Terjal saw the creature first.

Creeping Lust's spiral shell bobbed slowly along the pastureland's horizon as its long muscular foot kneaded the earth beneath it; a trail of slime winked in the bright sunshine. A thick swarm of large envies circled lazily above the giant gastropod, doubtless having recently fed. Even though Terjal's party was fast approaching the creatures, and the surrounding land offered no opportunity for concealment, the giant snail and its spawn seemed to take little notice of their pursuers.

Slowing their pace, yet still following the direspawn, Terjal, riding behind Aiya, called to his Blades to draw their horses near. They had entrusted their few remaining pack-mules to the calvarymen so that the women and children would have something to ride as they journeyed to Windemere. The questers own contingent of horses numbered only three: Strandholt riding alone; Darman and Arjas paired upon a single mount, while Terjal and Aiya rode together. Unfortunately, the soldiers had no horses left to spare, for even the dead soldiers' mounts had died beneath them, having been stung as mercilessly as their riders.

So the three horses trotted side by side with Terjal and Aiya's mount in the middle. "I should hope," Terjal told the others, "that the defeat of this direspawn will be easier than the last. We are armed this time with some rudimentary knowledge of the creature and," holding aloft a plump leather pouch, "a little salt which Aiya and I will conjure into a giant net; when the net is sprung upon it, the creature should dissolve--but not before I've had a chance for a mind-delve. Once that is done, the shell must be destroyed since it is where the creature derives much of its power."

"As for the envies," Aiya continued, her gaze trained upon the creatures moving ahead, "they shouldn't be a problem once their 'mother' is dead. We have found that the envies are inextricably linked with the mother-direspawn, so long as it lives, they live. If it dies, then they too die."

"Darman," Terjal added. "You, Strandholt and Arjas will have your weapon hands busy slashing at the envies while Aiya and I reign in and destroy the direspawn. Before you set upon them, Aiya and I will cloak the three of you in spell--shielding--but do not depend too heavily upon it, the power may not last long."

"If we work fast enough," Arjas said, his voice touched with his familiar old humor, "it won't matter. We'll have the sky raining envie-blood before you're finished--and if I have time, I might just hack off their stingers and make a necklace of them."

Strandholt grinned over at Arjas. "That's an old Outsiders' tradition. Spare a few of the stingers for me as well--I'd like to bring a necklace to the Shel'han."

"For once," Darman added, a rare grin emerging from his seasoned visage like greenery escaping frost, "a plan is to be executed exactly as set down by the leader. No foul-ups, and no betrayals, and above all, no politics to bugger up this one."

Terjal thought no statesman could have made a better statement.

###

Quickly, they tethered the horses to a group of winter-rotted logs and advanced on foot toward the slow-moving direspawn. The three Blades, weapons drawn and ready, were the first to make the approach. The Blades wasted no time in engaging the envies, slashing at the wasps from behind, the remaining insects turning in sharp circles to face their attackers head-on.

Darman sighted a line of envies coming toward him and let fly an arrow from his crossbow, neatly skewering four of the creatures with one shot. Strandholt leapt at the swooping wasps, landing blow after blow upon them with his poleax. Arjas, alternating between his slicing scimitar and stabbing short sword, came at his winged opponents with a grin of pleasure stretched upon his face.

Aiya watched the melee from behind a boulder, waiting for Terjal's signal. She saw him now, drawing closer to Creeping Lust, the creature having halted its movement perhaps to watch the progress of the envies. She put her hand over her dagger, the fingers spasming upon the hilt. She disliked staying behind, but knew she must.

Terjal was now directly behind the gelatinous direspawn, the pouch containing salt held in his hand. Between the distance Aiya's gaze met Terjal's and he gave a quick nod. Aiya stepped away from the rock and centered her complete attention upon Terjal, who had by now flung the salt into the air above the direspawn. Before it fell, the glittering grains began to dance like fireflies, suspended in the afternoon sunlight. Soon the salt granules joined together in a fluttering, shimmering net stretching twice the length of Creeping Lust.

Aiya closed her eyes, concentrating upon Terjal's image in her mind, separating the conjurer from those surrounding him. Even the slightest intrusion of thought could distract her, amplifying creature's power instead of Terjal's. And so she erased all other images from her mind but Terjal's, tightly focusing on the conjurer as he spread the salty net with his own spell energy.

Aiya began to feel the power mustering itself within her like a star about to explode in the heavens. The power burned like flame over her limbs, but she did not cry out in pain, trusting that no physical harm would come to her. She'd never before consciously summoned her inherent power of amplification--choosing instead to ignore such a "gift"; often pretending it did not exist at all. She hoped she'd never have to use it again after this.

Now the pain began to ebb, but Aiya still felt the energy tingling every nerve in her body. She felt her body sinking slowly, her knees folding upon the cold earth and her thoughts fading like the melting patches of snow around them. She was losing consciousness!

Terjal's image faded from her mind's view and her final sensation, before darkness swallowed her last thought, was of her cheek scraping against rough earth.

###

Terjal saw Aiya collapse but kept his concentration upon his handiwork.

He had felt the first wave of energy begin to thrum within him immediately after he'd given Aiya the signal to amplify his spell power. Once he cast the salt into the air and directed his own spell energy toward it, he felt as if his own arms might melt into its flow. Deftly he fashioned the granules into a wide net, directing it to grow ever longer, wider.

Even after Aiya had crumpled to the ground, the power continued to surge through Terjal's arms, his fingertips glowing, pulsing. With an expansive flail of his arms, Terjal cast the conjured net of salt across the giant gastropod. Once fully ensnared by the net, Terjal pulled at conjured strings, tightening the creature within its salty prison.

Trapped and helpless, the scattered dead of its progeny lying around it, Creeping Lust opened its mouth in a soundless scream of pain. Its eyestalks and tentacles waved weakly as the grey, viscid flesh began to dissolve, the body collapsing like child's ball which has lost the air within it. Seeing an opportunity, Terjal launched himself at the creature, reaching his hands through the net of salt to touch the rapidly dissolving flesh.

But try as he might, Terjal could not make the mind delve hold. The dying direspawn's anguish pelted Terjal in waves brilliant, flaring pain. Terjal quickly withdrew his arms, wet to the elbow with mucous, from the creature lest he experience its death to the end. Then he felt rough hands drag him along the earth and away from the creature.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Creeping Lust had been reduced to nothing more than a pool of grey and bubbling liquid, its shell crushed to fragments. Darman knelt over him, shaking his head. "First you nearly burn yourself trying to mind delve that fire-breathing bear; now you risk drowning yourself in the muck of this creature."

Terjal sat up, wiping his hands on the hem of his robe. "It would have been a risk worth taking if it had yielded anything important. Aiya...how is she?" Looking frantically at the place where she'd last been.

"Well, I'm still in this plane," came Aiya's weakened voice, hands patting herself randomly as if to assure her physical existence. Terjal looked up to see her supported between Strandholt and Arjas. "I must rest a moment only." Then, with an expression of mock sternness, she looked directly at Terjal. "Promise you'll not ask me to amplify your spell energy ever again."

Terjal gave her a grateful smile. "Nothing could be further from my wishes, the experience was as unpleasant for me."

"Did you learn anything from the mind delve?"

Terjal shook his head. "Nothing--not even a tiny scrap of information. The link between Creeping Lust and its creator must have been broken during the spell explosion at Grafter's hold. Also, I suspect that the direspawn's creator never fully had control over it to begin with: the mark of an amateur. Whoever he is, he won't be much of a threat without Grafter the Ageless, who must have been acting as his mentor."

Aiya's tired expression brightened a little. "Then...do you think we can consider this quest ended?"

Terjal smiled warmly at Aiya, then sighed deeply. It was true: his obligation toward Lord Vaukmond, Windemere, Quitonne--all of Ryndorhn, in fact--was now officially ended as far as hunting direspawn were concerned. He could think of only one more task to accomplish.

"Aiya," he said, taking her hands in his own, ignoring the surprised looks of his Blades. "Will you marry me?"

###

It would take only one more full day of riding to reach Windemere and Honor's Start. During this journey, Aiya considered the ramifications of Terjal's proposal as they rode along the recovering countryside, she once again at the reigns.

Of course she'd accepted, and somehow she knew that their quest would end with just such an overture from Terjal. Yet, she truly hadn't been prepared for the actual moment itself--the swift bluntness of it. And although she now considered Terjal's Blades her friends and comrades, she still wished they hadn't witnessed this intimate event: their eyes doubtless opened wide, jaws unhinged in surprise. Aiya could only blush warmly as Terjal stroked her hands, his eyes searching for the answer in her own. "The odd aspect of love," Terjal had told her then, "is that if someone has never experienced it, it is not missed. But having tasted it and then nearly losing it, by whatever action, the subject of that love, and the emotion surrounding it, becomes the most important passion in that person's life."

She couldn't agree more.

Of course, her answer had been "yes," though her tongue would not cooperate in giving a more creatively romantic answer. Her answer was simple, trembling and sibilant; she could have given herself a swift kick for mucking that one up!

As they continued to ride toward Windemere, Terjal remained quiet behind her, his arms circling her waist. She understood his silence was in deference to the thoughts he knew would be swimming in her mind--and she was ever grateful for this consideration. How many times did Terjal, as headmaster of Cloudreach, present his students with a problem to solve, then grant them the luxury of being alone with their thoughts?

And she had many things to contemplate! First among them: her position as Adjutant to Lord Vaukmond, an assignment she enjoyed greatly. She had come to learn, in her years of service, that the Duke was not so fearsome a ruler: that he was a fair man who must make many difficult decisions. She would also be lying to herself if she did not admit to feeling a great sense of satisfaction whenever she received admiration upon explaining her rank to others.

Also, she was not a romantically sentimental woman who dreamed of a future wedding day. In fact, such feminine things were never to her liking; perhaps growing up in a houseful of men had made her that way--and perhaps not. But if she had ever entertained any thought at all of marriage, it would have been a union with Terjal Rakmir--yet she never really imagined him even broaching such a subject. Nor did she ever deign to think herself the true object of his affection.

So she supposed she would return to Cloudreach again, this time as Mistress. But what would she do there? Would there be room for two teachers? Did she want to teach conjuring at all? Perhaps she could still retain some of her adjutant responsibilities, even if meant spell traveling to Honor's Start often.

But for all of the wonderings blazing her thoughts, she had a firm answer to only one question:

Did she love Terjal Rakmir?

Yes. She could easily shout that answer to all of Ryndorhn.

###

"So, Terjal Rakmir," said Lord Vaukmond, Duke of Windemere, a smile lifting his thick mustache, "you wish to take my Adjutant's hand in marriage? You shall have my blessing so long as the wedding takes place in Honor's Pavilion, and not at Quitonne or Cloudreach."

Terjal, with Aiya at his side, returned the Duke's smile in kind. "I can think of no better place for such a ceremony...in spite of its condition, that is."

Honor's Pavilion--indeed all of Honor's Start itself--had taken quite a beating from the envies, as had much of Windemere. As Terjal and his party had passed through Windemere's gates, no one greeted their arrival and the main thoroughfares were empty of people--many perhaps thinking the winged threat existed still. Everywhere lay evidence of sparring with the giant wasps: overturned carts, partially charred vending stalls and fallen bins, their contents tumbled and spoiling in the mid--afternoon air.

Honor's Start itself hadn't fared any better for its fortification. Mortar everywhere was chipped from swords and axes missing their marks. Elaborates vases, dashed from their pedestals during the tussling, still lay in shards upon the marbled floors. Blood, both envie and human, still stained the marble walls and floors.

Lord Vaukmond, standing before his throne, asked, "So, these direspawn have been routed--and their creator, you say he was destroyed as well?"

Terjal frowned as he nodded. "Grafter the Ageless was the primary spellcaster responsible for the first creature, White Rage. But the second creature had been summoned by Grafter's apprentice, who managed to escape. We were never able to discover his identity, but I strongly suspect that this spellcaster has lost much of his power and is of little threat."

Aiya added, "I will have agents sent to Quitonne and to the other lesser municipalities to search for this person--he shouldn't be as difficult to find as Grafter."

Lord Vaukmond nodded at his Adjutant. "I want them dispatched immediately." Then, smiling at Terjal again, added, "So, Master of Cloudreach, I hope that I will not be losing my Adjutant permanently. Besides yourself and Aiya, as you well know, I don't readily trust most purveyors of magic." Then, casting his gaze downward for a moment, the Duke continued, "As you doubtless see, I rely heavily upon Aiya's counsel."

"Then I will not deprive you of that counsel," Terjal answered, glancing sideways at Aiya, who was trying to suppress a smile. "So long as your Adjutant wishes to remain in your employ--at least on a part time basis."

Aiya bowed low before the Duke. "I would be honored to continue serving the Duke of Windemere as Adjutant." Then straightening, added, "So long as His Grace does not mind the occasional use of spell travel. It would seem I've spent an eternity in a saddle, and I do not wish to return so readily to it."

Lord Vaukmond grinned, his square white teeth showing through his dark beard. "So long as your husband promises to travel to Honor's Start by horse on occasion."

As they laughed at the Duke's jibe, Terjal thought to himself, At least not for a very long time.

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