A broken woman's true desire.

"Ceangail mi, dèan do chuid fhèin mi. Feuch, a Mhaighstir."

The man took a sip of his drink and calmly held the cup in one hand.  Before him, she knelt, broken, battered, miserable, muttering over and over, "Ceangail mi, dèan do chuid fhèin mi. Feuch, a Mhaighstir."   

'Could this be a trap?' He wondered as he looked around the tavern.  Some of the women were looking at the female kneeling at his feet, as if she were diseased, while other looked slightly jealous.  'No, it's not a trap.'   Dismissing the people around him, he glanced down at the woman.  Her very posture showed that she was distressed and only one thing could restore her wellbeing.  "What is it you want, woman?"  

She looked up at him through her tears and wild hair.  "Ceangail mi, guidheam ort, a Mhaighstir.  I can't do it any more."  Her voice was broken and he could tell that she literally on the knife's edge.  He continued to examine her, noticing that her dress was torn, but had once been something a beautiful free woman would have worn.  From what little he knew of fashion, it would have caused jealousy amongst other women.  Women who would have hated her and tried to bring her down.  

"You can't do what anymore?"  He took another sip of the meadhon, savoring the hint of honey tha sweetened the alcohol.   She whispered something that he couldn't quiet make out.  "You'll have to speak louder, little one.  I couldn't quiet hear what you said."

She buried her head in her hands, gulping down shallow breaths of air.  She was shaking as she lifted her head and looked up at him.  "I can't be a boireannach saor anymore."  She lifted a shaking hand and wiped at the tears that tracked down her face.  "It hurts so much."

'Ah," he thought. 'Now I understand.'  He kept silent as he reassessed her state.  The shaking that he had thought was anger turned out to be misery.  Even though he couldn't read her mind, he could discern her emotional state.  What he saw concerned him.  He hadn't seen a woman this miserable in ages.  He and the council had enacted laws that gave women like this one, a way out of their misery.  All they had to do was find a man who would bind them.  

"Tell me of your pain, pretty one."  He commanded.  

"Please, don't tease me, Mhaighstir.  I couldn't take it."  She hugged herself tightly.  When he reasserted his command, she dared to meet his eyes.  "They told me I could do anything I wanted.  They said that I could do anything a man could do.  They said I could carry a weapon and go out into the world."  She whimpered as she fell into her memories. 

"This was not what you wanted, was it?"  He inquired, drawing the darkness out of her, one word and phrase at a time.  

"No," she whispered. "I wanted to stay at home, I wanted to keep a house, I wanted to take care of children."  She spoke quickly, as if someone would hit her if she didn't get it out fast enough.  "I want to cook and clean.  I want to meet a strong man when he comes home at night and welcome him home with food, drink, and I...I want to dress like a tràille."  Her eyes widened in desire as she admitted what she wanted.  "I want to dance for my Mhaighstir. I want to make him happy.  I want him to take me and cleachd mi gus a mhiannan a shàsachadh."  

He watched the slow blush that marched across what he could see of her body as she gave voice to her deepest dreams.  Before him, her eyes lost their distress and dialted as her body responded to her desires.  

"What of the men here?  Will none of them ceangail riut?"  He glanced around the tavern again, judging the men that gathered around the tables.  'Of course not.' he thought to himself. 'They aren't men, they don't know how men act.  They've been domesticated.'    He reached out with his prana and shook his head. Not a single Mhaighstir among them..just the lost.  

The woman at his feet shook her head. "No Mhaighstir."  She shivered as she felt his masculine energy wash over her.  "Feuch an mhaighstir. Ceangail mi. ni mi seirbhis duit gu maith. bheir mi dhuit mi fein uile."  

"Yes, you will."  He promised, drawing a shiver of ecstacy and fear from the woman at his feet.  Without breaking eye contact, he placed the mug on the table and then gestured for her to come closer.  

She quickly crawled closer to him and sat back on her heels, straighening her body as she lifted her head.  She nervously brushed her hair over her shoulder and attempted to display herself to him.  'Please, don't let this be a trick.' 

"Not bad," he commented.  "In time, you'll learn how to display your true beauty."  He leaned toward her. "Now, What is your name, young one?"  

'What if he dosn't like my name?' she drew a slow breath. "It is Heather, if it pleases you, Mhaighstir."

"It'll do," he replied.  "Now repeat after me, 'I offer my body, my life, my soul, my very breath to you who are my Mhaighstir.  I will be obedient in all things and strive to be pleasing.  On Ananke's name do I so swear."  

As the full impact of his statement fell on her, she dutifully did as he commanded. "I offer my body, my life, my soul, my very breath to you, who are my mhaistir."  As she finished the ritual, she felt something crawling across the skin of her throat.  'What is this?'  she wondered as she intoned Ananke's name.  "Ohhhh," she moaned softly as she felt a deep sense of release from her stress.  "Am bheil mi ceangailte, a Mhaighstir?"  

"Yes, you are," The man replied as he stood up and placed the cup on the table.  

The woman watched as he rose to his full six foot tall height and she blushed slightly. She had expected him to be strong, as his prana suggested, but she hadn't expected this.  Sitting, he was unpredisposing.  Standing, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword, he was every bit the warrior he appeared to be.  His hazel eyes traveled her body and she again tried to appear beautliful for him.  

"Now, for your first task," he walked toward the bar.  "Follow me."  She quickly rose to her feet and followed him as he walked over and conversed with the owner.  "My good man, I would like two plates of food, a bottle of water, and two cups.  She will take them up to my room."  

The barkeep eyed the man, then nodded. "Aye,"  He glanced at the newly bound woman and grunted. "He's in room four upstairs. Go to the kitchen and get him what he ordered."  When the woman scurried into the kitchen, he turned back to the warrior. "She's had a hard month, friend.  I trust that you will...."

"Treat her as she needs to be treated."  The man replied.  "She is bound and the Lady Ananke won't condone mistreatments of those under her blessings."  The man turned and headed for the stairs, pausing briefly to look back at the owner.  "If you can spare it, I would like to borrow a maidservant's dress for her, at least until I can buy her new clothes tomorrow." 

The owner nodded. "I'll send Lucy up with a spare set."

The man nodded and climbed the stairs.   

'I hope I didn't make a mistake.' he mused as he opened the door to his room and stepped inside. 'After all, I didn't come looking for a bond.' A wry smile crossed his lips as he wondered what his other two bonds would say when he brought home a new woman.  Amelie would probably welcome her with open arms, and Nell, well Nell would be cold at first, but she'd warm up to this new woman.  

He was so used to travelling on his own, that he didn't even give it thought as he removed the chainmail armor and set it aside.  'Lady Ananke has never led me astray before.' he thought as he stared out the window, watching the sun set.  

He was pulled from his reverie when he heard a voice from the hallway. "Maighstir, I have your dinner.   My hands are full and I can't get the door."  With a grunt, he walked over and opened the door.  "Place the plates on the desk and come back here."  

The woman nodded and did as bidden.  After carefully placing the plates on the desk, she walked back over and stood in front of him.  "What is your will, Mo Maighstir?"  She fixed her eyes on the floor in front of her feet.  Now that she was alone with him, she was a little scared.  She nervously brought her hand up and traced the mark on her throat.  

"Heather," He said, drawing her attention.  When she looked up, he nodded. "The bath is through that door.  I want you to go clean up, then when you are done, we will eat."

"Yes, Maighstir," she whispered.  She drew a slow breath and continued. "but,  I don't have anything to change into."  

"Can't have that, can we?" He teased as he walked over to where his pack was laying at the side of the bed.  Digging around in the pack for a few minutes, he tossed her a folded bundle. "For now, put this on."  He didn't tell her that she'd have new clothes later.  If truth be told, he was curious as to how she'd look once she had bathed.  

She fumbled as she caught the folded bundle and slowly unfolded it.  In her hands, she held a silk shirt that fell to just above her knees.  Looking up at him, she blinked and then fled to the bath.  

"What am I going to do with her?" He wondered as he stared at the closed door.  He tilted his head silghtly to the left, as if he were hearing something on the wind. "You would find that amusing, wouldn't you, My Lady?" He inquired with a bemused shake of his head.  

He wasn't overly worried, as his goddess had never led him astray.  Each time he had doubted, she had proven herself by giving him wonderful and loving bonds.  Each had been hurt horribly and would have either died or killed themselves.  In the fullness of time, each had come to love him and both had become exceptional submissives.  

His musing was cut short by a soft knock at the door.  "Enter."  He commanded, after reaching out with his prana and finding a feminine energy standing outside the door.  The door was pushed open to reveal a young woman wearing a tavern maids outfit standing there.  In her hands, she held a folded bundle.  "May I help you?" He inquired, examing her from head to toe.  

The young woman gazed at him for a moment, before responding.  "Maighstir Brandyn sent me up with something for your bond to wear."  

He couldn't decide whether she was angry or jealous, or maybe a bit of both.  'What is this about?' he wondered as she took a tentative step into the room.  "Oh, the dress, right.  She through that door." He stated, gesturing toward the bath room door.  "She might need some help."  

"Of course, Maighstir," she commented with a nod, then quietly padded to the door and softly pushed it open. "It's Lucy, sister.  Maighstir sent me in to help you bathe and dress."  There was a softly spoken answer and she passed through the door and closed it behind her.

A short while later, the tavern maid stepped back into the room. "Your bond will out in a bit.  She's got a bad case of the nerves."  

'There's that anger again.  I wonder....'  Before she could leave the room, he stopped her.  "Enough of this, little one."  He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor at his feet.  For a brief instant, she glared at him, then she gracefully sank to her knees and placed her palms down on her thighs.  She looked down at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.  "What is wrong?"  

"Nothing," she snapped, then raised a hand to wipe away a tear.  "I'm sorry," she muttered, "but your bond has gotten what I've wanted for the last five years."  When she looked up, he gestured for her to continue.  "I've been working here for five years, and I desperately want to give my bond to Maighstir Brandyn."  She drew in a soft breath. "He either doesn't notice, or he doesn't want me."  

"Ah," He nodded.  "I understand.  Have either of you approached a servant of the chains and asked for their help?"  

"No sir," she whispered. "There are no servants of the chains here.  You are the first we've seen in several years."  

'I'm not a Chain-maker,' he thought to himself as he watched her.  There was that amused laughter in the air. 'As you wish, my lady.' he directed toward that laughter. "When I come down later, I'll talk to your Maighstir Brandyn and see if he wants to bond you." He reached out and brushed his fingers through her hair.  "It seems as if my lady wants me to do her work."  

The Tavern Maid gave him a grateful smile as she rose to her feet and almost ran for the door.

'What's with the women in this town?' He wondered as he stared at the closed door and listened to the Tavern maid as she ran down the hallway.  'Are they all miserable, or....?' He was pulled from his musing as the bathroom door opened.

For a moment, there was absolute silence, then his new bond spoke. "Maighstir, seo mi."  He turned to find Heather standing in the doorway of the bathroom, nervously brushing her hands down the short thigh length skirt that did little to cover her long legs that were covered in long black stockings.  His eyes moved upwards to the deep scooped blouse that accentuated her form.  She had a heart-shaped face framed by dirty blonde hair that fell over her shoulders, but it was her brown eyes that held his.  In those eyes, he could see the question, 'Do I meet your approval?  Am I pretty?" 

"Ohhh, milis.  Tha thu breagha." He whispered.  The change in her was beyond description, it was almost as if 'The moon came out from behind a cloud.' He thought as he gestured for her to come to his side.  

There was the hint of a smile as she gracefully made her way across the room and knelt at his feet.   As if finding her courage, her voice lightened and she almost sang, "Does Maighstir find me pleasing?"  

"By Lady Ananke, I do."  His lips curled in a smile. "Do you feel better?"  

Caught by surprise, she froze for a moment, then timidly answered, "Yes, Maighstir, I do." She tilted her head slightly to the left and brushed her fingers through her hair, starting at the back of head and moving down to the tips.  "It's most strange.  I feel as if a great weight has lifted from me."  

He nodded as he listened to her.  'Yes, Ananke has blessed her indeed.'  Leaving her where she knelt, he moved to the small table in the far side of the small room.  "Heather, come here." 'Let's see how clever she really is.' he thought as he watched her.  

'Am I being tested?' She wondered as she watched her new Maighstir.  Her eyes went from his to the table by the door, where she had left the two plates, two cups, and the flagon of meadhon.  'He had me bring these up, but he's sitting over there.  Is he still hungry?  Is he thirsty?' It only took her an instant to access that he was hungry and thirsty, and 'He wants me to serve him.'  She blushed faintly as she gracefully rose to her feet and retrieved the meal, first the plates of meat, bread, and cheese, then the cups and flagon, before carrying each to the table in front of him.  

Once there, she seperated the plates, set one in front of him, with hers off of to the side, before placing one cup by his plate, the other set beside her plate.  Then, picking up his plate, the flagon and cup, she held them carefully in her hands as she sank to her knees.  "Am faod a’ chaileag thràilleil seo biadh is deoch a thabhann dhut, a mhaighstir?"  At his nod, she carefully sat the flagon and cup on the floor beside her and held the plate in one hand while she removed the thin square of cotan that covered the food on the plate.  After taking a slow deep breath, she held the plate in both hands and lifted it up in offering.  "An truinnsear agad, a mhaighstir." She whispered as she waited for him to take the plate.  When he took the plate and sat it on the table, she took the flagon in her left hand and used it to fill the cup that she had picked up from the floor with her right hand.  "Do chupa o meadhon, maighstir."  She lifted the cup and waited for him to take it.  When his fingers brushed hers, she blushed faintly in delight.  

"You did well," he complimented her as he placed the cup on the table.  Taking a piece of the meat, he broke off a piece and offered it to her.  "Air do shon, mo nighean bhrèagha thràill."  

A deep sense of contentment overcame her as she took the piece of meat and took a bite.  She waited until he gestured to the table, before rising and taking the seat next to him.  "Is this what it's going to be like, being your caileag thràilleil?"  

"Yes," he admitted.  "Lady Ananke wouldn't decieve you.  She knew that you were miserable and that changing your life would make you content..happy, maybe."  

"Does maighstir have a name?" She inquired as she took a bite of the cheese.

"He does indeed," He chuckled.  "Is e m’ ainm Balgair."  He took another bite of the food as he watched her.  

"May I call you Maighstir Balgair?" She asked, meeting his gaze.

"Of course, you may."  He poured her a half-cup of the meadhon, then handed her the cup. "Take your time eating.  We've got a bit of time."

"Until what, Maighstir Balgair?"

With a soft sigh, he leaned back in his chair.  "Until I do my Lady's work and make the young tavern maiden a happy woman."  

Balgair and Heather took their time eating, with her eyes continiously watching him, lest she miss something.  

"Shhh, calm down." He commented as he caught her watching him.  "If I need something, I'll tell you." He reached across the table and cupped her chin. "If you worry about it all the time, you'll just wear yourself out, then how good would you be?"  

She blew out a slow breath and relaxed against his palm, even turning her head to nuzzle.  "I didn't know how you wanted me to behave."  She picked up her cup and shook it. "May I have more Meadhon, please Maighstir?"  

He nodded and poured her another half-cup.  "Take it slow.  I know it tastes sweet, but if you aren't careful, you'll get drunk."  He withdrew his hand, hearing her soft whimper of disappointment.  When he was finished with his meal, he pushed the plate away and leaned back in his chair.

Heather eyed his plate, seeing that he'd only eaten half of his meal.  Her own was not even half-eaten.  "Have you had enough, Maighstir?"  She inquired as she reached for the thin squares of Cotan.  When he nodded, she consolidated the food onto one plate and covered that plate.  'We should have enough left for breakfast and maybe even lunch.' She judged.  

Balgair hid a yawn behind his right hand and covertly watched Heather as she seemed to stare into the distance.  

'What should I do now?' Heather wondered as she looked around.  'It's not right to do nothing.'  Her eyes fell upon his pack and without even glancing at him, she slid out of the chair and walked over to the side of the bed.  Dropping to her knees, she unfastened the pack and reached inside, carefully taking out what was nestled inside.  First came two bundles of clothes, which she set aside on the bed.  Next out was a leather pouch that jingled. Her ears perked up, 'Money?' She quickly pulled that bag closer to her and slid it between her thighs.  'It wouldn't do to have this stolen.' she thought as she reached inside the pack again.  She pulled out several daggers and other bags, which she carefully set back into the pack.  When she was finished, she looked at the two bundles on the bed and then slowly rose to her feet, gathering the bag of money off of the floor. 

Slipping the bag between the two layers of clothing, she slid them into a drawer that was built into the bedside table.  Feeling somewhat better, she turned to find her Maighstir watching her through half-closed eyes.  

Balgair nodded at her, "You're learning." He crooked his finger and watched as she moved back to where he sat. When he pointed down, she sank back to her knees and leaned toward him.  

"You aren't a priest, are you?" She inquired.  

"No, I'm not a Sagart a Ananke.' He confirmed her suspicion.  "Based on what you found in my pack, what do you think I do for a living?"  He watched the expression on her face as she thought it over.

"I think that you are a soldier of some sort, Maighstir." She finally said, gesturing toward his chain shirt and leather gambeson that were folded over one of the chairs.  "But you don't serve a church or a king."  When he raised a brow, she continued. "I don't see a sigil or coat of arms." 'But then I wouldn't, this far inside the Saorsa.'  

The soldier grinned. "Correct. I am a mercenary and I'm a member of the Black Hills Company." 

She froze for a moment. "But you have a saor-shealbh of your own, don't you?"  She started thinking that she'd bonded herself to a landless man.  

Balgair laughed and thumped his hand on his leg. "Yes, I have a saor-shealbh of my own.  It's not very big, but it's big enough for myself and my other two bonds."  

The casual admission that he did have other women caused a tinge of jealousy and not a little bit of fear. 'Silly girl, of course he's got more than one woman.  He's a strong man.'  She hid a tear by covertly wiping her eye with a fingertip.  'Why would I think that he'd be just for me?'  When he reached out and pulled her to his side, she leaned against him.  

"It's okay, mo tè bhòidheach." He whispered as he shifted slightly, pulling her into his lap. "You'll like Amelle and Nell.  In no time, you'll be a part of our teaghlach."  

For a moment, she sat rigidly in his lap, trying to figure out of she were hurt or angry or disappointed.  In the end, she gave up and slowly relaxed in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh.  "Maighstir Balgair, what did you mean when you said that you were going to make Lucy happy?" 

The Mercenary closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the woman in his arms and enjoying the feel of her breath against his throat.  "It would seem that the lovely Tavern Maiden wants to be bound to the  maighstir taigh-òsta, but doesn't know if he wants her."  When she exhaled in surprise, he chuckled.  "Lady Ananke finds it amusing but wants me to investigate and bind them together, if they both wish it." 

Heather lifted her head and looked into his eyes.  "Truly?  I have seen the way Lucy looks at Maighstir Brandyn."  She quirked a brow. "I should have quessed that she wanted his bond."  When she saw the amused smile on his face, she blushed slightly. "What is it, Maighstir Balgair?"

"How easily you have called another man Maighstir." He commented.

She pursed her lips, her tongue flicking out to whet those lips. "Should I not?  I am your nighean tràillean ceangailte, am I not?"  When he nodded, she took a breath, then nodded to herself. "If so, then all men are now Maighstirean."  She absently brushed her fingers through her hair. "It is only right that I address them as such." She looked to him for confirmation and when he nodded, she smiled, pleased. "When are we due downstairs, Maighstir?"

Balgair sighed softly, amazed that she had so easily accepted her condition.  "Probably right about now."  He reluctantly let go of her and growled softly under his breath as she slid off of his lap and stood in front of him.  "We should also take our dirty dishware to kitchen."  

"Yes, Maighstir," she replied and reached out for the dirty cups and the one plate that they didn't need any longer.  When she was ready, she looked over her shoulder as she walked over to the door. "Would maighstir please get the door?"  

"Yes, of course," He replied as he openee the door for her, then led the way down the stairs and into the common room.  While she disappeared into the kitchen, he looked around for the maighstir taigh-òsta, finding him behind the bar.  'If you think it's funny that Lucy wants him, then you should find what's to come a divine comedy.' He directed to the Lady of Chains.  

Taking a cleansing breath, he walked over to the bar and leaned against it. "Maighstir taigh-òsta, taigh-osta Maighdeann."  

The young woman bowed her head, hiding her blush as she whispered, "Maighstir."

The Man behind the bar quirked a brow. "Yes?"

That was what Balgair had been waiting for and he took advantage of it. "Brandyn, my friend."  The quirked brow rose another fraction of an inch.  "Have you ever considered the advantages of having a tràillean ceangailte?"

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm being set up for an ambush?" The Tavern Owner muttered. "But yes, I have occassionally considered such a thing." 'I'm going to hate myself for asking this,' he thought. "But, as of yet, I have not come across a woman that wishes to be bound."  He glanced over at Heather, noticing the blush crawling down her neck.  "Might you know of such a woman?"  

Before Balgair could answer, Heather appeared at his side and sank to her knees with a soft "What you wished, has been done, Maighstir."  

"Tapadh leat," He replied, then turned his attention back to Brandyn, at least that was his intent.  

Instead, what happened was that he heard four sets of footsteps stop behind him and he heard a harsh voice.  "Thu strìopach gòrach."

It was right about then that the binding took effect and Balgair blinked as he felt the spike of fear that shot through Heather's body.  He turned to find her with her head pressed against the floor, as if she were trying to completely disappear.  

The source of her fear was standing behind her.  The brute looked to be about five and a half foot tall.  His grey eyes bored into the woman. "I'm talking to you, galla."  He poked at her with his right foot.  

Balgair quirked a brow as he turned to the brute.  "You will stop that."  He commented, his voice chilled.  

"Or what?" the Brute smirked as he poked at Heather again.  "If you wanted to be Traille, I could have collared you like the Galla you are."  

Balgair rose to his full height and eyed brute. "If you do not stop that, I will make you."  He was careful not to make an overt threat, even while hoping that the brute would figure it out.  

The Brute laughed, "Har, ye're a funny one, stranger."  He used a bit more force this time, knocking Heather off balance.  "You don't have the bàlaichean to...." He cursed as Balgair's uppercut made his bite his tongue.  

"Mathan, You've had enough.  It's time to leave." Brandyn said as he reached for the Axe that hung over the bar.  "There's not a sane woman that will have anything to do with you.  Not after what happened to the last three."  

"I did nuthin' and you don' have proof that I did."  The brute slurred as he checked to make sure his tongue wasn't sliced open.  "And you, Boyo," he said, facing Balgair. "You just made your last mistake."

"Hold on," Balgair commanded, glancing over at the Tavern Master.  "Last three?  What happened?"  He inquired.  

Brandyn shrugged, "Three different women were collared by this person, and all three died within weeks."  

Balgair blinked then glanced down at Heather. \Listen close, little one,\ he directed through the newly formed bond. "Sit up and show this person your mark."  He felt her reach out through the bond, as if searching for him.  With a mental nod, he reached out and covered her fright with his prana.  She seemed to test his prana for a moment, then slowly and deliberately returned to her knees and straightened her back as she lifted her head, displaying the mark that Ananke had put on her skin.  

"Oh ho," the brute chuckled. "Since she's tràill ceangailte, that means that we can sample the wares, ye?"  He crudely commented.

"No,"  the soldier replied. "You will take her over my dead body."  

"If that's what it takes, stranger."  Mathan smirked. "I challenge you for the tràill ceangailte.  If I win, she's mine."  

"Your challenge is accepted." Balgair commented.  "But I won't lose.  Besides if I do, then Lady Ananke will void my bond and free her."  

"Done." Mathan chuckled.  "Let's go, boyo."

"Let's take this outside." Balgair met the brute's gaze.  "I'll be out in five minutes.  That should give a coward like you enough time to set up your little ambush."  He watched as the brute stomped out the door.  "Well, well, my beauty.  You do know how to pick them."  He shook his head, "Go upstairs and get my shield and chain shirt.  Bring it back down here."  He smiled as Heather shot to her feet and almost ran for the stair.  "Slow it down, girl.  I've got five minutes."  

When she started up the stairs, Balgair turned to Brandyn.  "If this brute has killed three women, why hasn't he been arrested?"

The Tavern Owner shook his head. "We don't have a law enforcer here, and none of are strong enough to beat him."  He looked Balgair over.  "Maybe you will be the one to beat him."  He leaned against the bar, "And when you do beat him, I'll discuss Lucy's wellbeing with you."

Balgair was mentally counting down the minutes and almost chuckled when he heard something crash heavily on the floor above.  

"Help!" They heard, and Brandyn glanced over at Lucy. 

"Go help her."  Without a word, Lucy ran up the stairs.  A few minutes later, both women were trying not to stumble down the stairs.  Lucy was trying to adjust her grip on a kite shield  that was almost larger than she was, and poor Heather was wrapped in chain, with his armor draped over her shoulders and around her chest.

"How do you carry this, Maighstir?" She huffed as she collapsed at his feet.  "This is heavy."

The other woman appraised the soldier. "I didn't realize how strong you were," she whispered as she too sank down to her knees and braced the shield against her chest.  

The Tavern owner chuckled as he reached over the bar and lifted the shield in a one handed grasp.  "I've got it, girl."  He commented as he set the shield on the bar.  

"I don't carry it wrapped around me," Balgair chuckled as he leaned down and started unwrapping the chainmail from Heather.  When he accidentally brushed his fingers against the underside of her breasts, her surprised gasp, followed by a low moan, caused him to glance at her.  The slow blush that crawled down her throat only backed up what his bond was feeling.  "I wear it like this," he explained as he lifted the armor off of her and then slipped into it, settling it over his shoulders.  "The weight of the chain is distributed across my body, starting with the shoulders, and down around my hips."  He explained as he switched his sword belt from his waist and then reset it atop the armor.  He reached down and caressed her cheek, smiling when she turned her head slightly and kissed his palm.  

He turned his head slightly as he heard Brandyn mutter, "I didn't know that you were a eala dhubh."  The Tavern Master lifted the shield and handed it to Balgair, who arched a brow.  "You didn't pay much attention to the sign outside, did you?"  When the soldier shook his head, the Tavern Master pointed behind him at the Tavern's logo.  

"Interesting," Balgair commented as he saw it. The tavern's logo, much like the sigil on his shield, was a stylized black swan with four bars under the Swan.  "When did you serve?"

Brandyn shrugged, "About fifteen years ago."  He carefully wiped the front of the shield.  "How is Maighstir Darkblade doing?"  

"I doubt he's changed since you knew him." Balgair stated.  "He's got a new bond named Flur and two caid-ghin who used to be Queens hanging around him."  

"That's a big change," Brandyn muttered, "When I was a black swan, he had just bonded with...what was her name? Rowena."  He gave it some thought, "Yes, that was her name."  

"She's still there, and yes, I can imagine things have changed since then."  He sighed. "Speaking of changes.  It's just about time."  He casually brushed his fingertips across Heather's lips.  "Stay here.  I'll be back shortly."  

The boireannach ceangailte pursed her lips and kissed his thumb, then playfully took a nibble.  "Be careful Maighstir.  I just found you and I don't want to lose you."  She whispered, looking down.  

Balgair smiled.  "I wouldn't dare.  Nell would pay someone to bring me back and then Amelle would geld me." He teased.  "I have no intention of allowing a weak brutish man beat me."  When she looked up and gave him a half-smile, he turned and hefted his shield.  "Watch her, would you?"  He directed toward Brandyn.  When the Tavern Master nodded, the Black Swan took a slow breath then headed toward the door.

Once outside, he paused to look for his opponents, quickly finding the Brute and one of the others.  The brute was standing in street, holding a spiked club.  The other was just barely visible, hiding behind a corner of a building, with a crossbow in his hands.  'Just about what I figured,' Balgair thought to himself as he angled the shield toward the crossbowman.  'Do I let him take a shot, or do I put an end to him first?' he wondered.  

"Lookie, there's the funny one," the brute snickered as Balgair stepped out onto the street.  He paused and closely examined the shield.  "Well, well, this should be fun.  I've never killed a black swan before."  

"And you won't this time," Balgair replied. 'Hopefully.' he added silently.  "I'd ask if this were a fair fight, except that I've already found your hidden assassin."  He proved his point by quickly drawing a dagger from his belt and sending it flying toward the crossbowman, where it stuck in the wood about an inch from his face.  

The Brute looked him over. "It looks like you missed."  He commented with a smirk.

'I wasn't trying to hit him, you dumb ass.' Balgair thought.  Instead of saying  anything, he drew his arming sword and advanced towards the brute.  'Just you wait.  I'm not going to waste my energy, I'm just going to dismantle you, one joint at a time.'  He stopped four feet from the brute. "Let's go, you degenerate.  I've got better things to do than play with you all day."  

"Do you now?' The Brute asked as he lifted his club and stepped toward the soldier.  "Fine, let's get this overwith.  The sooner I kill you, the sooner I can enjoy the body of that little whore."  

If he thought that would make Balgair do something stupid, he was in for a disappointment.  The soldier braced himself, got ready, and without warning, leapt at the brute, starting his attack with a straight in thrust to the chest. 

The Brute cursed as he attempted to back away from the soldier.  He just barely managed to slam the sword aside with his club.  

'There it is,' Balgair thought as he heard the twang of the crossbow as the assassin fired.  Instinctevly,  he moved the shield to his left and heard the impact as the bolt hit the edge of the piece of armor.  

Instead of moving back from the brute, he stepped forward, slashing a diagnal line from the man's waist up to his shoulder, cutting through part of the man's leather armor.  

"Damn you, boyo.  Now I'm going ta kill you," the brute said as he stepped back and traced the line with a finger.  "I've heard that sluts love scars.  Maybe yours will love mine."  He taunted.

'As if I'm going to fall for that,' Balgair reminded himself.  Once again, he refrained from saying a word as he set about cutting the brute apart.

For the next ten minutes, he methodically tore the brute apart, first removing the hand that held his club, then moving up to remove the lower arm.  He took a step back and blocked another shot from the assassin. 'You're next,' he promised as he once again advanced on the brute.  His next attack removed four fingers from the opposite hand, along with the club it held.  Then as the brute attempted to retreat, Balgair slowly and surely finished him off, the final strike taking the brute's head from his shoulders.  

Seeing his boss fall, the assassin turned and attempted to run, only to recieve a well thrown dagger in his back.  The assassin looked up, screaming as an armed citizen cut his throat with a rusty knife.  

With the fight over, Balgair turned and walked back to the tavern.  

Balgair heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the porch and approached the door.  "That could have been worse," he muttered as he reached up and pushed the door open.  He didn't expect the scene of choas that greeted him.  All around him, there were people who looked as if the'd been tossed like childrens toys.  Instinctively, he brought his shield up in front of him and looked around.  'What the hell happened here?' he wondered as he examined the people. 'Are they all dead?' he wondered as he looked around.  He sighed softly as he saw that most of them were breathing.  

Tentatively, he padded across the main room, looking for Brandyn, Lucy, and Heather.  A soft groan led him to where Brandyn was slumped over behind the bar, where it looked like he had tried to protect Lucy.  The tavern maiden was half covered by the big man's body and Balgair was glad to discover that she was alive.  He set his shield aside and checked the Tavern owner over for wounds, drawing another groan from the big man.  

"By the Diathan," Brandyn groaned as he cracked open an eye and took a swing at the shadow hovering over him.  

"Woah...hold on, it's Balgair." The soldier commented as he leaned back away from the balled up fist. 

"Sorry," Brandyn muttered as he tried to sit up.  "All I could see was a big shadow." He explained as he half turned and leaned back against the bar.  "Did you kill him?"

"I did," Balgair replied, watching as Brandyn gathered Lucy in his arms and cradled her close.  "What happened in here?"  

"I dunno," was the reply.  "The last I remember, it got dark, there were screams, and all I could think of was protecting Lucy."  He gazed down at the woman in his arms.  

"Is she...?" Balgair asked.  When the Tavern Master checked her pulse, and nodded, Balgair sighed in relief.  "Thank the gods."  

"What about your girl?" Brandyn inquired as he tried to focus.  

"I don't know," Balgair admitted.  "I don't see her anywhere."  

There was a low moan of pain and both men looked down to see Lucy shaking her head.  "She's gone.  The last thing I saw before blacking out was one of Dingus' men dragging her out the back door."  She coughed, even as she reached up and carressed Brandyn's cheek. "You big fool.  You do care, don't you?"  When the big man admitted that he did, and had for a while, she smiled.  "Enough to bind me?"  

Balgair closed his eyes as he listened to the two bantering.  Fighting down his concern, he centered himself and reached out through the bond that Ananke had created between master and boireannach ceangailte. 'Don't let her be dead,' he prayed as he searched for Heather.  A look of relief crossed his face as he found her, and she was indeed alive.  'Let's see if this works,' he thought as he reached out to her.  Heather?

For a moment, there was no reply, then he got the sense that she heard him, but didn't know who it was.  If he had to put a picture to what he was feeling, it would be her peeking out the window of a house.  Is that you Maighstir?

He projected his pride in her skepticism.  Of course it's me.  He replied, then blinked as he felt her contentment that the man who loved her would look for her.  He couldn't help but tease her.  Isn't it a little soon to be thinking about love?  Then when he felt her disappointment, he continued. We've only known each other for about five hours, more or less.  

You're right, Maighstir.  It's just that what I'm feeling is love, isn't it?  She asked as if from a great distance.  I miss you terribly, and I'm a little scared, but I know you'll find me.  

Speaking of which, do you know where you are?  

No, Maighstir.  I'm blindfolded and there is rope wrapped around me.  She answered timidly.   It's cold and I can hear rats around me.  It smells somewhat musty.  Do you think you can find me?

I know it's going to sound trite, but think good thoughts. He replied as he used the link provided by Ananke to track Heather. 'Interesting,' he thought to himself, 'I can almost see her.' Then he blinked again as her soul started ringing like a bell. Are you okay, Heather?

He could almost hear her humming. Of course, Maighstir Balgair. I just felt as if you touched me, and it made me so happy that I wanted to sing. The ringing seemed to dimish. Should I stop, Maighstir?

He wanted so badly to enfold her in a tender hug. No, don't stop. You are singing so loud that I can hear you. It's making it easier to find you. Almost instantly, the ringing increased in volume, until he felt he could find her, just by following her lead. That's a girl, he praised her. He opened his eyes to see if he could still hear the ringing sound, and when he determined that he could, he hefted his shield and rose to his feet. “I'll be back shortly, Brandyn. I'm going to go retrieve Heather.” 

The Tavern Master quirked a brow. “How?”

Balgair grinned. “Lady Ananke's gift. I'll explain it when I get back.”

“Be careful Maighstir,” Lucy whispered as she slowly regained consciousness. She burrowed into Brandyn's chest and sighed happily. “I've dreamt about you holding me, Maighstir Brandyn, and to think, all it took was getting knocked out by a hedge wizard.” 

“Shhh,” Brandyn uttered. “You better watch it, I just might think you want to be spanked.”

The Tavern Maiden blushed, “Do you promise, Maighstir?” She quipped. Then beamed in happiness as he nodded. 

“I think you'll have your hands full,” Balgair commented. “You have until I get back to change your mind. If you don't, I'll bind her to you for life.” 

Brandyn chucked, “Get out of here, black swan. Go find your girl.” 

Knowing that Balgair was going to save her, calmed Heather a bit. She explored the newfound bond for a moment, savoring that she could feel him. It was so tightly bound to her that she could almost hear his heart beating along with her. That alone made her almost want to dance. And just like that, she went from shaking in fear, to utter calm.

“Well, Dearie, what's changed here?' The hedge-mage's voice came from the imposed darkness. “Have you lost your fear?”

Unable to respond, Heather turned her head in the direction of the voice and lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug.

“What's a matter, Katze got your tongue?” Then the mage laughed softly as Heather shook her head. “Ah, that's right. You can't talk.” There was a warmth around Heather's mouth, and the mage muttered. “Now you can talk.”

Heather tested the mage's word by moving her mouth and whispering. “No, the Katze doesn't have my tongue.”

“Good, good,” the other said. “Now, what's changed? Why are you no longer afraid?”

Heather carefully considered what she should say, before she replied. “Because my maighstir is coming to find me.”

The mage chuckled. “How do you know? You've only been bannaichte for about what five Uran?”

Heather shrugged. “Maighstir said it was Lady Ananke's will. She won't allow the bound to be hurt.”

She sounded so sure that the mage laughed. “Silly caileag, Ananke's mark only provides protection from excessive harm from those bound.” The dark robed wizard eyed her, “It won't stop me from doing what I want to you.” He was silent for a moment, “I intend to give your soul to the creeping chaos. Once he's devoured you, you will never be reborn.”

Heather trembled. “Only A' Mhàthair can remove us from the great wheel.” She stated with absolute belief. “Any other may only kill me.”

“Oh, so you believe that, do you?” The mage cackled. “You are in for a surprise.” He allowed her to sit in silence, letting her think that over. “The creeping chaos devours all, none escape his ravenous hunger. Not even Mathair nan Coille can save this world.”

Heather was glad that her eyes were covered, because she really didn't want to see the look on the mage's face. 'Please Maighstir Balgair, come and save me.'.

Balgair was in the process of tracking her down, when he the fear slowly rising through the link. Come on, little one, don't give in to fear. I'm on my way. He sent through the link. 

For a long minute, there was no response at all, then a subdued reply. I know that you'll do your best. She paused. Have you ever heard of the creeping Chaos? She inquired finally.

Creeping Chaos? Balgair stopped moving as he carefully asked, Where did you hear that term? 

     She didn't answer for a few minutes, which had him a bit worried, but when she replied, she did matter-of-factly. The Creeping Chaos is all that this mage has bragged about for the last five mineaden. How the Creeping chaos will devour my soul and keep me from being reborn. How not even Mathair Nan Coille can save me. He could almost hear the fear tinging her last statement. Maighstir, I'm scared. Is that true? Can anyone steal my soul? When he didn't immediately answer, she projected a nod. Maighstir? 
 

     I don't know. Balgair admitted. The draoidhean would say that only a' mhàthair can deny a soul rebirth. Well, that's not going to stop me from saving you. Sing loudly for me mo nighean bhòidheach thràillean, I'm coming for you. What he received for his simple statement was a projection of her throwing herself into his arms and holding him tight, then her spirit lifted its voice loudly in praise, leading him down the street and into a shadowy alley, to a ramshackle door set into the side of a building. 

     He spent the next few minutes examing the building, as he wondered how many people were within, and how many of them would protect the mageling to had kidnapped his bond. Finally, he muttered, “To ifrinn with it.” Settling his shield firmly in front of him, he stepped toward the door and raised his left hand and knocked.

     “Who be it?” A voice called from inside. “What business have ye?” 

     How do I answer that? He wondered, then shrugged. “I am a eala dhubh, I've tracked a criminal to this place. Open up in the name of the law.” 

     “Eala Dhubh, you say?” The voice inquired. “There ain't no law in this town. Be ye gone.” 

     “I am Captain Balgair Moeldr of the Eala dhubh. Where we go, law follows, thus speaks the council of the Saorca.” He took a half step back and calmly drew his sword. “Open up. I'm coming in, no matter what.” 

    “I'd like to see you tryyaaaa.” The person inside sounded shocked as the blade was thrust through the door and half-way through his chest. By the time Balgair raised his leg, delivered a strong side kick that knocked the door open and sent the dying person flying backwards. 

     So much for a quiet entry. Balgair thought as he raced through the door and finished off the middle aged man. Up or down, my little one? Her answering song lead him down the hallway, past two more doors. Keep singing, my dear. As he approached the next door, it opened and a scantily clad woman froze as she saw him. “Shhh.” He shook his head. “Either get back inside that room, or run out the front door.” He warned her. “Where is the mageling?” He didn't really expect her to answer, and was mildly surprised when she pointed to a door at the end of the hallway.

     “She's down there. She lives in the basement.” She whispered, before retreating back into her room. 

     'Well, that's a start,' Balgair took a deep breath and advanced down the corridor. His eyes fixed on each door as he approached and sighed in relief as each remained closed, their occupants choosing to leave him alone. 'This could be so much worse.' 

     Just when he thought that most of the residents of the building would leave him alone, the next door opened and a cloaked person stepped into the hallway. “I'm guessing you killed Earl.” 

     “Earl? Do you mean the door warden?” When the man nodded, Balgair admitted, “Yes, he refused me entry.” He watched as the man reached into his cloak and drew two daggers from his belt. “Let me guess, you are going to stop me.”

     “I have to,” the man stated. “If I don't try, then my soul will be devoured.” He fell into an easy guard position, one dagger chest level, the other lower, angled up. 

     Balgair shook his head. “Can I dissuade you?” The man just gave him a look that promised death. “Very well, let's have at it.” The Black Swan fell into his own ready stance, with his shield held slightly in front of him, and lowered his center of gravity by bending his knees. Then, without giving the man any warning, he danced forward, extending his shield in a straight bash to the other's chest. 

     Caught by surprise, the cloaked man danced back a half-step. He paused a second to reassess the mercenary, then just as quickly lunged forward, aiming to get past the shield. Balgair followed his move, keeping the shield facing his opponent. The man turned his lunge into a forward roll that sent him past the soldier. As he regained his feet and turned to face Balgair, he offered a half-salute. “Not bad.” He commented as he shifted to another stance. 

     Balgair watched as the man brought the daggers in closer to his body and crossed them over his chest. Then it was his turn to attempt to withdraw as the man kicked off of the ground and leapt at him, flashing his right foot out in a snap kick that rang off of the shield. As he was pushed back, Balgair tried to brace himself, only to have to withdraw again as his opponent snapped one of the daggers toward Balgair's right foot, then another to his left foot. 

     'Not your typical brute.' Balgair shifted to the left as the man used his shield to vault over his head. 'Yeah, this could be trouble.' He managed to complete the turn and block the followup thrust of another dagger that would have skewered his kidneys. 'I might be over my head here.' With a grunt, he slammed the shield into the man's chest, sending him sliding backwards. That gave him just enough space to pull his own arming sword and snap it forward, aiming for the man's chest. “I'm starting to think that you aren't a common crook.” 

     “You might be right,” the man replied as he reversed his grip on the dagger in his right hand and used it to block the thrust of the sword, diverting it to the left. “You aren't just some common mercenary either.” 

    “'s dòcha,” Balgair twisted his wrist, and turned the thrust into a right slash, that was again blocked by the stranger. 'If this keeps up, it's going to bring others to his aid.' With a growl, he lunged forward, using the shield to shove his opponent further into the hallway. 'Can't let this stop me.' 

      They went back and forth for several minutes, neither able to get an upper hand on the other. “Hmmm.” The cloaked man clucked his tongue. “How long can you keep this up, Merc?” He took another faux hit and rolled back, coming to his feet as he reached for something leaning against the wall. “Not many people get to see this,” He commented as he shrugged out of the cloak, revealing a light leather vest that covered his chest,sides, and back. The black leather seemed to devour the light.

     'Is that Iron-leaf leather?' Balgair wondered as he reassessed the man. With the cloak gone, the stranger pulled an arming sword from the sheath, holding the sword in one hand and the sheath in the other.

     The man settled into a new stance, knees slightly bent, one foot slightly behind the other, with the sword held out before him, while the sheath was angled slightly downwards. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Indigo Yarsmith, you killed my father.” When Balgair raised his left brow in confusion, Yarsmith laughed. “No, not really, but it sounded good.” Then without warning, he lunged, angling the sword downwards, even as he dipped the sheath underneath Balgair's shield and attempted to push it up out of the way of his sword.

     “I don't think so,” the Black Swan stated as he intercepted the arming sword with his own sword and attempted to lock it up. “I wasn't recruited yesterday.”

     “I can tell,” Yarsmith grunted as he pushed forward, again trying to slip around the shield. “You're becoming quiet the challenge.” He ducked down and kicked the center of Balgair's shield, pushing him back as he disengaged and slowly retreated down the hallway. He pursed his lips and whistled, bringing three more people into the hallway.

     Balgair's eyes widened slightly as he saw that one of the men was carrying a maul, while the other two held hand crossbows. 'Well, crap,' the black swan thought as he quickly assessed the danger. He put Yarsmith as the prime danger, with the maul wielder being next, and the two crossbowmen being next. As long as he could block the bolts, he thought he'd be okay.

     “No offense, stranger, but I just had to call some friends out to play.” Yarsmith called out as he stepped off to the left, opening up some space for the maul wielder and crossbowmen.