Fidelity of the Knights

Chapter One: Stones on Flesh

Sweat covered my body, causing my cloths to stick to my skin. 
Two years. That’s how long I’d been searching for them. They would be the only ones willing to take me in. I’d only be safe with them, at least until this damned war is over.

Who are these people you ask? They’re the White Knights; at least that’s what everyone calls them. No one knows if that’s the name they gave themselves or the name the people bestowed upon them in the hope they would fulfill its implications.  If you want an idea of who the White Knights are, then you must know what they do and why they do it. 

We live in a nation called Ineri. It's small, made up mostly of woods and prairie, surrounded on all sides by larger, less peaceful countries. The only reason no one's bothered to take us over yet is  they would gain nothing. The entire country is tinted grey, even the people! Our small, boney heard-deer’s meat is stringy and tasteless due to our hard, unforgiving ground, ground that can only seem to sustain short coarse grass and the occasional scraggly bush.  The main sources of food for the common folk are prairie rats and the small deer that that we corral and treat like goats. The deer eat anything and everything, even each other if it comes to it.  If there were a specific area in our country that grows  nothing edible and has even the smallest splash of color, it would be the northern region where the forest lies. This is also where City Central -our countries capitol-  stands, shipping out its meager goods to the rest of us poor, hopeless commoners.
 
As poor as we are, there is one country that took interest in us: Palikiea.  Palikiean soldiers crossed our border one day three, long years ago and have been killing, pilfering, and ruining the common folk ever since.  The already-hungry people were left starving and dying with nowhere to turn but City Central, which has been ignoring us since the beginning. Its high walls, offering the hope for protection from the invaders, draw flocks of peasants like moths to fire. Their hopes rarely meet reality. The Quar, our king, recently deployed his own guard, not to fight back the invaders but arrest those who would join the White Knights and call for new leadership.  

The White Knights lead the quest for change. They are, in a nutshell,  a group of rebels that travel around Ineri fighting the invaders, performing acts of kindness and giving a safe haven to those who have nowhere else to go or no means to reach Central. Safe haven is what I was seeking in that gods-forsaken, never ending, plain of grass.  We common folk live on the prairie or the Plains as it is so 'lovingly' called. We can't call it a prairie, prairies are beautiful places with tall, lush grass and flowers; the Plains are the exactly the opposite. The short grass would be more likely to stab your feet than provide a soft, lush cushion.  At least, that's how I pictured regular grass to be. I had never actually seen any before.  I grew up on the Plains with my mother, father and little brother.  We lived in a tiny village, one of the thousands dotting the bleak landscape.  We’d led a good life, well, as good as you can manage on the Plains.  As the oldest child my father taught me to hunt as best he could. When he was younger he had been bitten by a diseased prairie rat. His leg was amputated, so when he taught me I knew I had to learn fast and well so I could take over providing food for our small family.  When I was too young to hunt, a neighbor of ours had taken it upon himself to help my family stay alive.  My father made a living by crafting knives from the limitless supply of iron stones on the Plains, providing our village with weapons-though we only used them to hunt before the war.

The war. The war was the reason my family - my village - was dead. The reason I will never feel my father’s strong arms cradling me again. Never hear my mother’s laugh or see her smile. Never joke with my eight year old brother.  Never have a real home again.  The war is why I became one of the hundreds walking aimlessly around my country, trying to find protection from the ruthless invaders- trying to find the White Knights. But after two years of stumbling around in this worn, scarred body I doubt I'll ever find them.  Whenever I walked pass refugees traveling to City Central I was struck by how hopeless they looked, how emaciated, how pathetic. Yet when they saw me their eyes showed pity. Sometimes they would toss me scraps, which only made me question the worth of my journey more, it made me despair that such a needy people feel sorry for me.

 Countless times I've thought of giving up my search for the White Knights and lifelessly joining the tramp of refugees to City Central. But I know I can’t. Palikieans swarm the road to our capitol, and while others could fight back or outrun the soldiers, I on the other hand wouldn't stand a chance. Even now, as I stagger on mindlessly, every movement makes my haggard body ache. I feel like a dead lass walking, as if at any moment I'll be struck down by some unseen force.  Who knows, maybe I'll be transported to where all the countries medics and healers have seemed to vanished too.  I won't moving though. No matter how long it takes me, no matter how far,  I will not stop until I find them or I'll die trying.  I’m stubborn that way, I don’t like quitting anything, to the point that I could inflict bodily harm to anyone trying to stop me.  It’s a flaw, I suppose, but it’s kept me alive this long. 

I glowered up at the sun - its blistering heat beating down on me unceasingly, making me sweat out my precious water supply. One cloud, I thought to no god in particular, Just send one cloud! Give me just one second of reprieve!  Like always, no response. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, I spent more time cursing the gods than praying to them, why wouldn’t they hate me as much as I hate them?
  
I groaned when another gust of hot, dusty wind battered my body, stinging my eyes and making my already-dry skin cracked and painful.  I stumbled only a little, but it was enough to send me tumbling to the ground spitting out dirt and curses when I hit. Painfully, I pushed myself off the patch of thorn I landed on, but as I got to my hands and knees, I froze.  There was a pair of  ragged shoes standing before me.  Good gods there was someone right in front of me!  Slowly, I raised my head and stared into the cool, grey eyes of a man with a long jagged scar on his chin. I stared at that scar, feeling all my rising hysteria fade into  shock.  Stories about the famed leader of the White Knights, about that scar, were well known among travelers like myself.  He received it while battling against five Palikiean brutes, killing all and bearing only that scar as a result.  But is it really him? Am I really looking at Merdain, commander of the White Knights.

A deep, rusty voice rasped from his throat, (which was actually very comical considering he was a twig)  “Well what do we have here?”  

I scrambled up to my feet (with up-most grace of course), wincing as the sudden movement reopened a recent scrape on my right leg. I opened my mouth but the words I had been about to spew lodged in my throat.  I was mute, my mouth hanging open like I was an idiot. He cocked a thin grey eyebrow and stared my scared body up and down, not with the usual mix of pity and disgust, but with intrigue and something else that I couldn’t place.

“A bit scrawny for a Palikiean.”  He mused.  I bristled. I wasn’t scrawny, well..yes I was- but I definitely wasn't a Palikiean! 

I forced my mouth shut then opened it again with new gusto, this time the words came, scratching against my throat.  “Am- am I close to the White Knights?” 

“And why are ye lookin’ for ‘em?”

I licked my lips in an attempt to moisten them, but my mouth was so dry it only irritated them. “I, I want to join them-you, I mean..if you are you, you know what I mean? I want to ask for safety….” I trailed off. (gods I was such a mess)

“Well, I am me, and as far as safety goes how am I teh know that ye ain’t jest a Palikiean come teh give our location away?” What is he talking about?! I look nothing like one of those black-haired slimeballs! I feel the smartass coming! Don't, don't-

“Well, it can’t be that well hidden since a lowly peasant girl to blow your cover."  I snipped.
 
He raised his other brow, paused, (for dramatic affect I suppose)  then sneered at me. “Oh really now?  Do ye see any other livin’ creature around here?  No, is jest you and me. Now tell me this lass, why should I trust that yer not just Palikiean scum?”

My eyes narrowed angrily.  Was this what I had searched so long for?  A pointless inquisition on my ethnicity?  “Palikieans did this to me.” I gestured at my scared body. My face was patchy with burns that lined the edges of both my mouth and eyes.  My arms and most of my lower back, stomach and right leg were marred with awful, still-healing burns. “Two years ago my village was destroyed by Palikiean flames. I am, as far as I know, the only survivor.”

Merdain (I think I've established that he is Merdain)  scrutinized me for a moment before pointing to my left eye. “Can ye see out of it?”

“A little, yes.” My eyes were both damaged, but the left a little more so.

He sighed, shook his head and curled his lip in disgust, though I wasn’t sure if it was for me or the Palikiean’s who were responsible for my condition.  “Fine, ye can stay with us. Gertrude would kill me if I jest left ye here.” 

"Don't get too excited there." I muttered as he gestured for me to follow him.  I struggled to keep up with his fast strides, but the farther we walked across the Plain, the more excited I got. 

My anger towards Merdain faded away leaving only giddiness behind.  I couldn’t believe it!  Not five minutes ago I was sure I would die trying to find the White Knights and now here I was, being escorted to their camp by Merdain himself! Never mind that he's a pretentious- no no, you're happy-happy! 
    
As we walked I wondered how he had so silently approached me; I hadn’t heard a thing when he crept up in front of me!  Granted, my senses weren't exactly what they used to be.  I glanced over at him curiously. He wasn’t like I expected him to be. The stories I’d heard all made him out to be a mighty warrior, come to save us from the Palikieans!  But he didn’t look all that mighty to me.  Like I said before, he was thin, almost boney, with shoulder length grey hair that stuck out in wisps around his head. A ratty brown shirt and pants hung unimpressively on his body.  All in all, he looked like any other starving peasant.  The only things about him that resembled the stories were his eyes, and that scar. His eyes- his eyes were the color of a storm that was preparing to break and release its downpour.  Eyes that made you trust and, at the same time, fear him.   How could such a man ever take down five Palikieans!?  I looked down at his belt where a short sword hung in a  patched, deer-hide scabbard.  I imagined how skilled he must be with that sword for a skinny man like him to be leader of the White Knights.

                              ------------------------------------------

It felt like hours before we finally 'entered' camp, but I knew it hadn't been near that long. Still, I was panting and exhausted Damn him and his strong legs!   All I wanted was a comfy rock to sleep on.  I stared around at the camp; it wasn’t at all like I imagined.  I  had been expecting a jumble of sloppily arranged tents, maybe a few scattered fires.  Instead I saw tents in neat rows, several small fires - not even fires but burning coals- all of which was hidden from prying eyes by a rare (but not unheard of) hill.  As  we walked through people looked up and called greetings to Merdain, but I was met with quizzical stares and double takes. But unlike most of the places I’d tried to take refuge, I saw others that appeared to be in similar or worse condition than I.  Well, at least I still had hair.  They were all much, much older than me though.

“So,” Merdain started,  “Do ye want teh join our cause, or are ye just here for a safe place teh sleep?”

I cocked my head to the side.  “Well, it’s not like I can do much even if I wanted to fight. I’m still…” I hesitated, racking my brain for the right word- found it, “…recovering from my injuries. And I’ve never even swung a blade before.”

“Ah,” he began. “Maybe ye never swung a blade, but I couldn’t help but notice the knives under yer belt. I bet that’s what ye used teh hunt the prairie rats.  Even women know how teh kill in some manner when they live on the Plains.” He mused.

Grimacing, I pulled out one of my precious ironstone knives, made by my father especially for me. They used to be my pride, my most refined skill.  Actually they were my only real skill, but that was before my body was burned and my eyes damaged. It was hard enough to move normally so accurately throwing a knife was a distant memory.  “Well, with this eye,” I gestured to my face  "I’d be lucky to hit a wagon, let alone a Palikiean. If that was what I was here to do,” I finished firmly, turning to give him a pointed glare.

His eyes narrowed and he glared right back.  It might have been a frightening sight if he didn't have such a strangely kind face.

 “How good were ye at throwin’ before ye were crippled?”

I shrugged, Oh gods that hurt! Bad idea- don't do that again. “I was the food provider for my family."  He looked slightly impressed, I think.  I don't know why though, plenty of women are the hunters in their family!  True, I was only sixteen-  but there were plenty of girls my age doing what I had!   The village I called home was almost on the other side of the country, food was especially scarce there.  If I  hadn't learned to catch Rats my family would have gone hungry.

“Interesting,” he mused.  He stopped abruptly and I nearly fell over trying not to crash into him.  He reached a hand out and grabbed my shoulder, steadying me.  I winced and tried to pull away, but he hardened his grip.  It was like iron!  “What if, He said, looking me in he eyes, " I told ye that there was a way teh heal yer body, completely.”

I gaped up at him in amazement.  “What?” 

He continued to stare intently at me, “Yes, there is a way. I can take ye teh someone who can fix things like this.”

My mouth started working up and down, but nothing came out except a “uhwm” noise.  “A treatment?  For this?” I pointed to my burns.  “How is that even possible?”

“But there would be a price,” he continued, ignoring my questions; which annoyed me out of my stupor. My mind became alert and I straightened up a bit, suspicion rising inside my mind. Of course there's a catch, there always is. 

“Price? Even if I wanted this 'treatment', what would this price be exactly?”

He smirked. “Why, only the promise that if yer abilities were…needed… ye would agree teh help us in our...endeavor.”

I narrowed my eyes.  “Sir, I just arrived here after wandering around the Plains for months-years!  I haven’t eaten in days, I'm only one foot in here and you’re already trying to lure me to fight? I came here in search of safety and to be left alone, nothing else.”  I waited for him to respond, crossing my arms and instantly regretting it.  If there was one place on my body that was the worst burned, it would be my arms. 

“Ye would pass up the opportunity teh be healed, all because we might ask ye teh fight for yer country?”  He stepped toward me, fuming.  “Be reminded that I allowed ye teh come here, and I can jest as easily send ye on yer way,” he snarled.

I pursed my dry lips,  my stubborn nature began to kick in.  "Fine.  Send me away. I’m not here to be a slaughterer. I came here because I heard that the White Knights weren’t like the Quar, that they would help people.  Guess I was wrong.” I turned on my heel ripping my shoulder from his grasp, and biting back a yelp as my scarred skin screamed in protest.  I limped back the way we’d come. He sighed and pressed his hand gently on my shoulder.

“Fine, fine, ye don’t have teh fight. Ye don’t even have teh take treatment if ye don’t want teh. At least talk teh the one who makes it, I won’t force it on ye.”

Frowning up at him I considered his offer.  What am I doing?  I can't pass up this opportunity to get my life back!  “Okay.  Okay, yes. I’ll talk to him.”

“Her,” he corrected. “Good. Come with me, Gertrude will have a field day when she gets a hold of ye.”

                       ------------------------------------------------------

I knew from the moment I saw Gertrude that she was a tough little old lady. Curly grey hair topped a short, round body.  There didn’t seem to be any part of her that wasn’t covered in wrinkles. What drew me, however, was the spark of defiance in everything she’s did and the way she scolded Merdain for bursting in on her. I could tell she was the kind of woman who had her own way of doing things, and who wouldn’t be swayed to performing otherwise.

“Gertrude…” Merdain began, but she silenced him with a wave of a pudgy hand.

“Don’t even stawt, Merdain, if you’re here teh ask faw more 
Lispon leaves, yer outta luck.” 

I bit back a snicker.  Lispon leaves were used to soothe rashes, among other things….I guess that means she's a healer, haven't seen one of those in a while.

“No Gertrude,” he growled, glaring at me. Maybe I hadn’t hidden my amusement as much as I’d thought. “I have someone here for ye, someone who is interested in the…'treatment.'”  He gestured at me and I furrowed my brows. Why did he say it like that?

Gertrude glanced over at me as if she had only just realized I was there.  “Well now, yeer in sorry shape now ain’t yee. What‘s yeer name lass?”

“Caleigh Rove, ma’am.”

She looked me up and down then turned he attention back to Merdain.  “All right, I’ll take it from here. Yee can go back teh yeer lee-der-ship duties.” she mocked while waving him away.  She didn’t take her eyes off him until he ducked through the tent flap.  She gestured for me to sit on a small, wooden chair. 

As I lowered myself, I experienced a mixture of pain and relief as my skin pulled at a few still-tender scars and my muscles relaxed. Gertrude wheeled about and began rifling through a clutter of flasks and jars. I took the opportunity to get a better look at the tent. It was bigger than most I had seen in the camp with enough room for a wooden pot, a small stone table and wooded boxes upon wooden boxes of herbs, potions and jars filled with gods-know-what. Pushed to the side was a small cot and blanket, obviously not as important as the rest of the items in the tent. I wondered how she carried all this with her when the White Knights move. Maybe some of the men carry it.  The thought of her strapping boxes to Merdain's back like he was a mule made me havea to fight hard against my laughter.

When Gertrude finally turned back to me I snapped my head around, embarrassed that I had been inspecting her home. I lifted my gaze to her face for a moment and suddenly wished I was back with Merdain. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.  It was as if I was a strange animal under her inspection.  From the look on her face I got the impression she didn’t like what she saw.

“Here, yee look like yee haven’t had a real meal in days,” she said holding out a dried piece of meat, probably prairie rat. I took it gratefully.  She was right.  Since I could no longer use my knives, I had to rely the scraps I could find at selling stations in villages I passed or that refugees gave me. I bit in hungrily and struggled to chew the hard, stringy meat.  After a few minutes Gertrude spoke, “How long its been since yee were burned?”

I swallowed my almost-mouth-full and coughed, “About two years.  Merdain told me there’s a treatment… that you could give me?”

“Aye.”  That was all she said, still staring unceasingly at me.

“Well,” I began, “...Can I try it?” 

Suddenly a pained look swept across face her, as if what I said made her sad. “Aye, that yee can. But there will be consequences, consequences that yee may not like.  Merdain wants yee to because he sees what I see - someone who knows how teh kill but just needs teh be taught how teh use their skills on people. And by taking this treatment, yee'll become stronger.  Much stronger.”

I thought about what she said for a moment.  Merdain said I didn’t have to fight if I didn’t want to.  That's the consequences they're talking about, so I don't have to worry.  I won't be using these knives on people.  I won't.  I believe Merdain - I trust him.  I don’t know why, but I do. This treatment, whatever it is, will help me and I’d be a fool not to take it.

I stared right back into her muddy, grey eyes. “I’ll take it.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, then continued to rifle through her jars.  Occasionally she’d open a lid and carefully pour the contents into the wooden pot. After a few minutes of this, she looked back at me over her thick shoulder and asked, “What season were yee born in?” 

Taken a back I stammered, “Uh, S-Summer.” 

“And how old are yee?”

“Sixteen.”

She stopped and turned to face me, cocking a bushy eyebrow.  “Interestin’, not sure if I ’ave one of those,” she mumbled to herself.

“What.. what do you mean?”  

“Yeer a basilisk.” 

I snorted.  She must spent to much time surrounded by all these herbs.  I was pretty sure I was a human, but before I could say anything she cut me off.

“Yee were born the year and season over which the basilisks were given power by the gods, before they all disappeared. This is an important part of the spell, knowin’ what creature’s year yee were born in. The basilisks were frightening creatures, misunderstood beasts."

I felt uneasy. I remembered stories about basilisks, horrifying six-legged beasts that could swallow a full-sized horse whole! (Of course at that point I'd never seen a horse so I couldn't fully comprehend just what a frightening thing that was) They have teeth as long as a man’s arm, tails powerful enough to fell one of the giant trees surrounding City Central. But for all their terrible physical features, their tempers were even worse. Basilisks are vicious, nasty, mean creatures and I was supposedly one of them?  She must really be out of her mind.

She rustled around through her boxes, muttering, “I know it’s ‘round ‘ere somewhere… just got teh… ah ha!”

She pulled what looked like a thin grey-green stone about the size of my fist out of a small cloth sack and dropped it into the bubbling brew in her pot.

“How is it hot?” I asked in confusion, “There’s no fire.”

“If there was a fire the pot would burn teh a crisp child,” Gertrude growled.  I flushed and glanced at the pot.  “I use the Breath teh heat it.”
 
Surprise slapped me in the face.  I looked uncertainly at her, I thought the Breath had been forbidden by the Quar!  I heard that  all who used it were put in prison or executed.

The Breath was an energy that few of my people could harness to perform astounding acts. Other countries used magic, but the Breath was something more trustworthy, and deadly. While magic took energy from ones self, the Breath took energy from the surrounding life force, the worlds Breath so to speak.  Use it too much and the consequences would be very harmful to any surrounding life. Very few knew about it and fewer how to use it.  When I was still searching for the Knights I’d met someone who cautiously revealed he could use it. He was a very strange man, with pale blonde hair and the oddest eyes - so blue they were almost purple.  He had invited me into his shelter during a rare rainstorm.  When it rains in Ineri it pours.  The ground is so hard and dry that the torrent doesn't get absorbed, it just rolls of the dirt.  The rain comes so hard, so fast and so unexpectedly that many villages have been washed away in the flood.  So I was grateful when he called me into the sturdy, stone shelter.

“You’re able to use it?” I gawked.

She looked at me curiously, “Yee know about the Breath?” I nodded and she smiled, at least I think it was a smile. “Then, guess I don’t have teh explain it teh yee.” 

She went back to the pot and whispered something I couldn't make out, then she gestured for me to come to her. Ignoring my bodies protests I stood and stepped over to the pot. It bubbled and churned, yet I could still make out my reflection.  I saw sun scorched skin, blue-grey eyes and a messy mop of dirty blonde hair that formed a tangled mass on my head.  Attractive, I know.
     In the reflection I saw Gertrude reach over and pluck out of one of my hairs. Into the pot it dropped.  A soft, white glow surrounded her hand and reflected against the liquid. I gaped in awe, what little hair I had left on the back of my neck rose and my unburned skin prickled.

Then, as soon as it appeared, the light left and Gertrude stood there, unfazed by it all.  The air around me suddenly thinned and the breeze that had been rustling the tent flaps stilled. “It’s done?”  I asked. she nodded curtly, picking up the pot and handing it to me. “Drink it, all of it.    Don’t stop, no matter what yee feel, or yee may never recover.”

I  sat back in the chair looking at her uncertainly. Hesitantly I raised the pot to my lips and slurped at the greenish sludge inside. It didn’t taste like anything. Completely bland.  For a second I thought she had been pulling my leg, I didn't feel anything.  But as soon as that thought danced across my mind my burned skin started to prickle.  Fear ripped through me, I was being burned again!  No, worse.  It felt like my skin was burning while coals roasted my insides. I choked down the last mouthful and tried to scream, but it lodged in my throat and only a faint gasp escaped my lips.  It felt like my legs were breaking, then being rearranged into contorted shapes.  A stabbing pain erupted from the base of my spine and I thought I heard a tearing sound. My skin felt like hundreds of knives were forcing their way out and when I looked down at my arm I was shocked to see grey-green rocks and blood covering it. I fell to my knees and gasped for air as another wave of agony racked my body.  The pain was unbearable!  It was intense enough to send me spiraling into the black of unconsciousness.

                         ----------------------------------------------- 

A shaft of light burned my lidded eyes, and I groaned as I opened my eyes. I found myself staring up at an unfamiliar slanted, cloth ceiling.  Where in gods' name am I?  I shot up, bad idea.  My head felt like a heard of deer had danced on it, but that was all.  No other pain or discomfort.  I gaped down in horror at my body, just barely biting back a scream.  I was covered in  blood and rocks!  No, not rocks..scales!  Dull, grey-green scales!  The potion, the Breathe, Gertrude-It all rushed back to me.  Panic rose like the waters of an inescapable flood,  and hyperventilated.

" W-hat?!  What is this?!"  I squeaked. What- How?!  In a panic I tried to stand but toppled over before I even put any weight on my legs.  Hesitantly, my gaze lowered to look them and my stomach dropped.  My once marred leg, like the rest of my used-to-be-burned body was scaly and grey-green, but it didn’t look like a human leg anymore. It was bent and contorted- like an animals.  Instead of five toes, I found four clawed talons with a fifth set higher in the back. A flicker movement caught my attention.  'Oh gods what else?'  Don't look don't look, dear gods don't look.  I looked.  For a second I wasn't sure what I was looking at.  'It looks almost like a...'  I almost fainted.  A tail.  A.  Tail.  'Not my tail, I don’t have a tail!'  But it twitched again and I felt it.  It was as thick as my upper arm with sharp ridges leading to the tip.  A realization hit me.  My eyes weren't damaged.  I could see!  But it was different from before.  Lights were brighter, dark shades more prominent, and details leapt out at me - it was like looking through…well I didn’t know. It was so different, so strange so…alien.

A rustle, maybe clothing, startled me from my inner (and external I'm sure) meltdown.  My gaze snapped around to see Merdain looking down at me, an unreadable expression on his face. “It’ll take some gettin’ used teh, but ye'll be able teh walk around jest fine in a few days.”

I didn't comprehend what he said at the time, needless to say I was in shock.  One thought though, one thought got through to my mouth.

I gaped up at him. “W-what did you do to me?”

He laughed, a hard laugh, “I didn’t do anything teh ye.  Ye did this teh yerself. Yer now what we call an Omega. Super soldier if ye will. Ye didn’t have teh take the potion, but ye did. Ye don’t have teh fight, but it would be a sure waste of yer new abilities.”

My mind became suddenly strikingly clear. In me an overpowering, unexpected rage flared. It took all of my will power not to leap at his throat.  I was trembling from the effort it took to restrain myself.  I had never experienced anything like this before: this surging power, this animalistic rage and need.  It all boiled up into a horrible snarl. “You knew this would happen?!  Am I even human anymore?!”  That thought stopped me in my tracks.  The terrible fury dissipated, but I continued to tremble, this time from fear.  I wanted to be healed, that's the only reason I took the potion!  I don't what I am now...some sort of monster. 

“Yes and no,” were his answers.  He didn't even seemed fazed by my crazed actions, almost like he expected them.

Desperation filled me. “Change me back!” I begged, “Please, change me back! I don't want to be like this, please!" 

“There is no way teh.  Didn’t Gertrude tell ye there’d be consequences? Well, this is it. Ye can never gain somethin’ without first givin' somethin’ up. Yer body could not be healed without this price, however terrible it may be.”

My trembling increased, I was shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't accept that.  How could I accept that?!  I had to be able to change back. 

But, a small part of me knew, even back then, that it could never be reversed.

“Here,” Merdain extended a hand to me. I don’t know why, but I took it.  “Let me show ye somethin’.”

He led me outside the tent. I had to lean heavily on him, my legs still felt like they belonged to someone else, too strange to be a part of my body. But then again, the rest of my body was too strange to be mine so maybe the legs fit right in.  'Will I ever get used to this?  Do I even want to get used to this?'  No. I didn't.
     When we were outside, he pointed to a small group of people, huddled around one of the equally small fires.  They were thin, though not as thin as others I had seen, and maybe not even as thin as me; but still much to thin. My heart twinged when I saw two little children shivering in their mothers arms despite the warmth the fire provided.

“I know that ye hate me for trickin’ ye into this body ye have. I know I did, even if the final decision was yer's.  I don't expect ye to forgive me for it either.  But, I can see that before ye were crippled, ye were strong enough. I had hoped even after ye refused to fight that once ye found yer abilities, ye would agree teh help us.”

“And why would I do that?” I hissed at him, trying to stand more on my own.  I collapsed against him again.

“Because those people are few of the many we protect here, but thousands more are without the safety or food, left like starved prairie rats for the Palikieans teh pick off as they please.  We fight teh protect and free them from these invaders who are tryin’ teh take over our 'ome." As miserable as a home it is.  "Now, can ye really say that ye would be able teh sit back and let this continue- let yer people die around ye- when ye have the power teh put an end teh it?”

I stared blankly at the people huddled around each other and  I was reminded of my own village, the terror in my family’s eyes as they were slaughtered and our home destroyed.  I came here for safe haven, but Merdain -as painful as it was for me to admit it- was right. How could I let more of my people die when I had the opportunity to act?  Even though I had to put most (if not all) of my weight on Merdain and my limbs trembled from lack of nourishment (and shock of course), I felt a strength in my body that I had never known even before I had been crippled.  My selfishness sickened me.  How could I think like this?

Breathing deeply, I looked up at Merdain and swallowed my pride “Fine. I’ll help fight. I’ll join the cause.”

He smiled down at me and, for the first time, warmth filled his gaze.  “Good. Let’s put ye back on yer feet, fatten ye up a bit, and get those knives in yer hands again.”