He ran.
He didn't know where he was running to, nor was there anything in pursuit. He didn't care. He just ran. He ran as hard and fast as he could, the fur slicked back by the force of his passage, his eyes tearing slightly as the night air swept by his face. Claws dug for purchase on slick cobblestones. Once, tearing around a corner, his hind quarters slipped out to the side, he recovered and continued on amidst the startled cries of a group of half-drunken apprentices lurching home to their pallets. A rock slammed into his side, but he kept moving even as he heard the men give cry and start a pursuit. THEY were not a threat to his speed.

He did not often run this way through Camelot. Most nights were spent in the hunt for food in the forests outside of town, for his Other was sick of spirit and would not provide the food they both needed to survive. So at night, when the Other slept, He’d taken the lead, chasing rabbits and small game, always avoiding the strange pack that sometimes roamed the stretch near Wolf Keep, keeping always to himself. He and the Other had no need for anyone else. No one had need for them.

There! The first loud howl back behind him told of hounds loosed and on his trail. He increased his pace, belly nearly scraping the ground at times as he extended his legs in his movements. Other dogs joined the chorus, watchdogs and strays caught up in the frenzy of the hunt. He streaked on, even as he felt himself begin to tire. The body he shared with the Other had low reserves, and now they would both pay the price unless he could evade his pursuers. He headed for the river, and no sooner rounded yet another corner when he sensed the foremost of the dogs closing the distance. Ahead lay the river and the docks piled high with crates waiting to be loaded. He leaped, paws finding hold on wood and netting, then clambered to the summit of a haphazard stack that began teetering as several hounds tried to follow his route. He barely had time to turn and look down at them as his refuge toppled backward into the water, taking him with it. Then he hit cold water. He knew nothing more as he began to sink. Nothing... except feeling the return of the Other...

*********

Air. He needed air! He fought his way to the surface, not paying heed to the foul water that he swallowed as he broke the water. One hand reached out to grab a floating keg and he held it closely as he filled his lungs with air. Above him on the dock, a pack of dogs stared down intently at the water, but seemed to pay him no mind. He had a vague recollection of what had happened, and might have laughed had not a gust of breeze reminded him he was naked in the river. He took a last look overhead, then kicked off for the far bank, frowning as it took greater effort than he expected. He was too tired. But what difference did it make? If he didn't make it, at least he wouldn't have to face another day.

********

"She took my hand and smiled,
And upstairs I was led,
We've yet another hour
`Fore my husbands home, she said!
I lay down... down... "

John of Devlin, known as Devlin to most of those who he called friend, stopped and looked down. He’d felt himself step on something, and he wasn't happy at what it had felt like. The glance down was not encouraging. It was, after all, someone's hand. He bent down, and cursed softly as the face of the naked man in the doorway became clear to him in the pre-dawn gloom.
"Conary... Conary de Farne. What the blazes has happened to you, lad?"


7/99


Darkness - Part II

"Stop that infernal racket! You'll wake the neighborhood!"

Grace stood on the first landing of the stairs to her own quarters and scowled across the tavern towards the front door. Few people dared to try to gain entrance to Amazing Grace's at this late, or rather, early hour. She gave a short exasperated sigh and padded barefoot across to the door.

"Devlin? Is that you? It's been a long night and I'm in nae sort of mood for playing "Gracie bar the door" wi' ye!" Her question drew another pound, but weaker.

"Gracie, for the love of all the thousand gods, open the door or we're BOTH passed out beside it!"

"Both? Devlin, if ye bring home another stray like that great looming hulk moaning about Fannie or Annie or X-... hold on... I'll open up!" she sighed as Devlin once more yelled her name. She was set to give him a good tongue lashing until the door swung open, and a long haired young man wearing only Devlin's cloak slumped forwards unexpectedly into her arms. Her nose wrinkled. "Dammit, Dev. What cesspool did you fish this one out from?"

"No cesspool, love. I found him lying bare as birth outside of Harlan 's. But I dinnae think he lost his clothes at gambling." Dev stepped into the room, a rueful smile upon his face as he eased the lad back from her arms and once more picked him up. A slight flush appeared on his face as he took the weight. "I think he swam the river. Look you: burnt wood splinters in his palms. He climbed down by O'Donnell's burned out docks, I'd wager!" Devlin quickstepped off across the room, then paused at the stairs and shook his head. "I never thought I'd haul a lad up these."

Grace laughed. "Stop stalling, love. Where is the man who boasted of years spent pulling oars? Up you go wi' him!" She shook her black curls and pushed on past to get the herbs and linens. "And tell me how you come to find him!"

**********

"…a year, and then you meet again like this?" Grace knotted one last bandage on an arm and turned to face her lover. "This is THAT boy, the shape-shifter from the island?"

"Aye. Conary de Farne. He made the voyage questing for an emerald ring. Himself, the Blackhawke set the quest to win Lady Velvet's hand and marriage."

"And then they never married. She wed that bold Will of Darkmoor a second time. I saw him once in marketplace. A comely man with a flashing eye." She grinned as she left the bedside to slip an arm about Devlin's waist. "Some might say he was as bold as you with the ladies!", she teased.

Her jibe was rewarded with a sour look that quickly passed his face. "Aye. Bold William and I crossed paths once. I have a bit in common with our young friend there. A woman named Islena... the wife he had between his life with Velvet. We might have gotten together if nae for her fascination with Lord William." He kissed her as his words made her frown in turn. "No worries, Grace. I found where I belong." He sighed. "The question is, what happened to the lad?" He gestured at the bed.

De Farne lay pale and bandaged where Devlin had expected to pass the early hours of the day in bliss. Dev kissed Grace once again, then moved away to a smaller room, to emerge a minute later with two sets of clothes draped over either arm. He favored Grace with that brilliant smile. "Well! Which one do you think?"

Grace shook her head. Devlin had his teeth into another problem. "Gods help us all!"

8/99


Darkness - Part III

"Zephraim! There you are!"

Zephraim Strongarm, proprietor of the Quill and InkPot, the best known inn for Camelot's students, looked up with a wide grin and a wave. The speaker was a veritable blaze of red and gold leaning languidly in the doorway, a cloth scented with rosewater held to his nose against common odors.

"Lord DeVelain! So good to see you again! Are you back to take up your studies once more?"

The Frenchman wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Mais non! I am here to inquire after my distant kinsman, Conary de Farne. He rooms here, does he not?"

"Not anymore." Zephraim frowned. If DeVelain were offended, it might jeopardize their lucrative arrangement, for Zephraim especially. Only he in Camelot knew of this man's true identity as a spy for France. He'd been passing on the gossip the wastrel sons of noblemen let fall about the inn in exchange for a monthly purse of 50 gold coins. Now all that might be lost. And knowing DeVelain, it might be best to tell the truth, not telling if this were a test of sorts. "He left in the spring, m'lord. He fell behind on his rent, and regrettably, ... these things do occur, m'lord! I must be firm about the house rules!"

The Frenchman nodded, "But of course! I quite agree. But why did my cousin fall into arrears? He had bright prospects!"

"That he did, m’lord! But after the end of his engagement, young De Farne slacked off, spent time umm... drowning his sorrows. He did poorly in his examinations. He spent the allowance his relatives had sent him." Zephraim held a hand plaintively. "But it was the dog that was the final straw! You know my policy, hounds are to be kept in the kennel out back at night. But that great beast of his would prowl about at night. Scared the dickens out of my charlady one eve. I could not allow that, you understand?"

"So! You evicted him, of course?" DeVelaine arched a brow as he once more took a sniff of his cloth. "Hmm... Would this cover it? " He produced a fat purse with a flourish, laying it on the bartop. "Of course, I would hope his things... ?"

"In my store room! I'll send them right around!" the innkeep fairly oozed cooperation. Of course, for that amount of gold Zephraim would have found new things "belonging" to de Farne if he'd hadn't already saved them. He stopped as the noble turned and motioned to his mute servant. "Charlemont will take them. I shall await them outside, in the fresh air. I will be by again next week for our usual exchange. Good day, Master Zephraim!"

*********

Dev stepped out into the narrow street facing the river and frowned. Conary had to have slipped badly to let his other nature be noticed. Even Dev himself hadn't an inkling the younger man was a shapechanger until the end of their voyage together. This was going to require close scrutiny. He was so intent on his thoughts he never saw the large man who grabbed his shoulder approach.

An angry voice hissed in his ear: "I don't care if you are working for the King or Queen of all of Scotland, MacDevlin! You were fiddlin' with me wife and now you ... URK!!" Any further harangue was cut short as the man was raised into the air by means of a large hand gripping his collar. 'Charlemont' had emerged from the inn as well and had quickly sized up the situation. As big as the angry husband had been, the "servant" was bigger, and he quickly carried the man over to the river side of the street and dropped him into the water.

"Har har. Devlin always finds fun! Korys likes this work!"
"Shh... it's... "
"Lord Devlinganger! Trouble?" A stout man in a Black Watch tunic ran up. He smiled as Dev shook his head. "Good! We don't want a cousin to the king of Norway accosted in the streets of Camelot by a ruffian. But I see your Olaf took care of it!" He saluted and moved along as Korys easily hoisted Conary's trunk. Devlin let out a sigh. Sometimes things were just too close for comfort.

"Come on, Korys, back to Grace's!"
The barbarian nodded. "Then I go look for Xannie!"
Devlin groaned. "Korys, for the millionth time... "
"Korys LIKE Xannie! Make good fifth wife! Clean hides! Make strong sons! Pitch tent... "

It was a long walk back to Graces. Unfortunately, Korys had a long list.

9/99