Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Bonds and Beginnings ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Not far away, another figure ran through the sparse grassland at the edge of the desert's hardpan beginnings, its breath in labored gasps and such. Not far behind the figure were voices, angry and raw from yelling and screaming. The figure out in front let out a frightened cry, high pitched and raw as well. As the figure burst into a faster run it, no, she saw the clouds of dust that seemed to be heading in the plain's direction. Pausing for a moment, she seemed to go over her options she had at that point in time, and, her jaw set at a determined angle, she raced off into the storm. The voices behind her slowed and stopped, cursing her as she ran for being an ignorant fool and that they would soon get her, whether she was ready or not.

The girl, however, ran on into the storm, almost exhausted from her long, hard run. She was limping on her left foot, which might have been either sprained or broken, and her arm was raised to shield her eyes from the unrelenting sand. Her yellow hair was beginning to bleach out from the sand pummeling it, as were her tattered clothes. The only thing that remained somewhat normal was the silver sword's hilt that poked out over her left shoulder.

Just as suddenly as the storm had seemed to start it stopped, leaving dunes of sand anywhere it touched. The girl brought her arm down from her eyes and stopped her running, stumbling to a stop and falling to her knees. She let out several labored breaths and looked to the sky, watching the sun begin to dip down into the horizon, turning the sky blood red. She sighed one last time and reached into her tunic, pulling out an ebony raven. The bird fluttered its wings and cawed loudly, taking to the air above her.

The girl reached in her tunic again and pulled out a small skin, and after opening it, let the warm water run down her throat. After emptying the flask she crawled to the safety of a small indentation at the bottom of the cliff, located at a stone's throw from another cliff, and curled up, dropping into unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~*~

Piccolo watched the storm dissipate and dwindle until finally it stopped, leaving nothing but sandy dunes behind. It would be a while until the plants would be able to grow from the blanket of sand that was covering them, but hopefully there would be rain to help wash the sand away. Piccolo had noticed that in this new world there was a great instability in the weather, where the weather could suddenly turn from beautiful to horrible in the matter of a few moments. And this recent sandstorm was a testament to that.

He had been in this place for some time, but as for how long, he couldn't be sure. Piccolo took a guess and surmised that he must have been here ten years, according to the seasons' changing, but it all felt shorter to him; time passed slower in his own world. But it didn't matter to him, all that mattered was his mission, and the severity of it all...

He stood up and straightened out his back from sitting crouched against the wall for so long, brushing the sand from his clothes and cape. Turning, he was about to fly off onto the top of the cliff when he felt a sudden power, not too far away from him. He turned sharply and looked toward the direction where the feeling came from, narrowing his eyes a little at the unfamiliar power. Looking down he saw a small figure in the sands below, crawling toward an indentation at the bottom of the cliff. The figure wore a sword at...her back, and a long black cloak. A black raven flew above her, and, seeming to share her fatigue it landed next to her as she curled up and went limp. Piccolo knitted his brows as he surveyed her further, leaping and floating to a stop at the bottom of the cliff. He knelt down next to the insentient girl.

"...her ankle is broken," he confirmed out loud, noticing its strange angle. She had many scrapes and cuts on her exposed skin as well, many of which looked infected. The Namek grunted a little and stood up; ready to leave her where she laid until he saw her ears. They were tapered back, like his own, but not nearly as large. Frowning, he stooped and looked closer at her sword's hilt. Inscribed at the top of the crosspiece was a figure of three interlaced circles. Her power seemed to radiate off of her, like warmth from a crackling, merry fire.

"This might be the one I have been looking for. The one to bring the balance, perhaps? Her power is one of the strongest I have sensed yet..." Piccolo murmured to himself. "But I smell alcohol on her. She must be drunk, either to kill the pain in her ankle or to drown out something else..."

At that moment her eyes flew open, wide and glassy from fear and possible fever. She made a frightened noise in the back of her throat and sudden shot up, eyeing Piccolo and pressing herself against the wall. Momentarily forgetting about her ankle she tried to run past the Namek on his left side, but merely fell into the sand. She cried out in pain and grabbed her ankle, but realizing she was cornered she neglected it and reached for her sword instead.

"Minion of Al'Thor, stay back or I'll slice you open like a melon!" she threatened shakily in a child's voice, sweat dripping down her brow. Piccolo didn't flinch.

"You could not if you tried, young one." He replied calmly. "Now put that down, I mean you no harm."

The girl let out a choked laugh. "Yeah sure! Why should I trust you? Eh? It's your kind who I've been running from all this time! Why should I trust you now?" she spat in his direction and brandished her sword, the blade itself nearly as big as she was. "It's just like your kind to get me while I'm down!"

Surely this upstart cannot know what sort of power she possess'. Piccolo thought with slight disgust. Such an arrogant, untrusting one she is. Surely she cannot be the one... He looked her over again, finding her trying to hide her vulnerability behind a facade of anger and pain. Looking more closely, he looked into her eyes and saw nothing more than a frightened child, hidden behind a hard mask of an even harder life.

Piccolo reconsidered his harsh thoughts. One so young should not be so untrustworthy, but what has made her so...? She cannot be any older than Gohan was a few years ago, eight or nine...

The girl was inching toward a small escape path to her right; still holding her sword out in front of her, the weapon nearly as big as she was, like a good luck talisman, her mouth turned up in a snarl. She was breathing hard now, and sweat ran freely down her face and down her neck. Limping heavily on her left ankle, she supported herself upon the rock face and pulled herself along with her free hand. Biting her lip against any sounds that might escape her mouth from the pain of her ankle, she continued to glare at the Namek with contempt. Her raven friend alighted on her shoulder, squawking loudly at Piccolo and flapping its wings menacingly, his sharp black eye seeming to try and pierce him. Piccolo watched the girl go, not wanting to make any sudden moves.

The girl suddenly stopped and stared at him. "Why aren't you trying to come after me?"

"Because I have no need to. I am not after you." Piccolo replied in all honestly. The girl narrowed her eyes. "In fact, I do not know why I even cared whether you were dead or alive." With that, he took to the air and began to float away.

"I don't believe you. Al'Thor always sends the strange looking ones, and you're pretty strange looking." She commented in a flat voice. "And you seemed pretty interested in me a few minutes ago when I was out, so what gives? Why aren't you coming after me now? It doesn't make sense!"

"Listen, if I wanted to harm you, I would have done it by now, young one." replied Piccolo, stopping in midair and looking back at her. He decided to take a different approach to gain her trust. "Look, you are wounded and sick, any fool can see that. I would not only loose sport in taking you now with your current...condition, but it would be dishonorable as well. So stop worrying over nothing, and harassing me, and let me leave without your annoying gibberish."

"Dishonorable," she repeated. "But Al'Thor's allies never fought with honor..." She let her sword falter slightly, her hardness in her face wavering a bit. She looked at Piccolo again, and suddenly her sword came to the defensive again. "NO! Your wily tricks will not get past me! I won't be taken!" she suddenly shouted, her voice cracking a tiny bit. At that moment, she darted past him into the sand-covered valley, moving quickly, considering her ankle was hurt. Piccolo started to go after her but stopped, knowing that was what she expected him to do.

"Listen, girl, I do not care -" His words were cut off by a scream. The girl looked over her shoulder and just in time to see that she had just put one foot over the side of the other cliff. She screamed as she fell, grabbing a small ledge at the nick of time before she plummeted any farther into the deep canyon. She swung back and hit the cliff face as she grabbed the ledge, the force causing her to hit the face hard. She struck her head against the stone wall, and the gash it left had begun to bleed down her forehead and into her eyes. Still clinging to the ledge and her sword, she attempted to pull herself up onto the ledge, but failed. Finally she set her sword down upon the ledge oh so carefully and tried it again, but to no avail. She felt her awareness begin to slip away again, the unconsciousness ushered in fast by her knock on her head. She struggled to cling to both consciousness and the ledge, but she soon discovered that she had to concentrate on one or the other.

Piccolo had reached the edge of the cliff, and found her to be clinging to a small, but somewhat stable ledge. Frowning, he merely levitated himself and floated down to where she was, stopping and hovering right behind her. The girl turned her head and looked at him, her eyes half open and somewhat cloudy, blood trickling down her face and cheek. Her grip slipped slightly sending pebbles into the canyon below. Just as Piccolo went to grab her hands skidded from the ledge as she fell unconscious again. Piccolo caught her anyway, merely adjusting his height to catch her. She fell with a small noise into his arms, lying there limply. Piccolo sighed a little as he began to levitate back up to where she had fallen, stopping momentarily to retrieve her sword. Upon handling it, however, he found it to feel strange. By the time they reached the top and sword had begun to burn.

Piccolo dropped the blade with a small cry, looking at the sword, and then his hand, nearly dropping the girl at the same time. It was then that he discovered that it was not burning his hand, that in fact it was freezing it to the point that it felt like fire. Slowly the pain began to subside and the feeling began to come back into his hand, and he stared at the blade, then at the owner. He decided that the spot where he had landed was a good spot to make camp for the night, so he gently set the young elf down on the sandy ground and made a small fire. The sky was darkening into a deep blue, and stars began to dot the heavens. The gay firelight illuminated the canyon walls with warm orange light as the tall stranger in the strange land dressed the elf's wounds and wrapped her ankle; sure that he was doing her a favor. Her raven, to his surprise, had morphed into a large white wolf while he tended to her. It growled once at him, then padded over to where his companion was and lay next to her, falling asleep.

"This is all too strange..." Piccolo mumbled to himself before going off to meditate.

He meditated for a good while before she began ranting in her sleep. A sudden scream aroused him from his meditative state; a wavering, sick scream. Piccolo's eyes snapped open at the sound as he jumped up and took a defensive posture on instinct, his eyes darting from here to there. Soon afterwards he discovered that it was only the elf girl crying out in her slumber. He let out a sigh and cursed himself for being so foolish as he settled back down again, ready to go back to his meditations.

The girl cried out again, only louder this time. She tossed her head back and forth violently, clenching her fists and breathing hard, as if she had been running a great distance. Although too weak to actually get up, her eyes suddenly opened and she looked about wildly, as if she were being chased by something.

"...no...No! You won't take them again! Not again! Never NEVER again!!" she cried out feverishly, suddenly sitting up. Piccolo started slowly to his feet, but the girl saw him do so and reached for her sword. Before he could get to it first she had taken it up and was trying to stand.

"Hah! You thought you could kill my family and still come back in one piece?" she shouted, stumbling as she tried to get up. However, she merely fell back down upon the sand, sword in hand, and began to slowly calm down again. Her eyes slipped closed as she let out a long breath, a few beads of sweat falling down her neck onto the sand. Piccolo sat down again and watched her, not really sure what to do besides keep her calm and comfortable. He dug in her bag she had dropped while running from the forest and searched through it to find a small container of salve, which he applied to the wound on her forehead, and some rags and other trinkets. Taking his own water-skin, he wetted one of the rags and laid it on her forehead, hoping that it would help to bring the fever down.

"She just needs to sleep it off."

He assured himself. "She will be fine in the morning. Then things will become clear." With that thought, he went about his meditations again.

~*~*~*~*~

The girl began to come around some time later, sometime around dawn. She moaned deep in her throat and slowly opened her eyes against the throbbing in her forehead, feeling herself push against the softness of the sand beneath her. She slowly elbowed herself up, her hand finding itself to her head in one floating movement. Looking down, she saw her ankle splinted and wrapped tightly, and, with further inspection, she found that the rest of her wounds had been tended to as well. She frowned and sat up the rest of the way; her head swimming a bit from dizziness and the fatigue that seemed to be clinging to her like a lost child. The wolf next to her awakened as well and yawned, showing its two rows of sharp looking teeth and his huge pink tongue. Smiling a little through her pain, the girl reached out and stroked the wolf's head and scratched behind his ears. The wolf curled up next to her and sighed in a doggish way while the girl went to search for her sword. She didn't have far to look, however, because it lay in the sand next to her. She picked it up and sheathed it, groaning against the sudden movement and tried to stand, but the attempt was a failed one. She merely sat back down upon the sand and leaned against a rock that had shielded them through the night.

Seeming to remember the night before, she suddenly looked around, searching for the strange man that had supposedly been sent by Al'Thor. She didn't see him at first, but then spotted him on the cliff above. He was sitting cross-legged on the cliff, his eyes appearing to be closed and his hands clasped in his lap. His cloak flapped out behind him in the early morning wind, and he seemed to be floating. Frowning, she realized that this would be her only opportunity to escape. The girl got to her feet and began to try and sneak away, but temporarily forgetting about her ankle, she put her weight on it and let out a pained cry. Suddenly the man was in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So, this is how you repay me?" he asked in a husky tone. "I tend to you, dress your wounds and put up with your delirium all through the night, and you run? How rude. Of course, I do not know why I should have even cared, but I did, and you should feel grateful."

The girl was speechless for a moment. "How - how did you get down here so fast...?"

Piccolo merely smirked. "So you were afraid of me a few minutes ago, but now you want to know how I can do this?" He was suddenly behind her. The girl jumped and nearly fell to the ground, but nodded in reply. Piccolo let out a small laugh.

"It took me years of practice to learn that, so how could I show you in a few minutes? And why would I want to? I merely saved you because I thought you had potential with the power level I read from you. I have no obligation to show you anything." Piccolo replied in his usual cold way. "So, if you are well enough, I will be on my way. I have things I could better use my time with."

"I'm fine now, thanks to you." The girl replied, the closest thing to a thank you she could come up with at the time without sounding too grateful. "But I have things to do as well. Snowblind, let's get going."

Piccolo grunted. "Fine. Goodbye." He replied, then flew off to the top of the cliff. The girl turned her back as well and started off in the direction of the forest, coming at it in a different angle. The previous sandstorm had blown a few dunes in between the trees, but a little ways into the woods proved that the sand couldn't penetrate the wooded area. She limped on through the woods for a great while until she came upon a clearing that boasted a village. Some people recognized her instantly and either ran to their houses or greeted her warmly, offering assistance because of her injuries. She declined, however, and thanked them anyway, after which she headed to the local tavern to find a place to sleep for the next few days until she was well enough to go on.

Unbeknownst to her, Piccolo was following at a distance, reading her power signal to the town. He hovered above the trees and watched her limp through the woods and the town, somehow still a little concerned at her progress.

"Why am I still even worried? I have nothing to do with that ungrateful brat, I do not care how powerful she is." Piccolo told himself. "But if I do not care, why do I feel obligated to watch her...?"

While Piccolo pondered this question the girl had walked into the tavern and was inquiring about a room for rent. The barkeep told her that he indeed had a room, but it was a going to cost her. The girl merely set a small bag on the counter and opened it, spilling out a pile of gold coins. The barkeep smiled and took them, tossing her a key to her room. The Elvin girl smiled and thanked him, limping up to her room to put her things away. After a few minutes she came back down the stairs and sat at a secluded table, her wolf sitting at her side. A scrawny looking bar wench walked to the table and smiled down at the girl, speaking to her in a heavy Irish accent.

"Bless the child! It's been a while since ye've graced our presence, Ryven! How ken I help ya? The usual?" she said happily. Ryven smiled back at her.

"No, something stronger this day, Isa. I think I need it," she replied, sighing a bit. Isa frowned. Ryven watched as the man at the bar eyed her suspiciously and sent for a small page. The page nodded after a few low words from the bar owner, then walked out of the door.

"What has happened this time, lass?" asked the bar wench. "An' what happened to ye'r head? An' ye'r ankle?"

"Just get me a dragon ale and I'll tell you the story." Ryven replied. "And then you can tell me when the Misery's End got a new barkeep."

Isa smiled again and went to the bar, pulling a mug from under the counter and filling it to the brim with a deep red liquid. Bringing it back, Isa set it on the table and sat in the chair next to Ryven. Isa scratched Snowblind's ear absentmindedly from under the table as she prepared to listen to Ryven's tale.

"Well, I was in another village not too far from here, walking through the street and looking for a healer to tend to my broken ankle, which I had broken in a fight a few hours before." Ryven began. "And just as I was about to go into the general store to get some information on the healers and things, I saw Al'Thor's men start down the street. Since they now have orders to capture me on sight, I ran into the nearest building, which was, at the time, a small little tavern. But not nearly as nice as yours, Isa."

Isa smiled broadly. "Thank ye, lass."

"You're welcome. Anyway, I ran into the tavern, since I knew I was not in any shape to fight them off, and tried to hide among the patrons of the bar. It worked for a while, until one of the patrons saw my ankle and insisted upon buying me a drink to ease the pain." Ryven continued, taking a swig of the ale, making a face and setting it down. "Well, he was so insistent upon it that I knew if I told him no, I'd make a scene and draw more attention to myself, so I accepted it and took the drink. Big mistake. It turns out that the drink was some kind of house special, something with a lot of kick. I was drunk before I knew it, and was in two brawls at the same time. That drew attention to Al'Thor's men, and the came rushing in. Upon seeing me, they start after me, and I run into the forest." Ryven paused and drank some more of her ale, nearly draining it. Her ankle had grown numb now, as the effects of the strong ale were starting to take effect.

Isa frowned. "I've always hated Al'Thor's method of justice."

"Aye, if it can even be called that. But anyway, I ran in the forest until the forest ran out, and it led to the desert. There was this huge sandstorm, and I took the chance to run into it to loose Al'Thor's minions. I guess it was there that I passed out the first time. But when I woke up there was this huge green man above me! Bigger than Jacob was!" Ryven exclaimed, raising her arms to demonstrate how large he was. Isa's eyes grew wide.

"Are you sure it wasn't just that house special that you drank earlier on?" she asked in amazement. Ryven nodded.

"Doubly sure. I thought he was one of Al'Thor's illusions again, but it turns out that he wasn't. Because as I was trying to get away from him I slipped and fell over the side of this cliff! Yes, I fell over the side of a cliff, Isa, don't rub it in. And he flew down and saved me! I mean, really flew! That was when I passed out the second time, since I smacked my head really good in the way down." Ryven pointed to the bandage on her head. "But when I woke up, he had dressed my wounds and everything, and kept me safe during the night. He said I was delirious and everything. Strange, huh?"

Isa nodded. "Aye, indeed! What happened to the man?"

"Well, he up and left. A cold hearted man he is. And then I left, and now I'm here." Ryven finished, also finishing off her ale at the same time. Isa smiled and sat up a little.

"Well, lass, it seems ye've had an eventful day or so, haven't ye?" she commented. "Another ale?"

Please. Anything to kill this pain."

"Alright then." She went to the bar and filled her mug again, then came back.

Now Isa, when did the End get a new barkeep?"

Oh, a few months ago, I think it was. The older one was taken away by Al'Thor himself." Isa replied bitterly. "This new one was appointed by the town sheriff- Oh no, Ryven! That means-"

Ryven jumped up, wavering a bit on her foot and her slightly drunken state. She reached for her sword and went to the bar, grabbing the barkeep by the collar. The tender squealed like a small pig as Ryven pulled him closer to her face by his shirt. She snarled at him and placed her blade at his throat, growling menacingly. Though she was only eight, she had the barkeep frightened out of his wits.

"What did you send that page to do, huh? Did you send him out to get your boss? Huh? Did you think you were going to catch me and get a reward?"

"As a matter of fact, that's just what he thought." A voice came from the doorway. Ryven whirled around to face three guards, all with Al'Thor's crest upon their thin breastplates. Isa let out a small cry and looked angry, standing up and planting her hands on her hips. Ryven dropped the barkeep and took a defensive stance next to Isa.

" Hey, all of ye! Out of my bar! Get out, I don't want any trouble!" Isa shouted, pointing to the door, but the men merely stood there defiantly.

"You wouldn't be obstructing Al'Thor's orders, would ye?" the smaller one asked sarcastically. "We have direct orders to arrest this renegade on sight."

"On what charge?" Isa demanded, glancing down at Ryven for a moment.

"High treason to the throne!" was the reply. Ryven let out a choked laugh.

"High treason my ass!" she spat at them. "I'm merely a hired blade. Your tyrant king is merely mad that I'm foiling his attempt to cast this land into its darkest days! There is no treason here, merely duty."

"Heh...your kind would call it duty." The first guard retorted.

Ryven narrowed her eyes. "You leave that out of this."

"Why? Why should we listen to a nameless little half-breed like you?" the guard taunted. Ryven let out a low growl and gripped her sword tightly. Outside of the bar, Piccolo had just landed and was listening to the whole conversation, for he sensed there would be trouble.

"My heritage has nothing to do-"

"Oh yes it does! Al'Thor would go a lot easier on you if he didn't know that your parents were of different races! I mean, what did your high elf mother ever see in your lowly valley elf father?" He sneered. "Now any hope of you being one of us is totally washed away by your tainted blood."

"Shut your mouth, fowl bastard!" Ryven suddenly exploded. The one guard merely laughed.

"And on top of that, your family had to die! I mean, not only did your family die, but also your whole village died! All because of you!" Ryven continued to fume as the guard went on. "All because of you, your blood and your freakish powers resulting from your parent's forbidden union! So now you're just a freakish, nameless half-breed lacking any family, and with that, lacking honor! Responsible for your very family's death!"

"Stop it now, or leave my bar! I'm a human, and do not care about Elvin affairs, so ye 'ave no jurisdiction here!" Isa shouted angrily. The guards merely laughed at her, but didn't notice the Ryven was tensing for an attack. She started to glow a light blue as her anger rose, gripping her sword tighter and tighter. Finally she let out a loud, high-pitched cry and sprung at the guards, sword raised above her head and ready for a lethal strike.

"I do have a name!!!" she screamed as she planted her blade in the shoulder and chest of the taunting guard. The guard screamed in agony as he went down, Ryven landing on top of him. The other guards cried out in surprise as they went for their own swords, drawing them and coming at her like twin locomotives. Ryven jumped from the first guard's chest and avoided the two's blows, landing behind them on her good foot. One ran toward her and she crouched low, throwing him over her shoulder and into the wall behind her. The guard hit the wall with a loud "oof", and was out of the fight for a while. The third soldier brandished his sword in front of him, bringing it down only to meet Ryven's, making a blaring clang as the two metals met.

The soldier pressed forward on her, driving her back and making her put weight on her misshapen ankle. She bit back screams of pain as she began to draw strength from her pain, pushing him back suddenly and unlocking the blades. She whirled around once and slashed at his middle with her blade, hitting her mark dead on, The guard spluttered blood and fell to the floor. Ryven let out a loud, sighing breath as she straightened out and sheathed her sword. Suddenly from the wall, however, the guard leapt up and tackled her, driving her to the floor and pinning her there, sneering widely down at her. Ryven screamed and struggled to rise from his grip, but found that his lumbering body was too much for her to throw off.

"Gotcha now, half breed. Al'Thor's gonna promote me for bringing you in," he laughed sinisterly above her. Ryven let out a grunt or two as she tried to get her knees up under the oaf, but to no avail. He merely slammed them down upon the floor and laughed, drawing a pain filled cry from Ryven as her ankle was jarred. She suddenly began to glow again, a small crest of three interlaced rings appearing on her forehead under the bandage. The glow became brighter and brighter as it grew, until it became a force itself and blasted the guard from on top of her to the opposite wall. Ryven struggled to her feet, already feeling the fatigue, and suddenly smiled. She held out her hand in front of her, a small glow appearing in her palm. It grew and grew until it was the size of a cantaloupe, then she threw it at the soldier. But to her dismay he dodged it and came right for her.

"I know about your freakish tricks, girly!" he shouted as he ran. "I will not be fooled by them as my comrades were!"

At that moment someone from outside roared in a low voice, and the Inn was suddenly engulfed in light, Ryven's eyes grew wide as she leapt from the blast's path, watching it travel to the guard that was racing toward her. He let out a scream as the blast hit him and drove him into the wall, blasting him through it and disintegrating him as it did so. Soon the light faded and the screams had dissipated, and Ryven looked in amazement toward the door. Standing there was the same man who she had met in the desert.

"It's...it's you!" she stammered from her spot on the ground. Isa rushed to her side and began to help her up, having the elf girl lean on her shoulder. Piccolo merely raised an eyebrow.

"You never said anything about your ability to manipulate ki, girl." Piccolo replied calmly. Ryven looked a blank.

"Ki?" she repeated. Isa started to take her from the bar, calling to Snowblind to follow her. She briefly looked over the bar to see the barkeep passed out on the floor.

"I'm taking ye t'my house, lass. Ye may rest there." Isa told her. "As for ye, stranger, yemay come as well, since ye'saved my friend and me, even though ye did damage my bar."

Piccolo watched them leave the bar and start down the muddy street, and decided to follow them. It was then that he decided that the girl was definitely a great wealth of power, and that it would be in his best interest to keep her around if he was to ever get home. So he began to follow the human and the elf to the human's small house near the center of town. Isa kicked open the door and led Ryven inside, leaving the door open for Piccolo.

"There ye are, lass. Just lie there for a while and sleep it off." She told her. "I'll see if I can try and find a healer in town." Isa left with no more to say, closing the door tightly behind her. Piccolo watched her leave, then walked over to where Isa had led Ryven, which was a small pile of hay in the corner.

You're back...I thought you said you didn't care about me and all of that?" Ryven said with her eyes closed. "Why did you help me? It does not concern you."

Piccolo thought a moment. "It would be such a waste for a power such as yours to die in something as stupid as a bar brawl."

Ryven opened her eyes at that. "My power is nothing but a trouble-causing burden. You saw what it did back there. It's nothing to brag about. I'd rather not talk about it, let alone use it."

"With proper training, that burden could be a formidable ally. And it would help to increase your other skills as well."

"Increase them? And stand out more than I already do?" Ryven replied. "Forget it. And who would teach me? You?"

"Hai."

"No, I won't. I'm already a freak, I don't need to add to it."

"Fine then. It is your decision, after all." Piccolo replied. With that he turned and walked from the house, taking to the air and flying from sight. Ryven watched him go from where she lay on the straw, sighing a little and easing her ankle into a more comfortable position. Inwardly she wished that she had never been born, so that so many people would have been living to that day. The day her parent's had died had been a life changing event for her, transforming her from the sweet child she was to the cold, untrusting soul she was to that day. She remembered the day it had happened vividly, and it often haunted her in her dreams at night, depriving her of a great deal of sleep. It had been a horrible thing, much more than any child should have to experience.

Ryven shook the thought from her mind as she tried to sit back and rest a little, feeling the last few days catch up with her in one big blow. She laid back some more and attempted to sleep, but she kept thinking of the strange man's words, about how he could help her to control and increase her powers. She wrestled with the thought for some time until she finally slipped into a fitful sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

A sudden scream awoke Ryven, and she jumped up instinctively to see what was the matter. Hobbling over to the window, she saw that there was a fight out in the middle of the street, a group of guards seeming to beat someone up pretty badly. Grabbing her sword, she half limped, half ran outside to the group, snarling threateningly at them.

"You! What do you think you're doing?!" she shouted, brandishing her sword. Snowblind ran up beside her in a few seconds, snarling just as his counterpart was. The guards suddenly turned and glared at the girl, but then seemed to remember what happened to their compatriots. Turning tail, they ran down the street to their horses, mounting them and riding away as fast as they could. Ryven cursed them for cowards and turned her attention to the victim lying in the street, limping toward the person quickly. Ryven was shocked to find it was Isa, broken and bleeding in the dirty street. Ryven gasped and fell next to her, holding her head in her lap and trying to comfort her. Isa smiled up at her weakly.

Lass, I didn't tell 'em where ye were." Isa told her faintly. Ryven shook her head.

If it would have kept you well you should have. I could have handled them." She replied. "Isa, I have to get you to a cleric."

"Naw, dun bother with me, child. I think I'll be leavin' this place in a little while anyways." Isa told her, a bit of fear creeping into her voice.

"Don't talk like that, Isa! You can't die now! I won't let you! You're my friend!" Ryven's voice cracked a little at the word friend. Her hard outer shell seemed to disappear. Eyes widened with fear, she seemed for a moment the little girl she really was. Isa smiled softly and touched Ryven's cheek, feeling that a few tears were being shed.

I'll be going out knowin' that I helped a friend in need. That's all I be needin' to know." Isa murmured. "It be my time now, Lass. The fates seem to be set on it."

"Damn the fates, Isa! It's not your time!" Ryven was near hysterics now. "I won't let you be mu- murdered! Not by him!"

Let it go child, let it go." Isa attempted to ease her, her breath growing shallow as her voice grew faint. "Gods willing, I'll...see...ye in a better place."

Isa died.

Ryven stared in disbelief at her dead friend of many years, and her tears stopped for the moment. She sat in the street, her head bowed until finally she took to her feet and screamed, throwing her head back and letting out an ear piercing shriek. Her shriek slowly faded to sobbing as she crumpled in the street again, leaning over Isa's body. Ryven's mind was racing, and everything seemed to blur into a big tapestry of despair as her mind snapped. Everything that had happened in the last few days, everything that had gone on the last 2 elvin years had built up to that day.

"No no NO!!! Not again! Not another one NO!!" she screamed, jumping to her feet and running out of town, despite her ankle. She ran sobbing through the town, through the forest and finally into the desert, kicking up sand as she ran through the wasteland. Suddenly she stopped and collapsed on her knees, panting heavily. She then unsheathed her blade and held it to her chest, already shaking from her hysteric sobs. She closed her eyes tightly, ready to impale herself on her own blade, ready to welcome death. But something in her cried out against it, a faint voice of reason ringing in her ears. She let her sword drop as she tossed her head back, screaming through her tears.

"PLEASE!! I WANT YOUR HELP NOW! I'M READY!! PLEASE, WHEREVER YOU ARE I WANT YOUR HELP NOW!" she shrieked pitifully, her sobbing voice cracking in several places.

"Please...!" she croaked out, letting her head droop, as with the rest of her body. Ryven collapsed on the sand in a sobbing heap before she passed out.