"Holding anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned." - The Buddha

You damn fool.

Besides, I am thinking Sid is going to need what I have for her.

Everybody should jus' calm down! I have this under control!

She's losing so many. Not you, of course. You survived.

Leech.

When you die, I shall dance on your grave.

But you are the only one so far. I'm sure you will miss the beloved Bel, won't you Sid"

Darlin' I will drin' tae about anythin'

You haven't heard, Sid" You haven't heard about Belial or the Spider Mages"

How bout a Lowenbrau my man.

You want to take the lady's candy"

Each voice rose from the chaotic din of the commons. Each haphazardly collected and thrown together into a muddy stew of voices, familiar and otherwise, without any rhyme or reason, disconnected from the faces that spoke them. He struggled to hold onto a few morsels...Belial, lady's candy, Spider Mages....control, before they disappeared into the mass swirl.

The faces followed, isolated, tossed into the soupy mix...faces he knew...Howe, Kitty, Ewan, Sid, Tara, Jewell,...and faces he didn't recognize.

Names followed, familiar and otherwise, like a roll call melting together...Lenika, Stephen, Cousin, Lankyn, Chris, Patrick, Amthy, Sianna, Jodiah...Dewey....Howe.

Then the snakes came with a high pitched scream of terror.

Oh, but Lucien. This is me being a gentleman. I'm not ripping your guts out am I"

Hm, yes, here in Rhy'Din everything seems to be nothing more than one big sucking hole. Don't you agree, Barrister" Like where your house used to stand?

Of course, Barrister. I am happy to speak with you. At our DCH offices.

And beneath it all, anger simmered, coming to a slow boil unnoticed under the guise of calm restraint.

If grief could burn out Like a sunken coal, The heart would rest quiet..... -Philip Larkin (1922"1986), British poet. "If grief could burn out." The afternoon sun streamed into the newly finished room, revealing the countless particles that danced suspended in the air. The smell of damp plaster and drying lacquer hung heavily in the air, mingled with the sodden smell of wetted sawdust. Somewhere in an upstairs room, a rhythmic pounding marked the passing time, as heavy footsteps shuffled back and forth. Muffled voices barked orders incoherently and answered in kind. Unsure and unpracticed fingers moved over the heavy, ebony surface, tracing over the hard, foreign details. The metal felt different from a blade. Fingers curled over the formed grip. The weight of the weapon nestled against his palm. It fit akin to a glove, as if each ridge and valley was made for his hand alone. But there wasn't an intimacy to the grip, as with a bow. It felt cool...cold....It felt distant. A loud crash echoed upstairs, followed immediately by a few angry and sharp barks from the foreman, sending more heavy footsteps scurrying. The footsteps grew heavier and echoed louder as if they were getting closer and the Barrister closed his eyes against the rising red in his vision... ...and the growing voices, whispers, shouts, screams. Just a little further, Gov'nor. Call the fire brigade! Get down! Get down! She won't have survived, Gov'nor. We need water here! Fire! Fire! Fire! It's too late for her, Gov'nor Fire! Fire! "Gov'nor?" Fire! "Viktor!" The walls shook with a reverberating echo, and the weight of Gwyr's voice jerked the Barrister from the red haze. Lucien blinked to focus his gaze and reorient himself. The muffled voices upstairs, the heavy shuffling footsteps, the distant and rhythmic pounding all ceased. An uneasy hush settled like a heavy blanket over the room, leaving only the sound of a fading sizzle and dying hum. His attention drifted to find the faithful manservant slowly remerging from behind a newly constructed wall that was no longer there, regaining his usual aplomb.

Questioning gaze settled on Gywr, who didn't even spare a glance to the newly blown out hole in the wall that bore charred markings around the edges and approached the Barrister with sure and almost urgent strides, nodding to the blaster Lucien had obtained from the Ancient and still held in his hand. "You left the safety off, Gov'nor," Gywr remarked stoically.

Lucien's gaze fell to the weapon he wielded, then past the man to the still smoking hole in the wall. And he laughed.

Cold and distant.

While I was musing the fire burned. - Psalm 39:3. The crystal scotch decanter was nearly empty, as was the glass in the barrister's hand. Bandages, salve and the basin of water remained on the table beside the decanter. Fire continued to burn brightly in the fireplace, wood crackling and popping occasionally to break the brooding silence. It burned as red and hot as Taneth's face was that evening. As red and hot as her hands were burned. ***** He had led Taneth out onto the porch to cool her. As well as get her away from the sightless behemoth, Magus. Quiet words and humming were shared in the cold night air. And Lucien held out hope that the evening might end quietly. However, unbeknownst to them on the porch, Magus turned his attention away from the Ancient and the 'old man' and was headed out of the inn to join them on the porch. "You know something?" Lucien had started to convey something to Taneth, however he never finished his thought. The sound of the front door opening and the large figure ducking under the door to step out onto the dark porch drew the barrister's attention and he turned toward the behemoth interrupting the quiet conversation with a reply of his own, "Many things, m'lord." Taneth pointed to the window through which she had seen the eyeless behemoth (and Magus in turn had watched the blonde lass) and demanded his departure of the overbearing figure. "Go back over there." "Something I can do for you...Sir?" Lucien queried as he placed himself between Taneth and the looming sightless 'gent'. Magus began moving toward the pair. "Ye can wisely cease the thought of becoming an obstacle in our way, and step aside from the blonde woman, m'lord."

"I am afraid I can't do that." Lucien had held out hope that the evening might end quietly. However, this was RhyDin and a quiet evening was a rare event. The towering behemoth charged the barrister and hell broke loose out on the porch. ***** Ice blue gaze turned from the fireplace to the jacket and shirt that lay strewn on the floor. A neat slash cut through the layers of fabric and bore witness to how close the towering figure got to cleaving the barrister in two. The glass was tipped back and the last swallow of scotch was drained from it. The glass was set aside and a fused stone sitting nearby was picked up as the barrister rose to his feet. The stone was bounced in his hand, much like he had done earlier in the evening, as he paced the room. It was the same stone he had thrown at Magus while the massive figure turned his attacks on Belial, Formir and Sid. It was the same stone that the towering creature shattered and sent back at Lucien. It was the same stone, which shattered pieces, the Ancient literally plucked out of the air and fused it back together, shielding the barrister from serious injury. Lucien stopped his pacing and inspected the stone which was fused by the Ancient's very will. Something confided to him just a few years past rose from swirling memories and struck him. Eyes of rich and deep green peered intently up at him. "And *things* changed for me....And Sid too. We are no longer what we once were, Lucien, we are..." Absently the stone was rolled in his hand, a thoughtful furrow marking his brow as he replayed the battle with Magus that evening, eyes closing at the rising images. The faint humming from Taneth, lightening crystals from the Morhedrel elf, and blurring arc of blades rushed from fresh memories. And lost amid the chaos, there, he saw it. Belial's wound closing on its own. The light, a glow as if from the moon itself, bleeding from the Ancient. Then the trees....the trees reaching to ensnare the imposing figure within it's wooden limbs. A deep breath broke the heavy silence in the barrister's study as he turned the hand, that still held the stone, over. Magus had found his escape in an inky darkness, but he had not given up his pursuit. Shadows left behind moved to claim their prize. Chaos erupted once again with the Morhedrel's elf casting light at the growing shadows and Sid's warning cry. Lucien moved to shield the blonde the shadows sought. He held his place, even as he felt a heated touch on his hand, bracing for the darkened night sky to fall atop of him. But that never came to pass. Instead the Ancient reached deep within herself and the air around them shimmered a violet hue. When it cleared, Taneth and Lucien found themselves in the barrister's townhouse, with her hands badly burned hand bearing witness to her touch, the blonde reaching to pull the barrister to safety on her own. Lucien sank back down into the armchair. He held up his hand which bore no evidence of any injury from the touch. Behind his outstretched hand, the fire burned hot in the hearth casting a glow against the shadows, red and hot.