat, as he was starved to the bone. "What is your name?" he asked through a mouth full of meat and bread.

She smiled at his bad manners but answered his question. "Kitra."

"I am Aarius," he said almost choking.

"I know. I was there when you woke up. I helped Tobs pull you from the river."

"To whom does Terthil refer as the poor sot in the river with me?"

"The one they burned like a roasted pig," she said casually.

Aarius coughed his food all over the table and looked at Kitra with utter distress. "One of Medgar's men was found in the river with me?" he croaked.

Kitra smiled and nodded, chortling a little at the look on his face.

Her husky laughter calmed him a trifle and he found himself smiling too but it was short lived as a head-splitting shout pierced their moment followed by several more. Kitra recognized these warning calls and jumped up. She accessed a little flap at the back of the tent and disappeared only to reappear quickly and gesture for Aarius to follow. The flap turned out to be an entrance that led beneath the stage of the amphitheater and Kitra crawled all the way to the front where she was able to view the surrounding area from a small slit in the stage underpinning.

Aarius crawled up next to her. "What is it?" he whispered. "Has Terthil discovered my disappearance?"

"No, but he soon will. It is Riagon's men."

"Riagon?"

"Mercenaries. Bought soldiers. They are the army of the Kingdoms. Just how old were you when Medgar captured you anyway?" Kitra asked as a back thought. "You seem to know very little about your life before," her comment faded as her attention returned to the chaos outside. "Okay, Aarius," she turned to him in the dark, their faces just inches apart. "This is what I want you to do. Do you see that soldier out there who bears the standard?" She waited for him to look but he never did. "You must look idiot!"

"Oh," Aarius replied sheepishly bending toward the slit and placing one eye at the opening. Kitra placed a hand on his back and Aarius went limp at her touch.

"Do you see him?"

Aarius nodded, afraid his voice would give up his quivering heart. He wasn't sure if it was fear or her touch, but he didn't want her to know.

"I want you to run to him. Run to him and claim mercy. Anyone who claims mercy must be spared. Tell him you need to go to Blade-Shield Garrison. Blade -Shield. Can you remember that?" she asked desperately.

He nodded. "But what about you?"

"I am safe. We leave on the morrow for Upland Market. Its not too far from the Garrison. I will come for you then, I promise."

"I don't know Kitra," he stammered.

"This is your only hope Aarius now go!"

He stared at her confused and afraid.

"If you stay Terthil will own you. He'll force you to do his bidding for his own importance and if you go back to Oath Guard Tower you will be killed. Either way Aarius. This is your only chance."

He looked at her with an uncomfortable longing and taking a deep breath he turned to crawl back toward the tent flap but stopped and took her hand. "I was Eit."

She looked at him, baffled for just a second and then he bent forward and kissed her lips. A tender brotherly kiss. Her cheeks flushed with heat and her eyes fluttered for the briefest of seconds. He sat back from her, his breath a whisper against her skin. "Terthil didn't save me. You did. I shall never forget your kindness," he rasped. Then he was gone, crawling as fast as he could back to the tent and hopefully, his freedom.

His heart was beating like a drum in his ears or perhaps that was a drum beating somewhere in the distance. When he burst from the tent men with fire torches were everywhere. One of them screamed, 'There! There he is!' Aarius didn't look back. He took off heading for the side of the stage where he was met by another group of men who surrounded him with their torches, yelling and grabbing for his clothes. Aarius screamed and fought with all he had.

Kitra heard his screams and slammed her body against the eye slit. Her breath came in terrified gasps and she prayed to Mithras Mother Goddess to help Aarius.

With her hands on either side of her face she pressed her eye to the hole and watched. The horsemen took off in the direction of the screams and a trickle of sweat rolled down her face. 'Please, please, please let him make it,' she whispered realizing at that moment that what she thought was sweat was really tears but why she was moved to cry was unknown to her.

She held her breath still watching for any movement she could see.

Aarius was shoved to the ground but he rolled and clawed his way back on his feet only to be thrust headlong as someone grabbed his legs. The breath was knocked from him and he squirmed around grabbing a handful of sandy loam and threw it into the jeering face of his captor. The man cursed and let go giving Aarius enough time to scramble out of reach. He pushed himself forward and into the arms of a steel like grip. He cried out and through his pain looked into the eyes of another man, this one, unlike the others, was dressed in field armor, the finest he had ever seen. The mans eyes were as gentle as they were stern and beyond him, the man on a horse who held the standard. Aarius reached toward him and cried out for mercy.

Kitra held tight to the wall, still straining to see anything that would let her know Aarius had made it. When the standard bearer rode out from the side of the amphitheater, she saw him and Aarius was on the horse with him. She sobbed openly with relief as they rode away and sitting back from the eye slit on her hands and knees she wept, gasping for great breaths of air. He had made it! Kitra turned and flopped back against the wall with her head back laughing and crying at the same time.

"Go in peace Aarius, I will find you," she vowed.