[Salinye]

"SHY!" Shouted the gruff voice of Shyani’s uncle Staven. "Another round of Ale fer the boys!" The half elf groaned inwardly as she glanced to the table encircled by men from the lowest walks of life. “The Treachery” was the name of her uncle's Tavern that sat on the outskirts of Serubia, and appropriately named, she thought. Only two kinds of people frequented Staven's tavern, those who loved to gamble, and those who were up to no good. Most people here were a mixture of both, those who weren't welcome to show their face in other town establishments.

Shyani had worked as a tender in her uncle's bar since she was old enough to see over the counter. She had been placed in the care of her Uncles Staven and late aunt Melinda shortly after her parent’s death 17 years earlier. She had no memory of her parents and little to no information on how they died, however, she was told they loved her well and that was enough for her. Shyani had adored her aunt Melinda. She was always kind to her, and best of all she kept Staven under control. Aunt Melinda reared Shyani as if she were her own child. Not able to have her own children, she passed her knowledge of the ranger arts to her niece. Melinda found her niece a natural and over the years Shyani became rather proficient at nature lore, tracking, hunting, minor healing and fighting with a staff and bow. She often spent her free hours in the woods; the place she felt most at peace to commune with Elrihara, the goddess of nature and mother of all living.

She was 15 when her aunt passed away, and things had gone down hill from there. For the first year after her death, Staven drank himself into a stupor every night. Shyani, having been kept sheltered had no one close to turn to and found her only comfort in Elrihara. Finally, having no choice, she took over the task of running Melinda’s (the name of the tavern at the time), as it was their only source of income. When her Uncle finally decided to quit living a non-existent life, he was worse than he had ever been before. She could still remember him storming down from his quarters above the tavern into the serving hall late one night as she was closing up. He had been drinking, but wasn't so drunk that he couldn't think and speak. He informed her things were about to change, that she should remember she's working for HIM and would be expected to earn her keep from this point forward. That week, things did indeed change. The sign that read “Melinda’s” was replaced by “The Treachery” and the furniture, formerly quaint and welcoming, was changed so that the Tavern was more open to gambling, something aunt Melinda had always frowned upon.

Shyani sighed walking to the table where her uncle sat, surrounded by men she despised. A large pile of coins had collected in the center of the table and smoke hovered in the air like a choking fog. She started collecting the Empty Ale mugs, setting them on her tray while seething inwardly trying to ignore the usual catcalls and affectionate pats she had grown accustomed to. The nights at the Treachery had become predictable. Most of the customers were regulars, and she knew what to expect from each of them by now. Turning her back on the wretched men she walked behind the counter, her tray full of empty mugs.

Setting the tray on the back counter, she turned her back to the tavern entrance and began refilling each glass from the spicket on the large barrel of ale. Having lived and worked around the tavern for so many years, she had learned to tune the constant noise out. That’s why she didn’t at first notice the silence that suddenly cloaked the room. When she did finally become aware of the change in atmosphere, it wasn’t the lack of noise that brought it to her attention. It was when the fine hair on the back of her neck stood up and her instincts told her she was in danger. Realizing the tankard she was filling had begun to overflow onto her hand, she jerked the spicket around stopping the flow of ale and cursed beneath her breath. Setting the now full glass back upon the tray, she grabbed a bar towel and began drying her hand as she turned to find a cloaked man staring at her just inside the entrance. The stranger was tall and Dark his attire completely hidden beneath his black cloak. His very presence changed the feeling in the room and silenced the bar. His very countenance demanded attention. Shyani was more than used to being stared at, even gawked at, but the mere look in her direction from this Elven man gave her a chill that filled her with anxiety and dread. Shyani couldn’t think of a single person she had ever feared before. This was the start of the night that changed her life.

"Lendarion!" Her uncle gruffly called out in what she knew to be a forced joyous voice. "I'm glad you could make it. Come. Sit. Enjoy a game of cards with us. Shy! Get the man an ale". Staven was involved in all kinds of schemes and dealings that she knew nothing about. She wondered from where he knew this man. She watched him as he finally shifted his gaze from her to her uncle. He eyed the table and the men that sat around it as if a hawk sizing up his prey. Without a word, he strode toward Staven's gang with a confident step, his black leather boots tapping against the wooden floor making the only sound in the room. The men shuffled quickly freeing up a seat for the stranger her uncle had called Lendarion. The dark man sat down coolly and simply nodded to Staven. "SHY! I told you to get the man an ALE!" Shouted her uncle causing everyone to jump. Shyani quickly grabbed for a clean glass, when the stranger's cool voice spoke.

"No need". With that he pulled from seemingly nowhere beneath his cloak a tall thin bottle of a dark red liquid and poured himself a glass.


The atmosphere in the tavern grew more and more like it usually was, as the night grew later and the drinks kept coming yet the dark stranger remained as cool and calm as he was when he first entered The Treachery. Shyani caught him eyeing her often, and his stare still filled her with unease. The regulars resumed their careless crude behavior while her uncle was even more demanding than usual. At one point during the night he had cornered her in the supply room. Grabbing her arm he pushed his face within an inch of hers speaking to her in a harsh whisper. "That bloody High elf is a very wealthy man, and he's losing bag after bag of gold! I want you to be at your best. The least ye could do is smile once in a while!" She simply nodded pressing her back against the wall, wanting his hot alcohol stained breath off her face. She had seen that look of greed in his eyes before. It was usually when he was going to run the tables on a rich man. Take him for all he's worth then send him on his way. Staven had many ways of cheating at the cards, but she would take no part in it. Adding just one more thing that helped to build the wall of resentment between them. He had often tried to convince her to "be more friendly like" with the customers so that she could give him signs as to what cards they held in their hands. His request and her refusal had set the foundation in their dislike for each other.

The hour grew late. Shyani began wiping the bar down, preparing things for close. Many of the men had staggered out, either with a small fortune for the day, or having lost their pocketful of gold. Staven, the stranger, and a handful of men remained at the table. Her uncle had been happy all night, winning hand after hand and the dark stranger seemed to have an endless supply of money. "Cursed!" Her uncle yelled slamming his hands on the table. "Ye be swindlin' me!!" He yelled pointing a shaky finger at the stranger. Shyani would later learn that her uncle had entered into a final hand of double or nothing with Lendarion.

She heard the dark haired stranger speak for the second time. "Either put a bet down, or fold." The tall elf stared coolly, through the shadows of his cloak at her red faced enraged uncle.

"I 'aven't got any more money!" He looked up at his niece desperately. "Shy! You have some money! I know this bugger is bluffing! Go fetch me yer money. If I can just stay in it, I'll win it all!" She shook her head at her uncle, trying to calm him, just wanting the night to be over, and the stranger to leave.

"Uncle Staven...Please, Just let the man go…" She began interrupted by his fury.

"Silence woman!" He yelled even angrier, a slight madness gleaming in his eyes. After pacing for a minute, he finally sat back down running his fingers through his silvery thinning hair feeling the first wisps of despair run through him.

"You could bet your bar", the dark man snidely suggested. To Shyani the thought was ludicrous. The bar was all they had. She sat stunned, as she could read on her uncle's face that he was considering the proposition. Abandoning her clean up duties, she rushed to the gambling table. She hastily pushed some of the other drunken men out of her way and slammed her hands on the table.

"Uncle Staven! Enough is enough! You'd be a fool to bet the bar!" Staven just stared at the dark man as if Shyani were not even there before giving a final nod. " No!" She said firmly. She could tell that pleading with her uncle was senseless. In a desperate effort, she whipped her head around to find her gaze met sternly by the stranger’s dark, cold eyes. Beginning to lose her nerve she spoke quickly in a strained hushed tone. "M'lord! You must see that he is not in any mind to make such decisions. I beg you, take the money, and be on your way.”

Lendarion stared back answering coolly. "'Tis his decision to make-not yours". She was then shoved back by the strong hand of her uncle.

"Go about the business that concerns ye, like scrubbing the counters and fetching me an ale". Her uncle hollered. That was the final straw for the girl. She had wanted to leave for a long time, and she thought she just might finally have collected enough money to do so and even if she hadn’t, she’d rather live in a barn with swine than spend one more night here. She stomped to the bar angry. "Fine, lose the bar like a drunken fool! I'll no longer be slave to your command". Her remark set the remaining men in the bar laughing...all accept Staven and Lendarion who remained eyes locked and silent. Walking up the back stairs to her living quarters she began packing the few things that mattered to her. A charcoal sketch of her parents, a few clothes, her staff, and the money she had been able to acquire over the years. She changed out of the dress her uncle made her wear while tending and into her leather hunting clothes and cloak. As she went back down into the bar, she was stunned at the site waiting for her.

The room was deadly silent; her uncle lay with his head down, sobbing into his arms on the table. The stranger stood, a sneer curling his lips, and began collecting the coins into a bag. As she walked closer, she could hear her uncle's drunken sobs. "Oh Melinda, what have I done?"

The stranger faced her, his eyes searing into her "You work for me now, Shyani." She didn’t like him saying her name. It felt as violating as if he reached out and slapped her.

Shyani stood defiant and held her ground. "Nay, I work for no one. I'm leaving this forsaken place and never looking back." With that she turned her back on her uncle and the dark man heading towards the door. Lendarion’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

"Staven, if you'd like to keep your bar, I'd be willing to trade it for your niece". Shyani spun around as her uncle jerked his head up from the table and agreed without a moment's hesitation. "Take her! She's yours, but I warn ye, she's more trouble 'en she's worth!"

Sinedra couldn't believe the absurdity of what they were saying. " I'm not YOURS to give away, Staven! I'm a person not property. You lost your bar because you're a fool!" The two men stood facing each other as if she had not even spoken.

"Staven, do you agree to the trade?" Asked the dark mage pointedly.

Her uncle only hesitated a moment before replying, "Aye!"

The girl scoffed disgusted and spun on her heels to leave forever. Before she could get more than 3 steps toward the door, she heard words of a dark spell being mumbled behind her. In a brilliant flash of light, she was thrown mercilessly to the ground. Her head slammed into the wooden slats of the floor with a crack, sending her world into darkness......


When she regained consciousness, she was no longer in the bar; she was in a room she did not recognize, laying on the floor. Her head ached, and it took a moment for her vision to clear, but when it did, she saw that the dark mage was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room staring at her. She sat up startled, the fighter in her frantically searching out all the exits. Two doors, one probably to a bathroom and one window, from the view of the trees, I’m guessing we’re not ground level…Could be worse.

“Get up.” He commanded her, on impulse and without thinking, she did exactly as he commanded; A fact that did not occur to her.

"Who are you? What do you want with me, and where are we"? She stammered struggling to return her voice to an even tone.

"I am Lendarion." He stared at her as if studying her, but made no move to leave the chair he sat in. "Come to me." She instantly took a step towards him before willing herself to stop. Her heart raced in fear as she started to recognize an inward struggle for control. Her first instinct was to do exactly as he commanded. However, she used every ounce of her own will to override the overwhelming impulse to approach him. Turning, she fled to the window but stopped short leaning her face on the wall next to it as a painful paralysis swept over her. She was frozen in spot and couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get herself to jump through the window. Screaming in frustration she fought against the spell trying to move. Her efforts went unrewarded. The dark man just sat in the corner watching her with an amused and twisted smile upon his face. She finally stopped struggling, succumbing to the command that seemed to be pounding in her mind. Walking to the stranger she glared at him defiantly, her arms at her sides, no longer able to mask her fear.

Looking back at her he began to speak matter-of-factly. "My name is Lendarion, and I own you. You need not know more about me. You have just had a minor taste of what can happen if you disobey me. Doing so is physically impossible. Do you understand?" Shyani sat staring at him in disbelief. He was not happy with her silence. “Answer me! Do you understand?”

She found herself answering him immediately. "Yes…WAIT! NO!” She shook her head to try to clear the unfamiliar feeling that now resided there. “You...you don't own me! I am not a piece of clothing, or a gem that can be kept!" She spat back with feigned bravery, even though inside her heart was sinking, because deep within, her spirit was screaming a protest that let her know the fiend’s words were true.

Lendarion raised his hands up sharply causing her to flinch away. She scorned herself for showing weakness as he stopped his fists just before her face pleased with her fear. Flipping his fisted hands over, he revealed his wrists. Each had an arcane symbol seemingly tattooed upon them. Sitting forward in his chair he looked directly into her eyes. "Do you see these?" She nodded numbly. He slowly dropped his hands grabbing her dainty arms firmly within his iron grasp. Jerking them up before her face, he twisted her hands painfully to reveal her own wrists with the very same symbols upon them. She whimpered softly at his harsh twisting of her arms. "Do you see THESE?" Shyani's eyes stung with tears as she saw the very same symbols on her body. "You are bound to me, Shyani."

In anger, she jerked her hand away raising it to strike him. Simultaneously the same painful throbbing paralysis began to pulse through her very soul. The room swayed before her eyes as her body threatened to pass out. Lendarion laughed a deep laugh that brought out the wickedness in his features. "Do not cross me girl, you will not win. Allow me to show you one more thing". Shyani dropped her hand back to her side limply and felt the mind numbing pain begin to drain from her and her vision began to once again clear.

She watched in horror as the dark mage removed a sharp-jeweled dagger from a small leather sheath at his side. Her eyes widened, her face paling as he brought it up before her eyes. She began trembling in fear. He smiled, pleased with her reaction, slowly lowering the dagger to rest upon the palm of his hand. Without warning, and without removing his eyes from hers, he slowly sliced a thin cut across his own palm.

Shyani screamed in pain grabbing her own hand as blood ran from it revealing a fresh cut in her palm to match his. Lendarion laughed again wiping the bloodied dagger on his cloak, then sheathed it back at his side. "You see, Shyani, you are bound to me. You will take half of any harm inflicted upon me." Then his eyes narrowed. "You are not as strong as I am. It would take less to kill you than me, understand?" The half-elf froze, as comprehension began to settle in on her. Crumpling to the floor she sobbed in shock and desperation....