Bungleau's Missy Hissy Adventures (all in one thread!)

[Bungleau]

Chapter 41: No, You First

As Missy Hissy accompanied Stackman’s party down the elevator shaft, her heart grew heavy. She felt no ill will for the lich; he’d paid for his own hell in blood, and it was none of her affair. Her feeling for her father’s killer... there, she was struggling.

The teachings of the zenmaster revolved around the way of life, that all things run full circle, ending where they started. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had found Scanthril, and equally as long that she had ended his miserable life, unsatisfying though it was. She realized she was not angry at the tool, but at the craftswoman who handled it. Every step had brought her tantalizing information, from the paintings in Anephas’ shrine to the legends in the lost city of Collasium.

And if the lich could give her the last piece of information, the last thing to give her the full knowledge of who was behind her father’s death and the hunt for her own life... well, how important was that knowledge to her? Would she make him suffer? Would she show mercy, undeserving though he were?

She didn’t know.

Her old teachings as an assassin would have her bringing the lich to his knees, twisting daggers in his back and in his brain until he told her everything he knew. Her new teachings told her that every action would be repaid, ultimately. In this life or the next, in her life or in her offspring’s, her deeds and actions would come back.

As the second elevator ground to a halt, Missy and the rest of the party stepped off. She wasn’t used to traveling with such a large crowd... it almost felt like being in a pack of animals, and animals rarely outlasted the hunter. Soon the entire crowd approached the lich, who raised his head and rasped, “So you found each other.”

Missy and the rest stood awkwardly for a moment until the valkyrie drew the rest of the party toward the other end of the punishment chamber.

“I have your heart in my hand, lich,” said Missy. “Tell me what you know of the contract.”

The lich raised his rotting head. “And I tell you, and then you leave. And I remain here, unable to be killed for the rest of eternity. I think not. Put my heart in the black fire, and I will tell you all that you wish to know.”

“I- I cannot do that,” responded Missy. “You have my word that I will burn your heart once you tell me. But you must tell me first. Otherwise, you shall die, and I may never gain your knowledge.”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse,” rasped the lich. “I cannot tell you, and you cannot burn it. Fortunately, I have an eternity to wait for you to make your move... and “SHE” will force you to move before then.”

“I see,” mused Missy. “Wait here - augh! Like you’re really going to move...” She strode from the raised dais and beckoned the valkyrie toward her.

Once the valkyrie stepped forward, Missy spoke. “This lich will not give me his information unless I burn his heart. I fear that if I burn it, he will die before giving it to me. He fears that if he gives it to me, I will leave and he will be left here to suffer for eternity.”

“But-“ began the valkyrie.

“Hush, please,” said Missy. “Here’s what I want to do. I commit to you, lich, that once you tell me what I want, I will burn your heart. Lady Valkyrie, I charge you and your companions that should I fail to burn his heart, you all will attack and slay me to the best of your abilities, burn his heart, and then do what you will with my corpse. Will you do this?”

Struck by the fierceness of Missy’s expression, the valkyrie nodded agreement.

Missy turned to the lich. “Will that be enough to satisfy you, that your torture will be over?”

The lich eyed the valkyrie. “Swear it upon your oath,” he said.

The valkyrie looked him straight in the eye sockets. “By the oath I swore to defend the helpless and ease the suffering, may I be struck down should I fail to honor these requests.”

The lich nodded. “That suffices for me.”

The valkyrie retreated toward the rest of the party, wary of the strange goings-on. At least she had her companions, if it became necessary. She did not relish the thought of battling Missy.

The lich turned his empty sockets towards Missy. “She has been coming to me for centuries to write these contracts. I was not always a blood-sucking leech, you know. Before I fell under Cet’s spell, I had a long career as a lawyer, and fashioned and broke many contracts. She knew of that, and after the Cataclysm, she found me, and asked me to assist her in her contracts. By then, I had been immortal long enough to be bored with life and undeath, so I agreed.”

“Who was she?” demanded Missy.

“I’m coming to that,” said G’Ezerred Ra. “Each time, the contract was the same - payment to be made on the death of a merchant and his offspring. Each time, the merchant and offspring were named, although I found that neither one existed when the contract was written. I often wondered how she knew what the names of two generations were going to be... but as long as she brought me the enchanted instruments to ease my torture on this world, I sought not to find that out.

“Your contract was written one hundred and sixty nine years ago, before the last champion was even cold in the ground. It was as if she knew that he would fail, and that she would need another. Interestingly... since you have come of age, she has not been back for another contract... not that I am able to entertain visitors,” cackled the lich.

“So she had you write this contract so long ago... who was she? Or is she?” pleaded Missy. “You want an end, and I want answers.”

“I will tell you what I know,” said the lich. “Whether it be an answer or another question, I know not. I do know that I never met her; she always worked through an intermediary. After the first two contracts, I grew curious and tried to find out more. The intermediary always disappeared after our meetings, so I looked into the contracts themselves.”

“And what did you find?” asked Missy.

“Each contract was formally filed with the assassin’s guild some time after I wrote it. None of the targets had a long or well-known family lineage; in fact, they didn’t seem to exist at all. Each time, the merchant was quickly slain, while the single child left behind was not. At least, not as quickly. Sometimes the child was slain at the same time, while sometimes the child lived onward. Often the child lived in fear of the assassins, which is as bad as being dead. Or so I am told,” cackled the lich, delighting in Missy’s confused expression.

“And the children who didn’t live in fear?” asked Missy. “What of them?”

“Two escaped,” said the lich. “D’Soto, the grand champion, was the first. He died, betrayed by those close to him. The contract was collected, and the poor sod who collected it tried desperately to back out of it, but it was too late. He got his thirty pieces of silver.”

“And the second?” asked Missy.

The lich focused a baleful eye on her. “The second is you. And your chapter has not yet concluded, though it should. You, like the others, are a child of no mother and no father, who has been manipulated throughout your life to be who, and what, and where you are today.

“Think for yourself, child. Who would put you in this situation? Who would gain from you and what you are about to do?”

The lich lowered his head. “And that is all that I can tell you. I have never seen her, never met her. But of all her contracts, you are the only one who has survived this long. You hold something more than the others. But I hold nothing more.”

Missy bowed her head and wept, unsure as to what was to come. Her past seemed to be no more - her father, her mother, the glass pendant, the assassination... if she could trust the lich. But she was here - she had to have come from somewhere. Didn’t she?

Heart heavy, she trudged back toward the black fire, allowing the others to walk her through the ritual of burning the lich’s heart. And as the lich’s form finally dissolved away, Missy felt that a tiny piece of her own heart was turning cold and dark, just like the lich’s.

After a few moments, she bade her goodbyes to Stackman’s party. They were setting off to investigate the stack more thoroughly, and Missy needed time to reflect on her latest lack of news and information. Everything she knew and believed in no longer existed, apparently; she’d thought it strange sometimes that her father rarely mentioned her mother, and never talked about visiting relatives during any of his journeys.

Heading off, she tried to sort out this new information in the light of one thing she could trust, the teachings of the zenmasters. There, she could find some concrete pillars to reground her life.

[Bungleau]

Chapter 42: The Past Comes Back

Missy Hissy wandered alone through the halls and corridors of the Great Pyramid, her mind on the whirlwind events that had just transpired. She came to the end of a row of rooms and stopped, suddenly realizing where she was, and that she actually had no idea where she was. Her wizard blade was in her hand, and she could tell from the nicks and scrapes on it that she’d been putting it to use, but it was a testament to her training that she had no idea how. Her body had been in control while her mind was elsewhere.

A child of no mother and no father? But she had a father... and she’d seen him go to his death. Or so she thought... but if he weren’t dead, why hadn’t he tried to find her? Why hadn’t he used any of the covert message systems he had told her about? He must be dead... and even Scanthril had said so. And he had no reason to lie, did he?

Retreating, she saw a pair of ankhs in the rooms she’d passed. She must have slain some mummies there, but her pack was so full that she couldn’t afford to pick them up. Not that she needed them, either. She had more gold than many kingdoms, thanks to her father’s bartering skills and the arrow-making ability she’d picked up as a ranger. Still, there was a part of her that always wanted more, even if she didn’t know why.

She soon found herself in a room with another portal, similar to the one she’d broken in Kerah’s underwater temple. Looking around, she saw no one, and grinning, she started to spin the portal. Activating it, yet for what on the other side? She didn’t know, and in many ways, she didn’t care. Still, it wouldn’t do to leave a possible opening for something to sneak up behind her, so she reached out her hand to stop it from spinning.

Suddenly a voice boomed from behind her. “The Unholy Pharaoh has arisen from the dark sleep. Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah!” Whirling, Missy saw the giant disembodied head which had battled G’Ezzered Ra and taken the lich away. “Cet,” she breathed.

“This portal will never work again,” cried Cet, and with a bolt of energy, he shattered the spinning arm. The force of the explosion threw Missy up against one of the pillars in the room. This was too much... the lich’s truths (or lies, if she doubted him), and then somehow awakening a dead god and inciting his wrath... she didn’t know what to do. From the zenmaster’s training, she knew that every action had a reaction, but what reaction could she expect, dealing with a god? And an evil one at that?

“You have defiled my tomb,” bellowed the dark pharaoh. “Now it shall become your own...” With a burst of magical energy, fire flew from the twin eye sockets and filled the doorway outside, trapping her in the room with the angry god.

Missy straightened, a fresh resolve pouring through her. If she were going to die, she’d do it in style, she decided. Who knows - maybe her magical enchantments, combined with Jathil’s Gezurite mind tricks and the teaching of so many masters would be of use. Then, too, everything descended from the sun source, from the gods themselves. Would an imitation of a god’s skills be able to protect you from one? Time to find out...

She stepped away from the pillar when a flash of white blew through the fiery doorway. Rows of fine feathers suddenly filled her vision as the glowing angel Kerah put herself between Cet and Missy. “No, Cet!” she cried. “Your will shall not be done!”

“Kerah!” boomed Cet. “You are no threat to me! But you have given me a most diabolical scheme...”

“Lord Anephas is reborn,” said Kerah, “and soon shall come to slay thee.”

“Anephas!” roared Cet, casting yet another fiendish spell. “Let’s see if your sweet Anephas will love you now...”

Magical fury surrounded Kerah, exerting itself on her body and her resolve as Cet strove to exert his mastery over her.

“Harm not my child,” hissed Kerah. But the magical energy grew stronger, enjoying its release into the world. Kerah cried out, “The dark lord’s power is too strong. My child, flee from meeeeeee....”

Missy stared in horror as Kerah fell under Cet’s spell. Her face twisted and shifted, and Missy thought she looked more familiar for some reason. Suddenly, she realized... it was shifting to other faces she recognized. Ardibren, the protector of D’Soto who had ultimately betrayed him. Erzebette, she who lived in the forests protected from the wrath of the dragon. Algamesh, who had perished and yet kept love alive inside Kerielle until the final proof of his death had been placed in her hands. Somehow, Kerah was connected to them all.

Kerah looked up at her as her transformation to a pawn of Cet was complete, and Cet barked the orders for her to attack.

Suddenly, Missy saw a face that she recognized, one that struck her to her core. She dropped to her knees, not believing what she saw. “D- Daddy?”

[ 01-09-2004, 11:23 PM: Message edited by: Bungleau ]

[Bungleau]

Chapter 43: The Truth Shall Set You Free

After Stackman’s adventurers had come to Missy Hissy’s rescue, saving her from Kerah’s sword and administering holy water to release her from Cet’s spell, Missy looked up at Kerah with tears in her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked plaintively.

“My child,” began Kerah.

“Don’t call me that!” snapped Missy. “I don’t know whose child I am.”

“But you are my child,” Kerah continued, “though you may not realize it. You were not of my womb, but I was there when you were born, and took you away to become who you are. “

Missy shook her head in disbelief. “But my father...” She looked up. “What happened? Who am I, and who are you?”

Kerah responded. “I am Kerah, goddess of this world. I have been known by many names as it suited me, including the father or mother to all of my children. You are Missy Hissy, child of another flesh but a child of my raising. You knew me as your father. As I have done many times before, I sensed a presence within you at your conception and followed it through to your birth. When you were born, I knew that you had something extra inside you that made you different, stronger than most other offspring. Moments after your birth, I took you away to raise you to become that something special.”

“You took me from my parents?” asked Missy, her mind flying furiously with all this new information. “Why?”

“I have searched for centuries for the perfect champion,” Kerah said, “one who could stand tall in battle with evil. I knew there had to be a spark, a fire inside that could drive such a champion, and I tried many times. A lizard, a pig, a tiger...they didn’t last. Too much reliance on brawn. The elephant was too slow and easily defeated, while the butterfly was too flighty and couldn’t focus.”

“Lizards? Pigs? What are you talking about?” asked Missy, confused.

“The champions who came before,” said Kerah. “Ignarok was a pig in more ways than one, and when she scented trouble, she chased it instead of avoiding it. Algamesh spent too much time with love, and finally died from it. D’Soto was from the monkey race, but he relied on others too much, and failed the contract.”

“What do you mean, the contract?”

Kerah smiled self-consciously. “The contract... what better way to be sure that your champion can fight the forces of evil than to call evil onto him? I did that with each of my children, to ensure that they would be true champions and not falter at the end.”

“You... you put out contracts to kill your own children?” A strange feeling was coming over Missy, something that her zenmaster training had not prepared her for. “I say it again... why?”

Kerah’s arms opened wide. “This... all this... is mine. I found it, I cultured it, and I grew it. All the animals are here because I raised them. The fish, the monkeys, the pigs, even the rats. This was my garden, where I could rest and relax.”

Her arms dropped down, and her stare hardened. “And then HE came... Cet, ruining my garden, poisoning my plants, turning my plants and animals against me. Anephas, the most loyal of my dogs, tried to do battle, but failed. Always thinking too much, and not acting. He fought to a draw, though, and that removed Cet and his evil from the world for a while. But I knew he would come back... that he would find a way. And ultimately, he did - offering a dream of power unto the lich, who could not see beyond the illusion. I needed someone stronger, someone to make sure he leaves. The laws prevent me from battling him myself, though he breaks those same laws.”

Kerah’s eyes misted over. “So I searched, with each litter, for a pup that I could raise to do battle with him. Several were promising, but only you have lasted.” She gazed at Missy. “Do you think you would be here now, if you were raised by a goat herder on the Rattkin plains? No, you would be nothing special, no more than a low-priced floozy or a common barmaid. You have spoken with gods and dragons, seen the dead rise, uncovered ancient treasures... I have given you so much more, the abilities and knowledge you have taken to so many heights. Is it any wonder Damosh respected you? Great as he is, he saw in you his equal, and when you left, wept that he had not found you three decades ago.”

Missy felt a strange tug in her heart, as if the tiny part of her heart that shriveled when she burned the lich’s heart were suddenly moving and growing. “So let me get this straight. You ripped me from my parents at birth, and manipulated me throughout my life in the hopes that I’d be able to take care of the guy who came to play in your sandbox and wouldn’t leave? And this isn’t the first time you’ve ripped a family apart to do this, not the first time you’ve slaughtered your own kin?”

Kerah smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that...”

Missy stood up tall, her voice icy. “I’m sure there’s even more to you than I now know, queen of lies. Well then... I guess I’ve got a job to go do.”

She turned her back on Kerah and left the room.

[Bungleau]

Chapter 44: Final Question

Continuing on from Stackman’s Adventures, Chapter forty-two

As Stackman’s party escorted the frustrated demi-god from the heart of the Great Stack, Missy Hissy stepped forward after disrupting Cet’s attack. “Spawn of evil!” she cried. “You have done naught to deserve this land, and I will see that you leave it.”

Picking up her Mavin sword, charged from the black fire after burning the lich’s heart, she swung mightily, Mavin in one hand, enchanted Wakizashi in the other. The second weapon did no damage, but it did serve to keep Cet confused as to which weapon was actually causing him pain. Still, the Mavin did not do as much damage as Missy’s enchanted wizard’s blade would have, and the battle promised to be long and torturous.

Cet roared his displeasure and launched firestorm after firestorm at Missy, expecting her to crumble to the ground, collapsing into ashes as so many had done before. Yet again, Jathil’s Gezurite mind tricks, combined with the enchantments she had applied at the wizard’s guild, left Missy standing tall and untouched from the magical fire.

“For what do you battle, child,” asked Cet as he threw a meteor at her. “Does your precious Kerah care whether you succeed... or fail?”

“She’s not mine,” swore Missy, striking a blow with the Mavin that struck heavily into the unpadded area near Cet’s ear. “And success is all up to me.”

Cet grunted from the hit. “Success... if you defeat me, what will that mean? She can give you nothing of what you desire. I can give you your true family, your true father.”

“What do you know of that?” spat Missy, watching her blades bounce harmlessly yet again.

“I have watched all her pitiful ploys, seen her treachery for generations. You know of the children she betrayed with the lich’s help; did you know there were a dozen others like him, all eager to betray everything for the trinkets she promised? Every year another family wailed the disappearance of their child. Every year, another child took another of her pathetic tests of adulthood. Every year, another child was crushed, thrown away like the crust at the end of a piece of bread. And every year, she dumped the body of that used-up child back at their original family, ripping afresh the wound of losing their child.”

“I know of that,” said Missy through clenched teeth. “At least, most of it. But none of that matters to me.”

Cet threw an icestorm, trying a different spell. “Three children survived her twisted test of manhood. Or womanhood, if you prefer. You. D’Soto. And Anephas. Of the three, you are the only one who has not died yet.”

Missy thought grimly of the flashes of light she had experienced early on, when the gods cast their reverse time spells in times of great tragedy and disaster. “Perhaps. But what does that matter?” She launched her blades again, taking satisfaction in the gout of blood that was welling from Cet’s cheek.

Cet grinned evilly, the blood on his head shining crimson in the flickering torchlight. “Do you think she cares for this place? Do you think she cares for you? For those you claim to defend? She thinks only of herself. First, last, and always.”

“And you are different?” asked Missy.

“I make no pretenses of what I want,” responded Cet. “I want this land. I want to mold it to my will. I want to bring forth new and wondrous things that interest me. I want to mix the hydra and the jungle lily to see what they might make. I care little for the other beings in this world, but neither do I pretend to care. I offer them what they want for their assistance, and deliver what I promise. They call me the lord of evil, but what evil is in the truth? Is there not more evil in lies?”

“Evil is neither truth nor lie,” said Missy, swinging the Mavin with renewed vigor. “It simply needs to be removed.” Her blade again struck true, drawing another line of ghoulish ichor across Cet’s face. She had been striking true, and dripping lines criss-crossed Cet’s demonic head.

As Missy and Cet circled each other yet again, Stackman’s adventurers entered back into the room. The barbarian drew another Mavin sword, and the zenmaster stepped forward with the staff of death. Each was glowing with the unholy essence of the black fire. Missy glanced at the elite group, and sheathing her wakizashi for a moment, pulled her own staff of death from her pack and tossed it toward the valkyrie, allowing another combatant into the fray. “Catch!” she cried.

The valkyrie reached out to catch the staff, but at her touch, it shimmered for a moment, and then exploded with tremendous force, releasing all its black fire-induced energy in a matter of milliseconds and sending everyone in the room tumbling head over heels from the concussion. Except for Cet, that is, who tumbled forehead over chin. Apparently some things were not allowed to cross between domains in the Gael Serran, and violating those laws carried severe penalties.

The wizard and the bard were furthest from the explosion and recovered first. Taking stock of the party’s status, they doled out healing as fast as they could spin spells. They had heard of what happened when a wand’s body was broken, and this was far, far worse.

“Stop!” called Cet. “I have seen enough. I have a bargain for you. You have proven yourself to be a worthy adversary. Have you considered how much more... formidable... we could be as allies? I must inhabit a new host. Think of what you could do with my power! We could rule this land together. Will you let me take over your body as my new host?”

Missy stopped dead in her tracks, the events of the past several months flying to her head. Join Cet? Become a god, like Kerah? Return to Kerah what she had given Missy over these years, and now, these past few minutes? What did she care of good or evil now? Why was she here, anyway? To fulfill Kerah’s bidding... perhaps. Did she want to? After all Kerah had put her through?

But... could she trust Cet? Was this another bargain like the lich’s bargain, covered in promise but built on hatred and abuse? Or could she override his will, much as she was overriding his physical abilities now in battle? She had learned much in the recent past... but what had the dark pharaoh learned in the past nine hundred years?

She didn’t know. And as she contemplated, the zenmaster spoke her name.

[Bungleau]

Chapter 45: Check... and mate

As the zenmaster and the rest left the chamber in search of Stackman, Missy Hissy looked at Kerah and Anephas as they approached.

“You have done well,” said Anephas, “defeating the dark lord. Still, there is one thing to weigh on your soul. If you-“

“Step aside, puppy,” said Missy, elbowing past him and squaring up to Kerah. The words of the zenmaster rang in her ears, that she was truly of divine birth in some way. She didn’t know how deeply she believed it to be true... but what if it were? Stories abounded of children sired by gods, born of the twisted liaison between a god and a human. Or a goddess and a human... perhaps that was why she knew so little of her mother.

“Kerah!” she barked. “Your litterbox is clean. Yet it is fouled again by your presence... why is that?”

“But the Mavin...” continued Anephas.

Missy turned. “Oh, be quiet! Do you think she cares a whit about the Mavin? Do you think she cares a whit about my soul? Do you think she cares about you? Not at all.”

Anephas’ face darkened. “You speak of things you know not. Watch what you say, lest your immortal soul be released early.”

Missy stared at him unrelentlessly. “You think I know nothing... did you not even look at the walls of your tomb? For centuries, Kerah tried to build one champion after another against Cet. You were but the latest in a line of toys, each one made differently than the last. You were good enough to cripple Cet, but not good enough to remove him. It’s taken her nine hundred years of rolling the dice to get someone with better skills and abilities than you, and I’m it. The last of the toy soldiers.”

Anephas clenched his jaw. “I am not a toy. I know nothing of toys.”

Missy stared at Anephas for a moment. “Did you have a father?”

Anephas crossed his arms. “I did, but he died when I was young. There was no time for playing after that. He gave me some knowledge before he was killed, and Kerah helped me learn after that.”

Missy shrugged. “Same thing happened to me. Dad was killed, I was orphaned. Except my dad’s standing over there, with wings. Or at least the person I thought was my dad... who put a contract out on my life. I heard a bard sing about such things at the Jhereg Boinger tavern in the Cleft Land... many times over. Don’t suppose you had a mother, either?”

Anephas responded grimly. “She died much younger... all I had to remember her was a -“

“A glass pendant?” asked Missy. She reached into her pack. “This one is all I have to remember my mother by. I thought it was precious when I was younger... Miruth identified it as a legendary piece of cursed jewelry, part of the Red Hair Ring.”

Anephas took the pendant in his hands. “I used to have a single piece of jewelry to remember my mother by....” Anephas looked at Kerah. “What is this, Kerah? What is the meaning of this?”

Kerah shrugged her shoulders, annoyed by the conversation but not bothered by it. “You were very important to me and to the land, Anephas. Where you came from is unimportant... look at all you did!”

“Flooding a city, ending a race, and destroying a land... these are all things I did at your bidding, Kerah. I look at what I did, and I weep.”

Missy spoke up. “The city still lives, though differently. And the race... the living tree is now spawning, and within a century, shall be fruitful again. And the land... what one rejects, another shall seek. Even in the most desolate of deserts, there is still life. I have seen it.”

Kerah stepped between Anephas and Missy. “All well and good, but the issue now is the Mavin sword. Relinquish it and go on with your life, lest it consume you as it has so many others.”

“Really, Kerah?” said Missy. “Everything I’ve seen and heard tells me that the Mavin doesn’t cause problems. It’s the messes you get into trying to fulfill that oath. No Mavin wielder has died in centuries from the blade, but from greed or foolishness. And perhaps both are the same.”

Anephas spoke again. “Is this true, Kerah? Have you lied to me these many years?”

Kerah paused. “Well, it’s not exac- no,not - no. I never lied to you.”

Anephas asked again, “But did you tell me the truth?”

The silence in the chamber was deafening.

Anephas turned to Missy. “Long have I lived, and long have I died. Now living again, I see how little I lived. You are welcome to the sword. Perhaps you are its equal.”

He faced Kerah. “You, I grieve. In the afterworld, I dreamt of your presence. I now dream of your absence.”

Anephas walked toward the lava entryway, pausing for a moment. “The lich knew he sold his soul for immortal life, and chose to pay the cost. Would that I have known the cost of what you sold me, Kerah. I leave you... nothing. There is only silence.”

Kerah looked at the retreating Anephas with a strange glint in her eye. “I don’t need you anyway,” she mumbled. She turned to Missy. “Now what?”

Missy stood still, her body frozen. She wanted more than anything to kill Kerah, to avenge her loss of childhood, of family, of friendship... but to do so would be retribution, not justice. And young though she was in the ways of zen, she did not want to incur such a large karmic debt. Not yet, at least. Now what?

“I wish to end your miserable life,” Missy said. “More than anything. But as the old saying goes, a coward dies a thousand deaths while a brave man dies but one. As many as you have slain, so too should you be slain.”

Missy unsheathed the Mavin, the dark fire glowing bright blue in the reddish cavern. “I do not know if I can kill a god, or a goddess. But I can call down the wrath of the gods on those who do not play the game.”

The Mavin rose high in the air as Missy called forth the gods of Ironworks, the deities of the Gael Serran, and the souls of the parents and children that Kerah had so callously toyed with. She brought the blade next to Kerah’s face.

“May the water where you swam refuse to give you life,” intoned Missy, and the black fire leapt lightly from the Mavin, sealing Kerah’s gills.

The blade next moved to Kerah’s shoulder.

“May the air where you flew refuse to give you support.” The black fire jumped to one shoulder and then the next, working into the muscles of her wings and clipping them.

The blade moved toward Kerah’s feet.

“May the land where you walked refuse to give you purchase.” The black fire shot down to Kerah’s feet, opening sores that festered and could not be healed.

The blade moved toward Kerah’s chest.

“And may the fire where you loved refuse to give you another chance.” The last of the black fire from the Mavin short forth into Kerah’s heart, turning it into a dark, hard stone.

Missy stepped back, the Mavin spent, and looked at Kerah. “For all I have done, and all I have been, I curse you. As a warrior, may you know abuse. As a samurai, may you know dishonor. As a ranger, may you know nature’s rejection. As a paladin, may you know distrust. As a ninja, may you know the eye of the world. As an assassin, may you know eternal death. And as a zenmaster, may you know all these things until such a day as you can repay all those you have wronged to their satisfaction.”

Kerah stared at Missy, the black fire dancing around the cavern. She took a step, but the pain and rejection of all Missy’s curses struck at once. “Noooooooo!” Kerah screamed, collapsing into a ball on the floor.

Missy looked down sadly. “Perhaps I betray my own karma with my actions, and I accept it. I leave you, sad child, that I may find my own family and return, neither with them nor without them.”

Missy dropped the glass pendant next to Kerah’s quivering body. “May it serve its true purpose,” she said, and stepped forward to return to Brimloch Roon.

[Bungleau]

Chapter the next: After the Fire

The story finishes here.

A million thanks to bsftcs for getting me out of my rut and getting this completed. *B*

[Bungleau]

Epilogue

The sun rose high early in the morning as Missy Hissy, alone once again, descended from the mountains of Anuram. A small village lay below, sheltered in the crags of the mountain and fed by the river that flowed from it. Her questions of the past few days had been answered truly; perhaps this was the town she sought, like so many others before.

Her feet left scant footprints in the moist dew, bending not the grass but disturbing the tiny beads of water. Like many places where life depended on life, the village was already bustling under the early sun. Daylight hours were working hours, and if you didn’t work, you didn’t have any food. Or clothing. Or warmth. Or... the list went on.

Bardsong had led her to this town. The tales, sad but true, of heartbreak and loss that filled the taverns were both entertainment and history. Those who ignored the past were doomed to repeat it, and the bards ensured that for beer and bread, doom could be avoided. Like so many towns before, this one cried over a lost child from years ago. Was this finally the one?

She walked past an older rattkin, a prospector loading his wagon for the day’s work. “Greetings,” she said in the old tongue.

He looked at her, spat out a wad of tobacco, and looked her up and down. “Greetings back,” he replied. “You’re not from around here by your clothes, and if you’ve an interest in robbing me, you’ll take pretty poor profit in it. Perhaps at the end of the day, but there’s no certainty in that. And if ye take what I have here, my family will surely be hungry this week.”

“I seek nothing but information,” said Missy. “Rest your guard.”

The prospector looked at her again. “Information can be the most deadly weapon of all. What seek ye?”

Missy cleared her throat. Although she’d opened the discussion many times before, it wasn’t getting any easier. “I’ve heard talk of a tragedy here, from years ago. Of a child who was taken. Of a-“

The prospector abruptly turned around, throwing the last of his gear in the rickety wagon. “Move on to the next town and peddle your wares,” he said, “before I call the wrath of Kerah down on ye. After twenty-five years, ye think the leeches would stop...”

Missy raised a hand. “Please, wait! I sell nothing, and I seek nothing... at least, nothing to take from you, or anyone else here.”

The prospector glared. “Yeah, and that’s what the last three said. ‘I don’t want anything’... and they didn’t do anything except rip open old wounds. Let the dead lie, or join them. Your choice. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to try to find something to put bread on the table today.” With a final hostile glare, he yanked the reins and led his burro back up the mountain path.

“Don’t mind Jeremiah... he gets cranky when the mountain hides her treasures.”

Missy turned to see another rattkin, dark hair streaked with silver highlights that betrayed her age. Or perhaps bragged of it. “I can understand,” said Missy. “When I lost my... father, there were many trying to take advantage of me, and few who actually cared about me. Can I ask who you are?”

“Name’s Millicent. I run the tavern here in town, such as it is. More a restaurant, really; we don’t get call for a lot of drinking and such out here, not since... But anyway, what are you looking for?”

“Answers, mostly,” said Missy. “And perhaps a question or two. They take me more places than answers do.”

Millicent smiled. “They are more valuable, to be sure. But let’s start with the answers. Care to sit down for breakfast?”

Missy sat down to breakfast as Millicent brought out a basket with crusty muffins and something that passed for fruit. “Jeremiah mentioned something of old wounds... by chance, did he lose something important? Something irreplaceable?”

Millicent sat down with a hard face. “Straight to the heart, eh? Yes, Jeremiah did lose something. Something that was both of ours, many years ago. We were young and foolish, and as sometimes happens, gave into that foolishness. We paid a price, and some short time later, I was expecting a child. It was not a good time for either of us, and we cried a lot about it. We even prayed to Kerah to help us out of our situation, but that didn’t work. I gave birth to a daughter, but we discovered that love for each other wasn’t enough to put food on the table or a roof over the bed. We struggled, until one day the problem was simply gone. We awoke one morning to find our daughter’s bed empty, save for a single feather.” Millicent’s eyes grew misty.

“We searched, for days and days. Not a trace, not a sound. Our daughter was gone forever. Over the last twenty-five years, we’ve heard from all manner of hoodlums, cheats, and well-meaning people who claim to have found her, or seen her. But nothing from them... not a thing. Some came to take our money, some to take our hearts, and some... just to torture us, I think.”

Millicent continued. “We did learn one thing that day... We learned that there are things more important than food or a roof. And that with another, you can stand strong against anything. Even a broken heart from a lifetime ago.”

Noises came from the kitchen, and a young rattkin came out, a bounce in her step and a twinkle in her eye. “Morning, Momma,” she said.

Millicent dabbed her eyes. “Morning, little missy,” she replied, exchanging kisses. “We have a visitor today. Miss....” She looked at Missy inquisitively.

“Ahm... Hissy. Who’s this?” asked Missy.

“Well, Hissy, after fifteen years of grieving about our missing daughter, we decided that we had wept enough. Little Renata was born, and she has helped our hearts heal. Or mine, at least. Jeremiah still grieves, though he hides it.”

“Morning, Miss Hissy,” said Renata, dropping to a small curtsy.

“I’m impressed,” said Missy. “Good morning to you as well, Renata.”

Millicent beamed. “Now Renata, I’m glad to see you’ve got your manners today. But run along and get ready. Your Auntie Kay will be here later, and you’ve got to be ready.”

Renata smiled and headed back into the kitchen.

Millicent continued. “It’s never easy to lose a child. And Renata can never replace our lost Raja. Still, we’ve moved on, as we must. As we all must. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must prepare for the day’s meals.”

She stood up and began clearing the table. “Oh, I almost forgot... your questions. Here are my two favorite questions: First, was it worth it? And second, would you change the past if you could, knowing that the outcome could be worse? They’ve kept me strong these twenty-five years, and perhaps they have something for you.”

As she retreated into the kitchen, Missy stared long and hard into her plate. Taking a scrap of charcoal from the fireplace and the blank piece of vellum that kept reappearing in her pouch, she wrote a quick note.

“I know of your sorrow, and of your pain. And while I cannot change the past, nor would I, I can change the future. Please take these as a gift, to support your life and to support Renata in her dreams. And you in yours...”

Missy stepped up and away from the table, leaving the note under a heavy sack of gold. With the sack she left two more things... a glass pendant and a ring of mother of pearl, shaped like a winged mermaid. Except now, the ring was pure and brilliant white.