*emphasis*  :mental communication:



Prophecies



 Prologue

	The boy stumbled through the dark woods, tripping on exposed 
roots and low shrubs.  Normally he was quite agile, but he was 
injured and the growing weakness in his limbs due to blood loss 
robbed him of his usual grace.
	  His large violet eyes flicked back 
and forth wildly, looking first in front of him, then behind.  
Forward lay an endless expanse of dark, cold, dangerous woods, but he 
would gladly have welcomed the dangers, if it saved him from what was 
behind...  Behind him he could hear the sounds of pursuit growing 
louder.
	He took another faltering step forward, then fell as he 
wounded leg finally gave out from under him.  He swore viciously, 
trying to get back to his feet, but it was no good.  The long gash 
down the front of his left thigh was still bleeding freely as was the 
wound on his right palm.  He'd been sleeping behind a shed, trying to 
grab a few hours of rest before resuming his flight across the 
country.  The Special Forces soldiers must have been closer than he'd 
thought, because he remembered hearing a step, then feeling a sharp 
blow to the head.  When he woke up he'd been bound hand and foot, 
lying at the edge of the soldier's campfire.  It had taken him only a 
few minutes to slip out of the ropes, and he'd been on his way out of 
the campsite when he had the bad fortune to run into a pair of 
soldiers coming back from answering a call of nature, of all things!  
Someone up there didn't like him.  He'd killed them both, but not 
before receiving the wound to his thigh, and the one to his hand when 
he used it to deflect a blow that might have killed him.  A stupid 
mistake, that, but one that he was paying for in spades.
	He'd bound the wounds as best he could with strips of cloth 
torn from his shirt, but it obviously wasn't good enough.  He'd been 
steadily loosing blood for the last several hours, ever since he 
escaped the Special Forces, but he was so tired...
	 he shouted silently at himself, and got to his feet, 
leaning heavily on a tree.    He lurched away from 
the tree and tried to flee.  He made it all of five steps away before 
his leg collapsed out from under him again.  It just refused to bear 
his weight.  But worse than that was the slight tingle that ran up 
and down his spine, and one that had nothing to do with the cold 
drizzle that had him soaked to the bone.  Violet eyes narrowed 
dangerously.    He quietly expanded his 
sphere of responsibility, but found nothing.    The distant observer meant that the one thing 
that might have saved him at this point was the one thing he couldn't 
do.
A sense of resignation settled over him, although he was by no means 
defeated.  He propped himself up against a tree and waited for the 
Special Forces troops to arrive.    A predatory grin appeared on his face, 
and he tossed his bangs out of his eyes.  Much of his knee-length 
brown hair had escaped the braid he usually kept it in, and he 
carefully pushed it out of his way, behind his back.   he thought with a grim humor, 
fingering one of the three knives he had left.  He'd throw two of 
them, he decided, and save the third to defend himself.
	"Hey, I think I see something!" someone shouted from very 
close, and he involuntarily stiffened.  
	A few minutes later he saw a faint light emerge from the 
gloom.  It was soon revealed to be a group of eight well-armed men, 
with the leader carrying a mage-light in a crystal attached to a 
staff.  The crystal flared brightly and a ray of light shot out of 
it, illuminating the boy.
	
	His left hand tightened around one of his knives.  He wasn't 
as good a shot with his left hand, but it was good enough.  He 
suddenly had a new primary target as he heard one of the men.
	"There it is!" the man shouted.  "The one that calls itself 
Duo Maxwell!"
	 he wondered, furious.  One of 
the villagers in the last village must have told them.  He promised 
himself he would find them who had given him away and punish them.
	Duo snarled silently.   he thought, furious.  He raised his arm, then cast his knife at the 
seeking crystal.  It struck the crystal, which promptly shattered in 
a burst of light.
	The soldiers swore, and several fumbled for flint to light 
torches.  As soon as they did, his second knife found its mark in the 
neck of the man in the lead.  He fell to the ground with blood 
bubbling out of his lips.  
	Duo smirked.   he 
thought with more than a little bit of scorn and self-hatred 
accompanying that thought.
	"So you finally caught up with me, huh?" he asked with a 
grin.  "It sure took you long enough.  You really ought to get 
someone to teach you how to tie knots properly.  
	"You little..." one of the men threatened, but broke off when 
he saw the last knife Duo still held.
	"You were saying?  I've still got one left.  Who's it going 
to be?" he said, and deliberately licked his lips.  It was definitely 
satisfying to see half of the soldiers cringe at his action.
	"You hear what it said?" another one said.  "It's only got 
one knife left.  Spread out and surround it.  We can capture it now."
	Duo hid his rage at continually being referred to 
as 'it'.  "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked 
playfully.  "It might be bad for your health," he said, and flexed 
the fingers of his wounded hand, causing a faint glow to form around 
them.  This much normal mages could do, and if he used his powers 
this way, it wouldn't tip off his unseen watcher that he was 
different.  
	"Nice try, faery, but we're guarded against pain, and one of 
your kind can't injure with your power," the first man said.
	  An incoherent 
growl burst from his lips, and the first man laughed.
	"See, nothing but an animal," he said.  "It knows that it 
can't touch us as long as we have these!" his hand went to his chest 
to grasp the protective pendant they all - damn them - were wearing.  
He continued to laugh for a minute, then stopped and stared in 
surprise at the knife-hilt protruding from his chest, just beneath 
his protective pendant.  
	Duo got a great deal of satisfaction out of watching the body 
fall over, but had instant reason to regret his impetuous action when 
the remaining six soldiers jumped on him.  He fought back the best he 
could, but they soon had him pinned to the ground.  They immediately 
set to work binding his arms and lets so that he could barely move.  
They gagged him, too, so he couldn't even get at them that way.
	Then they brought it out.
	He'd known this was coming since they started hunting him.  
He'd known what happened to those the Special Forces caught, but that 
didn't keep him from panicking when he saw the metal collar gleaming 
dully in the soldier's hands, he started thrashing wildly, 
desperately trying to free himself.   his mind shrieked.  Intellectually he knew that 
it was hopeless and that he'd only aggravate his injuries, but he 
couldn't help it.  They were going to try to turn him into a slave, 
or worse, into some sort of animal.
	But he couldn't move, and two of them held his hair out of 
the way and fastened the metal collar around his throat.  It almost 
choked him, and he forced himself to calm down so he wouldn't 
asphyxiate himself.  He stopped struggling.  It was pointless now.