\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: Chapter Twenty-One - A Son''s Burden Alexander Rahl was sitting on a barstool in Tablenhelm's Fall when the man walked in. He had been in before, and the boy winced inside for he knew what was coming. The dark- haired man grinned charmingly at Belinda the barmaid and put two fingers to his lips. "Shhhhh" he whispered. Belinda fell to the floor asleep, and Chandler at his table fell face-first into the neatly-stacked coins he had been sorting. Alexander lay his head down on the table and feigned sleep, the magic of this man never worked on him, but his friend and superior had known who the man was, even though he did not say, and had instructed Alexander not to let the man know he was awake. Alexander's friend had been scared of the man even though he wouldn't show it. And if his friend was scared, Alexander knew he should be scared too. So once again poor Alexander feigned sleep. Alexander listened to the absolute silence of the man walking up the stairs to his father's study and shuddered as the sound of the door upstairs creaking open and closing softly. There would be no battle tonight. Alexander had not had much time to get to know his father, but he knew something was wrong. The dark man's visits always ended in disaster of one sort or another. He heard their hushed voices through the ceiling, planning and plotting one thing or another. If he concentrated hard enough he could make out some of the words, but not enough to be important. But that was okay. Alexander knew what was going on. He may not have been the brightest boy to carry the name Rahl, but he carried something much more precious with him, and it told him the truth about what was happening. The boy shuddered at the thought. Alexander's breath caught as the man glided down the stairs and nearly caught the boy with his eyes open; but Alexander closed them just in time. The man looked about the room for a moment and then departed. Then the screaming started. This always frightened Alexander, but what frightened him more was that the screaming was growing more seldom. For over an hour the screams of anguish continued from upstairs. Sounds of wood and stone being ripped asunder by bare hands and by magic echoed through the town of Northwood. A guard of Winterfell came running through the doors, but Alexander did...something... to his mind...he couldn't remember where he had learned it, but learned it he did, and he sent the pacified guard on his way with a mug of ale for his troubles. And the screaming continued. When things finally quieted down, Alexander slowly ascended the stairs to check on his father. He found the door ajar and stepped inside. His father's office was in ruins. Maps had been burned, tables shattered, even the stones of the fireplace glowed with an unearthly heat. And there was blood. Blood everywhere from where his father had cut himself on different implements in the room. On the wall, in letters as big as a man is tall, were two words written hastily in his father's blood: "Kill me." Alexander found his bloodied father on the floor, and nearly broke into tears when he discovered that his father was not breathing. The boy screamed and started to pound on his father's chest as one healer or another had taught him. He tried desperately to crush the garlic and ginseng in his hands but the healing magic never came. "You can't die!" Alexander screamed as he desperately tried to revive his fallen sire, "If you die, He wins...you know that?!?! IF YOU DIE HE WINS!!!!!!" His father did not stir. A newly awakened Belinda poked her head into the room and fainted dead away at the sight. "YOU'RE A WARDER DAMMIT!!!! YOU CAN'T LET HIM WIN!!!!!" screamed Alexander. His father gurgled a little and took in a precious breath of life on his own. "That's right...." said Alexander, "You're a Warder soldier, and you know what that means?" His father mumbled something unintelligible. "That's right...you swore an oath...to defend those who can not defend themselves..." Alexander's father nodded weakly. "And what do we say?" His father coughed up a bit of blood and smiled ever-so- slightly. "Hoowah!" he whispered. Alexander smiled and allowed his father to fall into a fitful sleep. The boy lifted his father into his simple bunk and bandaged his wounds as well as he could and then set about the work of cleaning his tortured father's chambers. Hours later, when all was done and all back to normal, Alexander found himself in thought. He knew his father had overcome obstacles in the past, but he was not sure if he could conquer this one. He felt he had to tell someone. Someone who could keep a secret. Alexander grabbed his spear and helm and set out into Northwood to find his friend. His friend would know what to do, his friend knew all of the dark man's mysteries. And his friend could keep a secret. His friend would never tell... even if he could speak.