Tempest Rise (Treborel) - By Alaina Stanford Page 0,20

wanted him dead, not because he got scared.” Cap felt a surge of anger rush through him and he rose, turning back toward the lodge.

“Cap, wait,” Kendra jumped up moving after him. “I don’t want to argue. This is the last night we have . . .”

“That’s right, and I don’t want to spend it talking about Connor.” Cap turned back so sharply, Kendra had to jump aside to avoid crashing into him.

"Alright, no more talk of the Commander," Kendra answered, softly. Taking his hand she led him back to sit on the fallen tree. "I want to talk more about not being able to avoid every aggressive situation. I can't promise that every Empath would defend himself with a weapon. I can tell you that I carry my dirk so that I do have some sort of protection but not against animals. I don't want a weapon that I could use easily or quickly. I don't want to be able to kill anyone or anything without using every possible means to avoid it. It's too easy to kill from a distance. Empaths learn to disarm any man or beast with calm thoughts and rational words."

"What if that's not enough?" Cap asked, releasing his anger.

"It always has been. You forget Empaths can calm any living creature with their touch and their voice as well. It is a simple matter of using ‘the strength' to reinforce your feeling of good will and forthright intent.” Kendra explained, encouraged by his interest.

"I hope you're right, I'd hate to see you in a situation with a crazed sraeb. If you're soothing doesn't work, it would have you for dinner.” Cap's eyes betrayed the tenderness of his reprimand.

"Human beings have been plagued throughout the ages with situations that they were unprepared to handle. We are still thriving; the Empathic Community is at its largest since the beginning. Our understanding and insight helped us to survive."

"When was the beginning? Who are your ancestors?" Cap asked, recalling ancient legends about the healers' origins, his anger forgotten.

"Those are difficult questions to answer." Kendra sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure myself. The Elders have the records of Empathic History hidden. The colony was established over 700 years ago, before that I really couldn't tell you anything. Our history was entrusted to the Elders, hundreds of years ago. There are rumors that some dark secret is being kept hidden. Maybe we're descended from thieves or murderers." Kendra smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "The scrolls probably don't even exist. I think the Elders are just too ashamed to admit they have no records of who we are or where we truly come from. And if they are real, who's to say they're not just a bunch of stories some grandfather told his grandchildren on a cold winter night around an ancient fire."

"Your practical attitude amazes me. I expected some wild yarn about sorcerers and magical spells. I should have known you wouldn't have believed in those stories. You're too independent and clear-minded to fall for such nonsense." Cap smiled, taking her hand in his. "I would still like to teach you to use the bow. However, I will just have to get used to the idea of your wandering around the wilderness without any protection."

"Except my 'strength'."

"Except your 'strength'."

The next morning Cap and Kendra said a reluctant good-bye and the two parties headed in separate directions. Kendra and Eades took two of the soldiers and headed back toward Borel with Bosen. Katar, Cap and the others headed west for the Chasm and Lon Tesse. Cap's mind was full of Kendra, her slender figure, long flowing hair and the way she always smelled of fresh herbs. Katar's thoughts went to Bantor, King William and Hanlin's unanswered communications.

Chapter Three

The archery tournament held on the back lawn of Regent Dana's Mountain Retreat was going well for Lysette. As usual, the slender, blonde surgeon was taking top honors in the longbow division. She enjoyed the sport with surprising ease. The only effort she expended was in making sure her mind was clear of everything except the target. Today her concentration was slightly off. Yet, when she used the vision of Prince Roth's face against the target, her aim was true.

At a distance of nearly one hundred and seventy-five meters, Prince Roth had insisted on setting the target to sway. Hitting the mark dead center, Lysette received a howl of disbelief from the handsome auburn-haired Prince. "Will you never miss?" His pale,