Part VII

She awakens early the next morning, again before Quinlan. When she steps out of the tent with her camera, she sees the sun's only barely peeking over the mountains to the east, painting the snow orange and yellow on the eastward facing peaks and the snow to the west an odd blue-purple. She starts taking pictures of the amazing view.

Hn...what if he chooses neither one of us?

She blinks a little, wondering where the hell THAT came from.

Well...I guess that is an option. I mean the decision is a tough one...and I know he doesn't want to hurt either of us. So, he chooses to be alone for a while. Huh...well...it IS an option he could choose.

Her brows furrow slightly as she starts a fire to begin breakfast on. She suddenly smirks.

Or he could try to get us to battle for him. I can just see it..."Fight of the Century! The Moron Queen versus the ex-Vampire Queen! Watch as the battle for the Cat-Man's heart!"

A snicker worms its way from her throat as she envisions herself and Lisette decked out in an odd mix of medieval armor and spandex, revealing bikini-type, facing off in a ring, looking like a cross between a boxing ring, a scene from Mortal Kombat and a mud wrestling set, with Klork up on a pedestal wearing a blue sash  that reads "First Prize".

She smirks and shakes her head.

I'd have to smack him if he tried it. Gah...the porno networks would be all over it, though... Oy, Moron, now you're just being silly...

She gives Quinlan a lopsided grin when he steps out of the tent and offers him his breakfast.

Oh well...whatever happens happens, and there ain't much I can do about it...I love the guy, and I really do want to be with him, body and soul, but he needs to decide what's best for him, too. Whatever choice he makes is his own, and now I think I can honestly deal with being pushed away...ah well, onward and upward...

"So, Quinlan, what were you gonna tell me about the whole family thing?"

He arches a brow and comes over to help her take the tent down. "It can wait...."

She mutters softly under her breath. "You know, I've been waiting almost a week for you to finish that story..."

He sighs softly and shakes his head, shrugging on his pack as she does hers. "Alright...I am sorry...the story is simply not a happy one."

A wry smile twists her lips. "They seldom are..."

"Very true." A sigh whispers from his lips as a few more pictures are taken before she kneels to kiss her fingertips, press them to Hacker's grave and then stand to start the decent.

"The family," he continues, "is very important where I hail from, and this breeds staunch loyalty. This has the potential to be a very good thing. Unfortunately, this can also start wars between families far more serious than any simple feud. My  clan, or family, the Donovan Clan, has been at war with the Caedmon Clan for centuries."

She nods slowly, brows furrowed. "What started it?"

He shrugs. "The stories differ. Some say it was the spurning of a lover; others say the murder of an innocent. The truth has been lost over the years. The war, however, rages on."

Biting her lip a little, she nods.

"In fact, that is where The Hunt comes from. A boy must hunt down and murder a Caedmon, then bring back his or her head as a trophy. They have much the same tradition, only they hunt us of course. Anyone is fair game, as well." He sighs and shakes his head.

"Man," she mutters. "That's barbaric."

He nods. "I know. That is why I convinced them to let me do this instead."

HLM watches him, brows furrowed. "Ok..."

Quinlan glances over at her. "Unfortunately, you are part of both clans."

She blinks, outright staring at him while they hike. "What?!"

He sighs, adjusting his mittens a little. "When the government captured me, they captured the woman hunting me as well."

A delicate brow arches as she looks into his eyes. "So, I take it women can go through the manhood rite, too."

He nods with a smirk. "If they want to take certain paths, yes."

She furrows her brow at his sigh. "If you don't feel you can continue, you don't have to..."

He shakes his head. "This is something you must know. She is one of your mothers, but she wants to kill you."

"Oh...well, THAT figures. If it's not one thing, it's another."

A smirk crosses his face. "That is the other reason I wanted to find you...to warn and help you. She is a warrior first, mage second, where I am a mage first, warrior second."

"Oh...I get it. Alone we'd die; together we...have more of a chance of living to see our next respective birthdays, huh?"

He nods with a smirk. "Exactly. One catch."

"Yeah?"

"One of you must be dead by the end of the fight."

"...I...but...why?"

He sighs. "That is the way of our people. If an child of mixed blood grows to adulthood, the parents have a right to battle him or her to the death. This is unusual because the child is usually killed at birth."

She blinks. "Hold the phone...didn't you say children were rare and cherished?"

"Most are, but mixed bloods aren't by most."

She cringes. "Isn't THAT nice to know..."

"I am sorry, daughter..."

"I know...but...man...you're saying I have to kill my own mother!"

He furrows his brow. "I know. But it is something that must be done."

She sighs softly, rubbing lightly at her injured arm.

Well...damn...looks like Klork might not need to worry about choosing after all...

Her eyes drop to the snow.

Man...who needs a peaceful vacation?  It just ain't in the cards...

"No way  outa it, huh?"

He shakes his head. "Short of suicide, no..."

"Damn...well..."

A bright blue beam streaks out of nowhere, aimed directly at HLM's head. She ducks to the side, but flies back, the force of the glancing blow driving her back several feet, plowing up snow as she goes. She shakes her head painfully, leaps to her feet and growls deep in her throat.

Before her stands a woman her height, cloaked in sparkling silver armor, mane of hair the exact shade of HLM's whipping in the wind. "So we finally meet, child."

HLM narrows her eyes and unsheathes the sword hidden among her gear, the same one Klork gave her, and stalks towards the woman. "Hell of a loving greeting, mumzy. Nice to know you care."

"Only thing I care about, bastard child, is seeing you dead!" Her hands glow as she readies another blast.

The beam she lets fly is deflected by an invisible shield suddenly sprung up in front of HLM by Quinlan.

"Edana," he calls with a glare. "You know as well as I do that the death-battle must be a fair one! She has had her magic stolen! That means you must fight with weaponry and skill alone, as well!"

Edana's sparkling red-brown eyes narrow. "That is her weakness, and she must compensate for it!"

"And she will," he cries, holding the shield around his daughter. "But so must you!"

The elven woman growls and snaps her arms out to her sides. "Fine!" She turns her burning gaze to HLM. "We will battle Underhill, girl, and make no mistake; you WILL die!" She vanishes with a swirl of white energy.

Quinlan sighs and drops the shield, summoning a cloth the clean the shallow gash in HLM's cheek as she sheaths her blade.

"Well, daughter, that was one of your mothers. What do you think of her?"

HLM winces slightly. "She's a bitch."

He laughs. "Very fitting choice of words."

She smirks, bringing a hand up to press the cloth to her cheek. "Why does it tingle so much?"

"She shot you with a levin bolt... That's the magic you feel. Now you must rid yourself of all Death Metal."

The young woman blinks, brows furrowing, that term still very new to her. "Huh?"

"Any forms of iron you have with you."

"...huh? Why?" Despite her confusion, she takes off her pack and the small arsenal concealed within her clothing before hiding it within the snow.

"We are going Underhill now, that much Death Metal will seriously damage the very structure of that world."

She nods. "Uh...ok...uhm...what about the zippers and stuff in my cloths?"

He opens a portal and ushers her through. "You will wear different clothing; what you wear now will be stored in silk."

"Uhm," she steps into a huge room, decorated in a dark gothic style; the colors black and deep red; the textures satin and silk. She stops for a moment to stare at the large canopy bed and antique-looking furniture scattered throughout. "Well...holy shit..."

Quinlan chuckles, and when she turns to give him a shocked look, is clothed in black leggings, a deep red tunic and a black mage-in-training's robe, holding a staff in one hand, a flowing red garment in the other. "Clean up, daughter, sleep for the night, and wear this until we can find you some other clothing and battling gear."

She bites  her lip and nods, taking the sleeping gown in her hands. "I...uhm...o...ok...thanks..."

He smiles and gently kisses her brow. "We'll finish this as soon as we can. Then you can return to the mountain if you wish."

She nods dazedly as he leaves the room, staring at the closed for a few moments before stripping down and putting her clothing in the silk-lined drawer she finds in the dresser.

Man...things got real weird real fast...

Nude, she wanders into the bathing room, unwrapping her arm before lowering herself into the bath after she draws it. She sinks back into the warm water with a sigh.

Once...just once...I'd like to have a NORMAL vacation...

She purses her lips as she washes herself.

Then again...I get the feeling that's just way too much to ask for.

Her brows furrow slightly.

I hope I survive this...and won't have to send Klork one of those "Before I die, I just wanted to tell you, I love you" mental messages...

With a sigh she finishes cleaning herself, dries off and slips into the sleeping gown before sliding into the bed. Closing her eyes and doing her best to get some sleep in this strange place.

Part VI
Part VIII
Otherworldly Comforts Index