Ian hadn't set out to find trouble. He had left Camelot that morning with a simple enough plan in mind: a visit to some of the more remote inns and taverns in the area, hoping to find some answers to the questions that had piled up around him of late. At the very least, he had hoped to at least hear some rumors as to the reason why a group of people had been locked inside a building and burned to death. After three stops at places that served food and drink of quality ranging from fair to downright horrid, he'd ridden up to this tavern that was so new it had not even earned itself a name yet, just "Alf's place".

A raggedy looking stableboy offered to take Horse into the a stall, but a gold coin smoothed over his disappointment when Ian led Horse in himself. A quick word of warning made the youngster's eyes widen, and then Ian turned and walked into the tavern. He'd sat there quietly nursing a tankard of ale and listening to the conversations around him before Rolf and his unfortunate brother had arrived. Up until then, he'd been unrecognized thanks to the open faced helmet he'd borrowed from the barracks; it hid his blonde hair and the nose guard was enough of a disguise to work.

And then along came Rolf.

As the big man charged across the room, Ian kicked his chair out at him. It didn't stop Rolf, but it gave Ian time to take in his weapon and how it was carried. Rolf held a longsword in the "high position", drawn back over his head at an angle. A powerful stance used by a large man could mete out a lot of punishment on a field of battle. But this was a tavern. Ian chuckled to himself as he dropped into a slight crouch and kept the tip of Deathkiss pointed at an angle straight at Rolf's face. "Easy, boy! Take your brother home and mourn him. Don't join him."

Rolf's face twisted in rage and he brought his blade whistling down at Ian's head, only to have it blocked by Deathkiss in a swift parry. Then Blackthorn whirled, stepped to the side and delivered a blow to the ribs with the flat of his sword. Around the two men onlookers suddenly began placing wagers and here and there the 'clink' of a tossed coin hitting a tabletop could be heard. Rolf roared once more, again bringing his word over and down, and once more was met with a parry and a blow with Ian's flat edge, this time to his right hip. "Three gold pieces says the stranger takes Rolf in six passes!", someone shouted. Now the room erupted into bets called over not who would win, but how long Rolf would survive.

Rolf was too far enraged to realize what was happening about him. Once again he charged and struck, once again his blow was blocked and answered with a painful thump instead of cold, hard steel. But the force of his blows were beginning to take a toll on Ian, whose arms ached with each parry. He kept his sword held still at middle guard, but now he took several steps back. Rolf gave a harsh laugh and attacked quickly as Ian retreated even further towards the back of the room. Finally, the half-elf was out of space to retreat, and the crowd quieted in amazement.

"It's over." Rolf grinned, drew his sword back to the high position once more, and then brought it down savagely. The tavern resounded to a sound like sword meeting wood.

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*********

The Lost: Part XIV

The sound of sword meeting a solid object filled the room, and yet Rolf's sword had not fallen towards its intended victim. It stayed extended over his head at the top of its arc as Rolf suddenly let loose a loud stream of curses. It had struck alright: right into a crossbeam over his head where the tavern roof slanted lower. He yanked at it so intently he never realized Ian had stepped closer until Deathkiss's point drew a small trickle of blood from his exposed neck. The tavern patrons suddenly erupted in laughter at Rolf's expression when he finally noticed his predicament.

"Hmm, in a bit of a fix, aren't you?" Blackthorn leaned an arm on Rolf's shoulder as if they were old companions, then looked with a critical eye at the stuck sword. "Really wedged in there. Oh well. You won't need it anyway." He took a step back, his eyes now cold as he looked at the bully. "I could do it a number of ways. Sever your hand or arm as you stand there like a statue. Or perhaps just run you through. Or.." He paused as Rolf turned deathly pale and swayed a bit, his hand still on his now useless sword. "Oh hell, boy, if you are going to be ill and spoil the fun, at least do it outside and spare the innkeep the work of cleaning it up! Go on, boy." He raised his voice, pointing at the door. "GO!"

Once again laughter rang out as a now green Rolf turned and ran out into the night, catcalls and insults called after him. One bettor turned and gave Ian a sour look. "You should have killed the windbag".

Ian laughed and sheathed his sword. "Na. I've done worse. He still has to face his Mother and explain how he got his brother killed by a horse." That set off another round of laughter, and Ian tossed a bag of coins to the innkeep to buy drinks all around. As the place went back to a more relaxed atmosphere, Ian joined the keeper to look once more at the stuck sword.

"I'll pay for the damage, Alf, if you need to replace that."

"Thank you..the name was Ferret, hey?" But then Alf leaned closer and winked. "Your secret is safe with me, Captain. I knew it was you the moment I saw you move with sword in hand. I was in the Guard, y'see; served under ye at the orc siege of Camelot. What brings ye out in these parts? "

For the next few minutes, under the ruse of dickering over damage payments, Ian told Alf of the recent events in Camelot. The older man nodded, then recounted a conversation he'd heard just that very afternoon, about how a man named Skinner had been fooled by men who had posed as Watch men and then attacked Skinner and his girl. "I was coming to town tomorrow to buy supplies for the kitchen, and I planned on stopping by and letting Timmons know. But here you are, so now you've heard even sooner!"

"Thank you, Alf. Do me a favor and let me know if anything else of interest is heard about here, hey?" Ian pressed some more gold coins into the tavernkeep's hand, once more talking loud enough for any interested person nearby could hear. "And that's my final word. Let Rolf pay the rest. If ever he returns, that is."

"Thankee, Ferret. But I think Rolf has paid for it already, for he's given me a name for my tavern. What say you to "The Stuck Sword Tavern", friends?"

As the crowd roared approval, Ian slipped out into the night and fetched Horse.

He'd not learned everything he came searching for, but at least mystery was now solved.

He now knew who had been killing members of the Black Watch.

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*********

The Lost: Part XV

Things looked bad. Ian turned to his troops.

"I won't lie to you, men. We are outnumbered by the orc force. But if we all think of what we are fighting for, our homes, our families, and for Camelot, we shall rise up in righteous anger and ..."

THUMP!

Blackthorn looked down at his chest where a hard thrown missile had taken him, and slowly crumpled to the ground. His Lieutenant crouched down beside him and felt his pulse. "He's dead, men! Let's get the dirty orcs!" He then jumped to his feet, and with a fearsome howl led the force in a breakneck downhill charge to smash the enemy ramparts. Blackthorn stared unblinking at the late Winter sky as the war cries dwindled in the distance.

"Oh get up, you silly arse! Righteous anger indeed!" A red-haired angel's face blocked his view of the sky. Of course, he thought to himself with a grin, it was replaced with a view of his Skye. "Get up! You'll catch your death of cold down there!"

"I can't. You're standing on my chest. And I thought it was a speech to set the warrior's hearts pounding."

"Pfft!" Skye Blackthorn shook her head, took a step back and put her hand out to her husband. "If you gave that speech during the Orc Wars to our men they would have fallen over laughing and we'd all be scraps in orc stomachs."

Ian laughed, took her hand, and then pulled her down into the snow beside him. "No doubt you'd have killed them with heartburn. I claim a forfeit from my orcan victor. No doubt you practice throwing snowballs for days like this." He kissed her firmly on the mouth, and then the two spent several moments lying in the snow. A infant giggle duet from a nearby sled broke the spell, and Ian sat up to grin at two small round balls of cloth. "Good lord, wife! The boys can barely move with all that on them!" He winked at Conn and Calen, made a face, and was rewarded with more delighted giggles as he turned and helped Skye to her feet. A quick glance downhill showed that Shane's attack had been successful, although Arista and Tamsin had put up a stiff resistance.

Several of the pages on Shane's side were nursing bloody noses from well aimed snowballs. Ari was firmly in charge of instructing the boys on how to stop the bleeding as Tamsin soothed a hissing Polaris down. Ian winced. He'd forgotten the gryphon hatchling might not be able to tell play from attack yet; they were lucky there were not more serious injuries. "We best get our forces inside for cider and cookies. And no doubt the twins need a change."

Ian took the rope to the sled, gave his version of a horse's whinny, and pulled the boys through the snow as his other arm wrapped around Skye's waist. "This was a good day, wasn't it, love? "

"Aye, Ian. I'm so happy you took some time off today. The Hawke is back, my angel; you don't have to worry as much." She glanced up at her husband. As much as he tried to smile and banter the last few days, his eyes had betrayed his worry, but today they seemed clear of care. "Ian? What's happened?"

He carefully worked the sled around a rock as he made noises at their two year olds, then shrugged as he turned back to face her. "The Bear Man's vanished. Rumor is he's gone to ground or left the area. Same is said of the Dark Hunter. The trail's gone cold. It's likely one or both have left the area altogether." They walked back to the firehall in companionable silence until they drew near the garden entrance, the older children already racing inside to roast chestnuts at the hearth and claim their mugs of cider. Then Ian stopped and turned to cup Skye's face in his hands. "I've put off making good on my promises much too long. It will be Spring soon. The manor is nearly done. We'll move in when the weather turns warmer."

"And the girls, Ian? What about Kara and Dara."

He smiled. She'd never set eyes on either of his older set of twins, and still her heart held them as her children as well. He took her into his arms, kissed her, then released her as he took up the sled rope again and began pulling the boys along once more. "We bring them home, of course, firedragon!"

"We bring them home!"

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The Lost: Part XVI

Something stirred in the mist to the side of the trail, a soft swishing sound in the dank waters of the swamp. Ian reined in Horse and cursed softly to himself. He would have waited until morning if he had been thinking calmly, but he had this need deep inside to find Meredudd. Actually, it was more the need to find his missing daughters. His human mind told him to be patient, to follow every lead, examine every clue with care. But his elven emotions..his elven emotions raged within him. He had to find those children.

Blood called to blood.

He'd gone to the Dagger earlier this eve and finally had been able to find Tyralor and ask if he had heard anything. After a few moments, McDougall had told Ian he thought the rumors said the Welshman was at Hawk's Hollow to the west of Camelot. A quick trip back to his office to glance quickly at a map, and Ian was off like a headblind fool in the middle of the night. Now he wished he'd taken a longer look. The swamp bordered the eastern side of Hawk's Hollow, and not wishing to give Meredudd warning from the commotion his appearance leaving the Road in the midst of the town would bring, he'd instead come out on far end of the swamp from town. He started across on what the map had shown as a road but in reality it was little more than a faint path. Bushes closed over it at places, and it did not seem to be in much use by the locals. Worse still, the swamp waters were high as the snow of Winter was beginning to thaw, and Horse had splashed his way past several spots where the waters on either side had met.

"He damn well better be here, Tyralor." Ian muttered. He patted Horse lightly on the neck. "I'll see you get a fresh bag of oats and an apple for this night's work, my friend." He whispered something in Sithryn, and the pair moved on. Again there was the sound of something sliding through water beside the path, and this time very close. "I hate surprises." Blackthorn reached up and drew Deathkiss from its sheath, resting the bare blade across the saddle in front of him as his eyes scanned the mist. A sudden roar to his right caused him to draw the other sword from his swordbelt as he looked that way. A sound of water parting as something large reared from the water was followed by yet another roar. Ian channeled some light down into Deathkiss, then forced a ball of blue light to shoot from it and hover over the marsh. Elven light reflected in a pair of malevolent eyes that towered over the path, then in another..and another...and still more. "Damn! What are they?" As he forced the light to glow brighter still, it slowly became obvious there was no "they". All those eyes glowing in the fog belonged to just one beast. "Hydra!"

Horse nickered nervously. "Steady...steady!!" Then a long neck snaked down, Horse jumped slightly to the left, and narrowly avoided a second set of teeth as another head swept by and up. Ian sliced at it in passing, both swords now in play as he guided Horse by leg pressure and some elven commands. A third and fourth head attacked one after the other, and each time snapped back out of arm reach before Ian could land a blow. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before two or more of the hydra's heads would strike together instead of separately. And off in the distance on the other side of the path the noise of the attack had seemingly aroused more creatures, judging by the roars now splitting the night. Penned in on both sides, blinded by night and fog, and with little or no room left for maneuvers, Ian recalled something Ferret had once told him.

"Boy, there comes a time in every man's life when he must decide whether he's going to die bravely but stupidly, or retreat and come back to fight another day. Better to come back alive than to come back from the dead. Less painful"

Ian grinned in the dark. "Besides, I would have to explain this to Skye in the afterlife if I died like an idiot." He summoned a bright burst of light to blind , he hoped, the hydra, then dug his heels into Horse's sides and urged the warhorse on and fled into the night.

*********

An hour later, the door to Hawk's Hollow's only tavern creaked open, and a weary apparition stepped slowly inside. The tavern keep took in the mud splattered clothes, the spot of ichor on the tunic, and the slightly drawn look on the man's face. "Been in the swamp, ain'tcha?" Wordlessly the man nodded, then gratefully accepted the flagon the `keep pressed into his hands. "I owe my horse fresh oats and an apple. Please have your stable boy see to it." The tavernkeep nodded, but before he could move away the stranger laid a calloussed hand upon his arm.

"I'm looking for a man named Meredudd. Welshman.."

"Aye, red hair, shortish.." The innkeep smiled. "He left this morning. Went back to Camelot, he did."

Ian blinked at the man, then downed the flagon quickly. When he finished, he looked up. "I might have known. I need two things, innnkeeper."

"Aye, milord?"

"A bed to sleep until the morning." Then he held out the empty flagon. "And more of this." He settled back into a chair as the innkeep scurried off, and made himself a promise to have a talk with Tyralor himself when he got back to Camelot.

A long talk.

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