\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: The Boy and The Lady “I hate the sea,” muttered Delayne Muerdetta from the corner of the cramped cargo hold aboard the Sea Strider. “Oh, I don't know,” replied Tilamoon from behind the huge ethereal tome he was poring over, “I've always been kind of fond of it.” “The sea's always been my worst enemy, “ chimed in Adulphus Turon, who had taken to pacing quite a bit lately, “getting troops transported over water is a nightmare. You know one time... “ “I am trying to get some sleep people,” interrupted a shifting pile of bedding in the corner, “ do you mind?” Silence ensued in the tiny room, leaving Alexander Rahl alone with his thoughts once more. His ghostly grandfather had every reason to pace; it was everything Alexander could do to rest while he could. Someone was exterminating his family; slowly, methodically, and until the failed attempt on Alexander's own life just days previously, successfully. His mother, then Holle, and finally faithful Nicolai were all dead by the hand of his unseen nemesis. The tactics appeared to be working. Alexander was more paranoid than he ever was during the War of the Rings, and his father was falling deeper and deeper into despair. The House of Turon had made plenty of enemies on its own even before it became known that his family had descended from Mengst, but most of those enemies were either dead, or at the very least contained and visible. Except for this one. He shifted again uncomfortably under the blankets, trying to sort and catalogue everyone he knew that had the motive to do this, but he always came up empty-handed after such exercises. Alexander's thoughts were interrupted by a whisper from Turon. “Get up lad...something's happening.” There was muffled thud against the starboard hull of the ship and shouting and sounds of conflict began echoing from the hatch to the deck. Alexander sprung from his blankets, gathered his things and sprung up the ladder. He emerged from the hold into a slaughterhouse. All of the skeleton crew of the Sea Strider was either dead or dying, slain by the dozen or so men who stood before him on the deck of the ship. Men with rumels attached to their belts. Stranglers. Aluvial's holy assassin allowed himself a wry smile. “Arwyn,” he whispered and the Ring of Fire on his finger sprang to life. The Strangers' clothing combusted, and in the moment of confusion, Alexander plunged into the fray. Wind Through The Rushes. One down. Parting the Waves. Two. The Dervish followed by The Rushing River. Three and four. Three more men went down and two jumped overboard before the remaining three had extinguished their garments and composed themselves for battle. They seemed content with surrounding Alexander, preventing him from diving off the side of the ship. None of these men wished to die today. Alexander realized the error of his pride a moment too late. A wall of mists had reached out from the sea and was barreling down on the small ship. Alexander looked around frantically for an escape but there was none. The mists surrounded the ship and all became darkness. Alexander woke slowly, first becoming aware that he was lying on cold, hard shale, probably on a beach from the sound of the water. He slowly rose, making sure to check each bone and joint for fractures. He found himself surprisingly unharmed. The beach was deserted and the air had a cold, wet feeling, much like fall in the northlands, but the wind carried on it an unidentifiably unpleasant smell. It was then that he noticed the woman walking towards him. She was the most remarkable, sensual thing he had ever even dreamed of, with waist-length flowing black hair and garbed in a gossamer robe that left nothing to the imagination. She stopped several yards away from him and offered a coy, yet infinitely comforting smile. A not so comforting thought reached through the lust in the boy's mind. He was alone. Mengst, Turon, Muerdetta, none of them were near, and the whispers from the rings that always filled his mind were silent. For the first time in his life, Alexander was truly alone. His smile faded abruptly when he looked past the woman and noticed the spire of black stone in the distance, reaching like an outstretched finger into the clouds. “Hello Alexander,” said the Lady, her voice of milk and honey flowing around him and through him, “I've been waiting a very long time to meet you.”