To Find An Evil...

Meravyel clutched the wooden chest until her knuckles turned white. She didn't understand the rage she felt over the child. Why should she risk her life, perhaps her soul, for this? Justice, her mind whispered. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes. "Justice."

* * *

Meravyel knelt before the pentagram. Silver blood crept across the floor from the carefully poured sigil, staining the knees of her leather armor. Emptying the last of the remaining vials of unicorn blood she had, she set the vials aside. The chest sat in the center of the symbol, and the alicorn lay pointing at it, north.

She lifted the alicorn, holding it between her hands and lifted it skyward. The words of power whispered past her lips, her mind focused on the chest, on her target. Garreth. Magic flowed from the points of the pentagram, to the chest and then back. The magic then coursed through Meravyel. The alicorn in her hands dissolved into powder and images flooded her mind. Not so much true 'images' as information imbedded in her mind. She simply knew.

* * *

The halls of the Abbey were silent, still. Occasionally one would hear the whisper of robes against marble, but that was all. No one heard the elf enter, no one noticed her.

Meravyel cleared her throat.

The older monk, startled, turned at the sound. The woman before him was pale, almost pale as death, but he could see the slight flush in her cheeks from the chill evening breeze, and that set him a little more at ease than he would have been. "Y-yes, my child?"

"I request shelter for the evening." She bowed her head respectfully, extending a hand with three small emeralds resting n her palm.

Before the monk could respond, a wail sounded from one of the upper rooms. Meravyel's head jerked in that direction, her senses still accustomed to 'overreacting' to stimuli. The monk offered an explanation as he took one emerald and refused the other two with a shake of his head - "A child has been lost. It happens so rarely anymore, it comes as a terrible blow to the parents. We just got word of it this eve." He nodded to a small paper on the desk before him.

Meravyel slipped the two emeralds back into her satchel as she studied the drawing. The innocent eyes set in the young face of a boy stared back at her. The artist had a talent, to be certain. Something itched at the back of Mer's mind. A frown creased her expression. "May I?" she asked, gesturing.

The monk offered her the drawing, with the iron key for her room. "If you can help, please show this to any you know. Perhaps your kind, the Fair Folk, can help in the search?" He sounded hopeful, if not wary.

Meravyel took the sketch and the key. The man gave her brief directions and she found her room in no time. She had a day to prepare.

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> Meravyel clutched the wooden chest until her knuckles turned white. She didn't understand the rage she felt over the child. Why should she risk her life, perhaps her soul, for this? <i>Justice</i>, her mind whispered. Lowering her head, she closed her eyes. "Justice." > <center>* * </center> > Meravyel knelt before the pentagram. Silver blood crept across the floor from the carefully poured sigil, staining the knees of her leather armor. Emptying the last of the remaining vials of unicorn blood she had, she set the vials aside. The chest sat in the center of the symbol, and the alicorn lay pointing at it, north. > She lifted the alicorn, holding it between her hands and lifted it skyward. The words of power whispered past her lips, her mind focused on the chest, on her target. <i>Garreth</i>. Magic flowed from the points of the pentagram, to the chest and then back. The magic then coursed through Meravyel. The alicorn in her hands dissolved into powder and images flooded her mind. Not so much true 'images' as information imbedded in her mind. She simply <i>knew</i>. > <center> * *</center> > The halls of the Abbey were silent, still. Occasionally one would hear the whisper of robes against marble, but that was all. No one heard the elf enter, no one noticed her. > Meravyel cleared her throat. > The older monk, startled, turned at the sound. The woman before him was pale, almost pale as death, but he could see the slight flush in her cheeks from the chill evening breeze, and that set him a little more at ease than he would have been. "Y-yes, my child?" > "I request shelter for the evening." She bowed her head respectfully, extending a hand with three small emeralds resting n her palm. > Before the monk could respond, a wail sounded from one of the upper rooms. Meravyel's head jerked in that direction, her senses still accustomed to 'overreacting' to stimuli. The monk offered an explanation as he took one emerald and refused the other two with a shake of his head - "A child has been lost. It happens so rarely anymore, it comes as a terrible blow to the parents. We just got word of it this eve." He nodded to a small paper on the desk before him. > Meravyel slipped the two emeralds back into her satchel as she studied the drawing. The innocent eyes set in the young face of a boy stared back at her. The artist had a talent, to be certain. Something itched at the back of Mer's mind. A frown creased her expression. "May I?" she asked, gesturing. > The monk offered her the drawing, with the iron key for her room. "If you can help, please show this to any you know. Perhaps your kind, the Fair Folk, can help in the search?" He sounded hopeful, if not wary. > Meravyel took the sketch and the key. The man gave her brief directions and she found her room in no time. She had a day to prepare.
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