Torr was wearing a tiara.  He supposed it looked quite
lovely with the simple white gown he was also wearing.  But he
was less concerned with the appearance he was presenting than
with the tiara's main function.  Every time he even thought
about casting a spell, it sent a wave of electrical pain through
his body.
     Or rather, Mariposa's body.  And that body's relative
puniness was why Torr had been unable to use his physical skills
to overcome the guards on either side of him.  He fumed at how
they'd laughed at his struggles.
     Lady Erika finally entered the room and sat in the place of
honor.  Aria stood at her right hand, looking rather
sympathetically at Torr.
     "Erika, this is madness!" protested Torr, wincing at his
high-pitched voice making him sound petulant rather than
commanding.  "You can't seriously--"
     She looked down her nose at him.  "I do not see, Torr,
where your incompetence leaves me any choice.  If you cannot
serve me as you used to, you will serve in a way you are suited
to.  As the leader of our people, it is my responsibility to
ensure our survival by making these decisions."
     Erika gestured, and a piper began playing a solemn tune.  A
red-headed man slightly larger than a bear marched into the
room, clad in shining armor rented for the occasion.
     Torr swallowed hard.  "G-Garro?"
     The big man leaned down, bearded face splitting in a
carnivorous grin.  "Do not worry, little Torr.  I am sure you
will bear me many sons."
     Torr screamed.

     "Mari-chan, are you having a nightmare?"
     Torr blinked in the light of dying embers.  The woman
looking at him in concern, what was her name, oh yes.  "Uhh,
yes, Luanni-san.  I guess I was."
     Luanni brushed some of Torr's hair back in a motion he
found strangely comforting.  "What was it about?"
     Torr decided to try a half-truth.  "Lady Erika."
     "Oh, Mari-chan!"  Luanni's face hardened.  "We'll find a
way to get your mother away from her somehow, and then you'll
never have to follow that witch's orders ever again."
     "Ah, thanks."
     "Try and get some sleep.  We'll figure out what to do when
we get back to Waymeart."  Luanni laid back down.
     Torr's thoughts turned back to the nightmare.  It was oddly
comforting to realize that if he and Mariposa weren't switched
back, he'd be dead well before anything like *that* happened.

SLAYERS GLORIOUS
Created by Todd Harper
Chapter Thirty-Three: North!  The Rush Is On!
Written by Scott K. Jamison

     "Revenge..hee hee...revenge...show them all...cherry
blossoms are so pretty...White Serpent...hee hee...revenge...."
     Korvadus opened a bleary eye.  Didn't that sailor ever shut
up?  He looked over carefully.  The Captain's lips were moving,
but the eyes were closed and his body was limp.  Sleep seemed
likely.
     Careful not to make a sound, Korvadus crept from the room.
     In the inn's public room, Korvadus was sitting down to a
hearty breakfast when he was approached by a priest of Ceipheed.
     "A thousand pardons, generous sir, but would you care to
give a donation to the Widows and Orphans of Martyrs Fund?"
     "Morning, Lilen."
     She sat.  "Too obvious?"  She grabbed a hot-cake from the
stack.
     "I give real holy men the willies."
     Lilen finished off the cake and reached for another.  "Mm. 
Our targets were in town for the Pickle Festival.  Glad we
missed that.  Anyhow, they were last seen heading in the general
direction of Tichen."
     Korvadus nodded.  "Eat up and let's go, then."
     They finished quickly and left the inn.  Lilen assumed a
more feminine guise, and they were nearly out of town when a
familiar voice rang out.
     "Arr!  It's glad I am to see ye are so anxious to help me
with my revenge on the White Serpent!"
     "Aheh.  Good morning, Captain."
     "Don't forget Petey, miss.  He's a part of this team too. 
Isn't that right, Petey?"
     The dead albatross declined to comment.
     Lilen rolled her eyes.  She whispered to Korvadus, "You
know, it'd be easier to ditch him if you were more
disguiseable."
     "I'll keep that in mind the next time I tick off a
Mazo--hey, does that mean?  No, lost it again.  Damn."
     "Revenge!  Revenge!"
     The others looked back at their companion.  "Do you know if
it's bad luck to kill someone wearing an albatross, Lilen?"

     The sun was nearly at its zenith when Naga and Getehl made
it to the outskirts of Tichen.  It looked much like the other
small cities of the region, but there was one notable
difference.  
     A small natural vale was filling with excited people.  As
the travelers got nearer, they could see that the flat space at
the center of the depression had been roped off and strewn with
fresh sand.
     Roasted nut vendors hawked their wares, and men on stools
were marking bets on their slates.  It looked like business was
brisk.
     Getehl accosted one of the crowd.  "What's the sport?"
     "Wrestling.  champ gets to bed the Harvest Queen. 
Fertility rite, doncha know."  The local pointed towards a
rather ample-looking woman in a low-cut blouse.
     Not a prize Getehl was particularly inspired by, so he
scoped out the likely competitors instead.  It was a typical
assortment of sturdy farmers, burly mercenaries, a bandit or
two, and a boar-man.  One or two looked like good prospects to
go far--
     "You're not thinking of entering, are you?" Naga broke into
his thoughts.  "We have more important things to do.  Besides,
you can't possibly be interested in that dreary-looking woman
when the beautiful and graceful White Serpent is at your side! 
Ohohoho!"
     He looked at her, uncertain if she were flirting with him
or simply bragging.  "No, no, I just want to mingle.  This is
obviously a big social event, and we might learn something."
     "Oh, very well.  Vendor, I say vendor!  Some of those roast
tanger nuts over here!"
     Getehl sidled off towards one of the bookie stands.  After
looking over the odds, he picked the massive-looking Fausu to
win the first match.
     The festivities got underway, though the first match ended
rather abruptly when Reginald the boar-man tossed Fausu a good
three rows into the crowd.
     In the relative lull immediately after the roar this
provoked, Naga overheard a man in trader's robes say, "--howling
winds, blood and severed limbs everywhere!  That Ace sure can
hold a grudge!"
     Naga grabbed the man by his shoulder, spun him around, and
pulled him up to her face.  "Did you say `Ace?'"
     "Eep!  Er, I mean yes!" said the man, trying to get his
eyes to uncross.
     "Ace as in Actinea, silver hair in a braid, flat as a
board?"
     "Well, I wouldn't say that flat, she's nicely rounded
without being grotesquely over endowed like some women, and--"
     Naga glared.
     "Yes."
     "Where did you see her?"  The next match had started, and
the crowd was ignoring them.
     "Up north, in Waymeart, by Kalmaart."
     "Think carefully.  Was there anyone with her?"
     The trader nodded vigorously, which allowed him to get a
good view of Naga's cleavage.  "A little girl and another woman
with a really nice figure.  Can I go now?  I've got money riding
on these bouts."
     Naga thought for a moment, then loosened her grip.  The
trader collapsed to the ground.  The view was almost as good
from that angle.
     "OHOhohoHO!  Getehl!"
     The mercenary in question had secured a spot next to the
ring, which was being prepared for the next bout.  Hearing his
name, he turned and slipped on some dropped nuts.  Two failed
attempts to regain his balance and a rather rude shove later,
Getehl found himself face down inside the ring.
     He was hauled to his feet by the ring's other occupant,
Reginald.
     "*snort*  No weapons."
     "Look, this is all an accident, and--"
     The boar-man jutted his tusks forward.  "You're in the
ring.  You wrestle, skinny boy."
     "Five coppers on the newcomer!" shouted one of the
spectators.
     "Ten silver says Reginald clears four rows with him!"
retorted another.
     "Fine then.  If that's the way you want it...."  Getehl
unbuckled his sword belt and laid it outside the ring.  "Oh, and
three gold on me."
     The bell rang, and Reginald rushed forward.  Getehl
recognized the move, and feinted left.  The boar-man missed by a
whisker's length.
     "Huh.  You can dance, but can you grapple?" asked Reginald,
coming in again more carefully.
     Getehl went for a leg, but this time Reginald was faster,
and got the mercenary in a hammerlock.  He rammed Getehl into a
corner post.
     The human managed to break the hold, and shouldered
Reginald to the ground.
     "*snort*  You're not bad, skinny boy.  Butcha need more
than guts to beat me!"  Reginald got to his feet in a move
surprisingly fluid for his bulk, and grabbed Getehl's arm. 
Before the other fighter could respond, he was flying out of the
ring.
     "Darn!" cried a spectator.  "Only two and a half rows!"
     Naga poked Getehl with a foot.  "I hope you're proud of
yourself.  Still, I did learn something important.  As soon as
you can walk again, we're headed north."
     Getehl grinned weakly and gave her a thumbs up.
     "Excuse me," interrupted a bookie, "but there's a small
matter of gold?"
  
     Mari's arm was starting to hurt less.  So far, that was the
best part of her day.  What the Silent Bell had done to her and
Torr had, from her perspective, no positive points at all.  The
double vision and hearing kept her confused at best, the thing
between her legs would not stay in a comfortable position, and
worst of all, she had no one to talk to.
     It was true that she'd been alone before, but never for
very long, and always at her choice.  Now she had to trudge
along, keeping out of sight, while Torr got to be with Actinea
and Luanni.
     Mari was down to Torr's last hardtack, too.  If the arm
finally stopped aching so much, she'd have enough magical power
to fuel some spells for hunting.  Otherwise, she'd go hungry
tonight.
     She stood still and closed her eyes for a moment, to check
where Torr was.  Yes, still about a mile ahead.  In this
mountainous terrain, that provided plenty of cover.
     Mari resumed trudging, letting the warmth of the late
afternoon sun warm her.
     Suddenly, she felt the familiar tingle of a vision crystal
being activated.  Mari had seen one in Torr's pack.  Should she
ignore it?
     No.  Whoever was on the other end might give her some
information she needed.  Besides, she was lonely.
     Mari regretted unpacking the crystal as soon as she saw the
person whose image was inside.  "Lady Erika!"
     The crimson-haired woman looked annoyed.  "Torr.  It's
about time you answered.  Well?"
     "Umm, well what?"  Mari realized too late she knew nothing
of how Torr acted towards Erika.  She'd reveal who she was for
sure!
     "Have you secured the Silent Bell?"
     Mari's jaw worked but nothing came out.  The "silence"
effect surrounding the Bell was still in operation.
     "No?  Then at least it was in the place I predicted,
correct?"  Erika's face was meaner than Mari had ever seen it
before.
     Mari found she couldn't answer that, either.
     "What's the matter?  Why won't you answer me?"
     Mari helplessly shook her head.
     Erika was gnashing her teeth.  "If this is another of your
rebellions, Torr, you *will* be sorry.  Fine then.  It is
obvious that I can no longer afford to rely on underlings. 
Tomorrow I will make my way north to your position and take
charge personally.  Do I make myself clear?"
     Mari nodded.
     "In the meantime, can you at least keep an eye on the
child?  She may still be of some use to us, willingly or not."
     Mari nodded again.  She had no intention of losing sight of
her body.
     "Very well then.  Until we meet in person."  Erika's face
faded from the crystal.
     Mari sat down heavily.  This was not good.  She had to find
some way of getting switched back and destroying the Bell before
Erika showed up and used it to do...whatever it was that she
wanted to do with it.  Mari wasn't sure what that was, but it
would have to be bad.
      Hunger cut into her thoughts, and Mari choked down the
last of the hardtack.  There wasn't a lot of water in the
canteen either.
      Resting a moment on the cold stones, Mari started to twist
a curl of red hair around her finger.  Hair, she noted that was
the same shade as her mother's.  And Lady Erika's.
      Wait a moment.  There was something there.  While reddish
hair was not exactly rare, (Mari remembered hearing that Naga's
sidekick Lina was a redhead,) three people with the same shade
in relatively close proximity who weren't related was a bit of a
coincidence.
     Or it wasn't a coincidence at all.  Now that she thought
about it, Mari remembered her father saying that her blonde hair
was a rarity "in our family."  And Torr had gotten through the
gate that only dragons, and people that were part dragon, could
pass through.
     Which meant, probably, that Torr was like her, descended
from dragons.  And, though less likely, Lady Erika was too. 
Which meant that *she* could reach the Bell.
     And whatever else Mari did, she knew she couldn't allow
that.  Even if it meant she died stuck in this body.


               To Be Continued


Author's Note:  Well, someone had to throw themself on the
grenade so the queue would fill.  And better a short part than a
skip, right?
     The movement towards converging party members was at the
suggestion of Todd Harper.  They have been split up for rather a
long time.  Note that the trader was exaggerating the damage
done by Actinea.  By the time he gets to Saillune, Waymeart will
have been scoured from the face of the earth.
     Thanks to my pre readers, who had plenty of time to object
to any truly awful plot twists.
     Oh, and please check out Fireworks Season over on the
Syrian Stories site.  Your sign-ups are desperately needed.

Enjoy,
SKJAM!