CROSSFIRE CHAPTER 2

    Connie threw her weary body into the large bed. It was the softest, most comfortable bed she had ever seen. The warm, velvet and silk sheets beckoned for her to snuggle under their warmth, and it was a temptation she was prepared to readily give in to. It had been a hard past few weeks for her. No sooner had she returned from the Tattered Spire, when Theresa had sent her toddling off to Bloodstone. The young woman would have liked to have been able to relax before such an endeavor; at least for a few days. But perilous adventures were all part of her duty to the people; her calling as a hero. Her mission had to be fulfilled, and there would be no rest, no break, no time to enjoy herself at all. Not until her beloved sister's death had been avenged, and the world was safe. For all her faults and innocent ways, Connie Remswood was a disciplined and very serious girl. She had devoted herself long ago, to what many her age still had yet to come to grips with. Responsibility. As a savior of the people, she believed that she no longer had the right to be lazy; the whole of her country depended on her and the outcome of her quest. However, her noble heart had consumed her over the last few years, especially after what she had witnessed...what she had done in the Tattered Spire. She had begun to obsess over her role in Albion's future, to the extreme of rarely letting herself even have fun anymore.

    It felt so strange to be staying in such a luxurious place. Connie had spent the night in so many different places since the start of her journey. The noisy taverns within the welcoming villages and towns. The humble cottages of kindly villagers, who would sometimes offer her and Lance a warm meal and a place to sleep for the night. Even nestled within the branches of tall trees, where hobbes and bandits could never hope to slay her while she dreamt. All of these aforementioned places were so tiny and modest compared to even one room of this mansion. Connie tried to think about whether or not she had ever seen another mansion in Albion. It didn't take her much time to come to her conclusion. Other than that eerie abandoned villa nestled deep within the graveyard, the answer was no.

I guess most people simply don't have the funds for such upscale living. This Reaver must be very rich indeed! She mused. A small smile graced her lips. Perhaps that was why he expected more from her; the elite didn't tend to mix with the lower classes, if it could be avoided. I'm not rich, so maybe he expects me to prove my value through my profession. Still, it seems rather shallow of him. Doesn't he care if Lord Lucien destroys Albion? It was difficult for her to comprehend just why Reaver was giving her such a difficult time, but he had at least offered her something in return; and for that, Connie was grateful.

    She ran her hand up over the smooth red silk of the mattress. She wished that her host had allowed her to keep Lance with her. She had never spent a night without the white beast at her side; this would be a very uncomfortable first for the both of them. But she understood that if Reaver hated dogs, then it was his decision in the end. Connie tried to be grateful, but she couldn't help but miss her furry friend.

The discomforting thought of sleeping without Lance was beginning to unnerve her. There was, after all, another reason she kept him so close. The wolfdog could sense her oncoming depression, or wake her from the night terrors that had never ceased to plague her. They were always about her sister; of that night in Lord Lucien's study. And they were extremely graphic and disturbing in nature. Connie shuddered as her mind's eye began to play tricks on her. It would do this from time to time by forcing images from that evening back into her subconscious. Once they began, they were difficult to shut out. With an inaudible gasp of fear, Connie screamed at her mind to concentrate on something else. Anything else. I wonder how famous he wants me to become before he'll help me? I suppose I really should ask him. Her thoughts were cut short by a light rap at her bedroom door.

"Come in!" Connie responded. The doorknob slowly turned, and a young woman entered her chambers. She was dressed in maid attire, and had short light brown hair.

"Miss, Master Reaver has sent for you. Dinner is ready." The maid explained. Connie stood.

"I'll be right down." She replied. The maid curtsied once before exiting the room. Connie fell in behind her, and followed down the winding stairway.

*************************************

    Once inside the study, Connie looked at the maid, confused. This was clearly not the dining room.

"Excuse me, but didn't you just say that dinner was ready?" The heroine asked the accompanying maid.

"Yes Madam. Follow me."

"Follow you where, exactly?" Connie smirked. The maid giggled at Connie's confusion, before walking over to the left side of the immense room. There, she fiddled with the thick books on a nearby bookcase, and to Connie's amazement, the shelf gave a creak, and rolled aside. The maid turned back to Connie and motioned for her to proceed down into the depths of this new passage.

"This way to the dining room." She instructed.

****************************************

    Connie noticed Reaver within moments upon entering the hidden room. He was seated at a long mahogany table. There were six maids and six male servants surrounding him. Each was busy preparing their master for his evening meal. Connie's mouth began to water at sight of the succulent feast spread out before her. There was roast duck, fresh fish, and even an enormous chocolate cake; complete with icing and tiny cherries. As he took notice of her, Reaver grinned wolfishly.

"Ah! It's you; my guest of honor!" He proclaimed. Connie walked over to him.

"Good evening Mr. Reaver." She greeted her fellow hero. Reaver gave her a playful smile.

"Let's cut the formalities, shall we? My glorious name is significant enough to be spoken alone by a luscious lady such as thee."

"I'll take it that you would rather I just call you Reaver?" Connie smiled sarcastically.

"In lay man's terms, yes." He snorted. Patting the chair next to his, the pirate took in the young woman with his hungry green eyes. "Would you please?" He beckoned. Connie took a seat next to him, still smiling sweetly.

"This food looks so delicious!" She added.

"Oh yes, my! Where are my manners." The scoundrel grinned. He raised a hand for his young maids. "Prepare Miss Remswood a plate as well."

"Yes Master Reaver" They replied in unison.. Reaver smiled at their eagerness to please him. If there was one thing that he loved about his staff, it was the way he could work them like filthy dogs; yet due to his handsome looks and quick wit, they would never object. He needed only to purr one of his playful come ons, and these impressionable, innocent young things would be his to control; and to take advantage of. Reaver turned his attention back to the woman now seated beside him. Connie was already digging into her plate, gravy and bits of biscuit plastered across her cheeks. He gave a sneer of utter disgust at the sight of her barbaric display.

"Keep eating like that, and I'm afraid you'll soon outgrow that beautiful dress, my dear."

"Excuse me?! For your information, I haven't eaten a morsel in almost two days! A few calories isn't going to hurt me at this point." Connie retorted, infuriated by his rude comment.

"Terribly sorry, I just was looking out for your...assets" His eyes went from her flat abdomen, to her large supple bosoms. Connie could hardly belive how he was acting! On her first impression, she had thought Reaver rude, shallow, and maybe a bit of a pervert. But whether it was his hospitality, or her lack of judgement due to fatigue, the naive heroine had chosen to overlook his inital behaviour.

"I can look out for myself thank you!" She growled. Reaver chuckled and went back to his own dinner.

"Yes, I'm sure that you can. So, about that. Let's talk business shall we? Tell me of this little 'quest' of yours dear."

"As I told you earlier, myself and two other heros are on a quest to stop Lord Lucien, by taking down the evil Tattered Spire from within." Connie explained. Reaver's eyes narrowed. He put down his fork and stared at her.

The seemingly innocent girl before him, who had just asked him to join her in doing the impossible. My goodness, you're just full of fire aren't you? He grinned.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to help you and two of your little friends take down the most powerful man in Albion?" He asked, mockery coating his every word.

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"How long exactly have you been thinking this way?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'm not crazy! Lucien has got to be stopped! He's an extremely dangerous man!" Connie yelled, highly upset by Reaver's assumption.

"An extremely dangerous man? Last time I checked, he was simply an old loon with a purely ludicrous idea. Much like you sweetness," he took a bite of fish, "minus the 'old' bit." Connie was infuriated. Biting her tongue, she fought to keep calm. Maybe Reaver didn't know the truth about what was going on inside the Spire; or what it was for. Whatever the case, anger and retaliation were not going to convince him to join her in putting an end to either. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to very calmly reason with the pirate.

"Listen, Reaver. I understand that to get you to take me seriously, I need to do some more quests. I know that you're extremely wealthy, so you probably want me to prove my worth via my profession, rather than my income. I will comply with that. But please. Do not underestimate Lord Lucien, or what he's capable of...the way I did." She pleaded, her voice ending on a weak whisper. The pirate swallowed his bite of dinner and looked at her, intrigued.

"Like you did?" Connie paused. She knew what she had to tell Reaver, but the memory was downright horrific. But if he was going to help her with this quest, he needed to know. Hammer and Garth both knew. It would be wrong not to inform him of the crimes Lucien was more than capable of. The brave young woman closed her eyes and began to speak.

"I was his prisoner in the Tattered Spire for ten years. I went in there to rescue another hero; my friend Garth. I thought it would be a simple operation. I was gravely mistaken." She explained, her voice trembling at the thought of all the awful tasks that had been forced upon her shoulders as a Spire Guard. They were literal stains upon her soul. Stains that none of her good deeds could ever hope to wash away. Reaver continued to listen. Unbeknownst to her, Connie now held him completely transfixed. For all the wrong reasons.

"So, you escaped from the Tattered Spire eh? Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I would have, if you hadn't told me flat-out that you wouldn't help a 'nobody' like myself." She snapped, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin.

"I did say that, didn't I? Such a clever wit I have." Reaver grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself.

"So, that's the baseline of my quest. Will you help me?"

"Perhaps if you keep your end of the bargain."

"I promise that I will do anything you ask of me; as long as it means you will commit to my cause. The whole of Albion, nay, the world will be decided by the success or failure of this endeavour." Connie replied solemnly. Reaver chuckled again, slightly more disturbingly this time. Anything, she says? This whole thing might be easier than I initially thought. He smiled at Connie, and finally gave a reluctant nod.

"Alright it's a deal. Though I must say, you do have quite a flair for dramatics."

"I've never been told that, but thanks I guess."

"You're welcome."

****************************

    That evening, after the delicious meal, Connie took her leftovers out to Lance, along with a pot of water from the kitchen. The wolfdog was extremely excited to see his mistress as she appeared in the doorway of Reaver's mansion. He thumped his tail excitedly against the dirt road, and his navy eyes locked into Connie's.

She was alright. For now.

"Here Lance. It's some of the roast duck from dinner tonight." Connie placed the meat on the ground in front of him. She laughed as her pet wasted no time in devouring the expensive cut of meat. "Better than jerky, eh boy?" Lance answered her with only the smacks and snaps of his maw, and a small gurgle of contentment when he was finished. Connie placed the water before him, and watched as his large tongue lapped the pot dry. She looked up towards the giant building again, and then back to her friend. He was sitting before her, a look of sadness and distinct concern plastered across his lupine face.

"I know. I know." She knelt down and hugged him hard. Lance nuzzled his snout into her auburn hair and whined. If he had ever wished the ability to speak to her, this was it. All his prior attempts at interspecies communication had failed, and there was nothing left that he could do for her. No possible way to warn her of the monster he saw within Reaver; with his waking eyes.

"I'm going to miss you too. But I'll see you at dawn's first light, I promise." She crooned to her pet, practically crying at this point. When the two finally parted, Connie trudged back inside, her face awash with forlorn tears. She gave Lance one last look of sorrow, before shutting the door.

*****************************************

    The heroine ascended the staircase, and opened the door to her guest room. It was extremely dark inside, and Connie could only barely make out the silhouette of the oil lamp as she entered. With utmost care not to stumble, she made her way over to the oval-shaped light fixture. Reaching for a match, she illuminated the bedchambers. Just as she had begun to relax, Connie heard the door lock. She whirled around to see Reaver, a dirty smile spread out across his thin lips.

"Reaver?! What are you doing in my room?" Connie asked, worried as to why he had locked the door. The pirate continued to grin evilly at her, as he advanced.

"We had a professional agreement dear, did we not?" He purred.

"Yes, but why are you in my room?" Reaver didn't answer her. Instead, he wrapped his long arm around her nervous body, and pulled her towards him. Connie reached for the pistol which she kept in a leather garter belt on her left thigh, but the pirate's firm grip kept her from retrieving it. He grabbed Connie's face with his other hand, forcing her to look at him. His green eyes were blazing wild with desire.

"You see my dear, I agreed to help you and your frivolous cause, and you in turn agreed to give me anything I wanted in return." Connie's eyes widened. She did not like where this conversation was going.

"W-what do you want then?" She asked, afraid of the obvious answer. Reaver began to stroke back the long hair from Connie's face. He leaned in a nibbled her tender earlobe. The young woman gasped.

"Such a lovely, trusting girl. To think, that you agreed to stay with me in my home." He began to rub her back. "Knowing full well that I am a murderous, devious, and extremely amorous Pirate King." He snarled the last two words into Connie's ear.

"Y-you said that you wanted me to gather some more renown..."

"I know what I said, but you looked so lovely at dinner. I have come to offer you a new proposition." He replied, covering Connie's neck with fiery kisses. "I want you to forget all about this nonsense quest; and become my new lover instead." Connie couldn't belive what was happening! She fought to keep Reaver from progressing even further into his rape, but her efforts were futile.

"Reaver! Please, stop!" She pleaded.

"You're far to beautiful to be gallivanting across Albion slaying beasts and helping peasants. You belong with a dashing rogue, more specifically, you belong to me." Reaver growled. Connie squirmed ever harder to stop what was to come. She had come seeking the pirate's help, his heroic skills, not this! Reaver bent forward and whispered, in his deep, melodious voice.

"Come, come my pet. Do not try and resist me. I think you'll find, that it is impossible." Reaver continued to flood Connie's mind with fear and pleasure. He knew that if he kept up what he was doing, he would soon have her soon enough. Whether she wanted it or not. No woman could resist him; and this particular beauty had caught his eye from the very beginning.

    Just when she thought her body would give in, Connie summoned all of her strength and lifted her leg, ramming her sharp knee into Reaver's hardening groin. The pirate gave a cry of agony, and doubled over, giving Connie a much-needed chance to escape. She grabbed her light brown satchel for the bed and careened out the door of the mansion.

Reaver groaned as he got shakily to his feet. He looked out the window and watched his quarry run down the cobblestone street. A dark rage seethed from deep inside of him. Damn that Connie Remswood! Such a defiant girl! He turned away from the window, his eyes a red haze of pain and fury. The pirate pulled free his trademark pistol, and cocked the hammer into place. He would teach her a lesson, by putting one of his golden bullets into her foolish brain.

But just as he marched past the table, a circular shape caught his attention. Reaver's every hair stood on end as he realized just what it was.

"The Dark Seal..." He whispered, a primal fear seeping past his lips. "Has it really been four years already?"

    It was time. Time for the hero to send yet another victim out to the Shadow Court. To Wraithmarsh. The pirate's inital horror was grounded by the inevitable. It wasn't the fact that he had to do this, such a notion never crossed his thoughts anymore. Reaver had long since released that other man into the grips of history and death. But there was something...wrong; with that damned seal. No matter how many times he saw it, the demonic relic had never lost its air of ominous and unforseen paranoia. Reaver stood there in the darkness and stared at the blood-red dragon for several minutes, before logic gradually overtook him once more. Who should I send this time around? I have so many annoying and useless people at my disposal...His thoughts brought a cunning smile to his face. He knew just the person. She'll have to come back to me sooner or later, if her pathetic little quest is indeed real. And when she returns, I'll have a rather nasty surprise waiting for her.