The lettering on the sign, Simon couldn't read. It was in another language. Probably the same language of the bandits. Oddly enough, he could understand what the sign said.

Welcome to the town of New Toren

Bandits and Marauding Armies NOT welcome.

Simon shook his head and read the sign again. Somehow, the words were being shoved into his head. The night had fallen around him and there was a salt smell in the air. Simon knew that smell from his younger days. When one has vacations along the eastern seaboard of the US, one gets used to a certain smell. It was the smell of fish that weren't all that alive and the water that surrounded them. Simon smiled.

Turning of the Key By Joshua Trujillo

Part 2 - Miranda

Many of the small town's shops were closed for the evening. That wasn't surprising, given the amount of thieves and brigands in the area. One of the places open was a small establishment near the harbor. Darkness crept on darkness as Simon made his way through town. He tried to keep out of the way of people, but those that saw him tried not to see him. He guessed it was because of the way he looked. Hmph. He thought about berating them for it, at least in his mind, but who was he kidding? He'd do the same thing.

He could smell the place before he could see it. It wasn't exactly a smell he could place. Simon supposed it was food, but it kind of had the smell of detergent to it as well. Simon shrugged to himself. So long as it was edible...The light poured out as he opened the door. The sign above said that it was a pub and an inn. Everything he needed.

There was a low murmur that enfolded his ears as-

"Oy!" the bartender yelled at him, "Don't stand there holdin' the door open!"

Simon looked at the door like he'd never seen it before and let go, watching it swing slowly closed behind him. Simon shook his wet cloak and rubbed his hands. Along the far wall, a large fireplace put heat into the room. To one side, a bar trailed the length of the room and there were various tables and chairs in the space remaining. Simon shook his head and sat at the bar.

"And you want...?" the bartender trailed.

"Something hot to eat," Simon tried to act tough, "Someplace warm to sleep."

The bartender looked at Simon for a second.

"And you have a way to pay for these?"

Simon nodded slightly and brought his little bag of coins. He dumped some on the bar and took small pleasure in seeing the bartender's eyes light up. In all his young life, it was the first time he'd ever heard another person's mind sound like a cash register. Simon gathered the coins back into his bag as the bartender scuffled quickly into the back room.

The food was good, whatever it was. Tasted like clam chowder, and Simon suspected it was something similar, but he wouldn't ask exactly what it was for fear they'd actually tell him. After seeing his money, the bartender was quite helpful describing the different kinds of coins Simon had, though Simon thought he was getting ripped. The bartender's fat wife also came out and needled the old man for trying to cheat Simon, but it was in good humor. Simon liked these two. Honest people.

"So, where're ya' headin' to?" the fat wife asked, pouring another mug of ale for Simon.

"Don't know really," he replied, "I'm not from around here and I need to find a really powerful wizard who can help me get home again."

"Oy..." she muttered, "You don't wants to mess with wizards, deary. That'll like as be the end of ya'."

"Getting to this town was hard enough," Simon said quietly, "I was attacked on the road."

"You were?" she was surprised, "And you lived? Well...You must be a pretty good hand at a sword yourself...Unless..."

She backed up a step.

"Unless?" Simon asked.

"Are...Are you a wizard?"

At that, every eye in the pub turned to Simon and he could feel the palpable tension as it laced the air. Underneath his tunic, Simon could feel the key as it started to hum to life and Simon swallowed hard. If it went off in here, he could seriously hurt...Simon threw his hands up and laughed slightly.

"Do I honestly look like a wizard?" he laughed, "I mean, wouldn't they take more care of themselves?"

"No," a surly man said from one corner.

Simon laughed again.

"Well, I'm not."

"Well," the fat wife began slowly, "I'll take you at your word. Your room should be ready. Third door on the left upstairs."

Simon cleared his throat and grabbed the last bit of bread on his way up.

"My thanks," he muttered.

The room was small and warm. Most likely near the chimney of that huge fireplace. It seemed that wizards weren't all that welcome in New Toren. Which also meant that he'd probably not find someone to help him here. Simon sighed as he took off his 'borrowed' clothes. They were mud-encrusted and smelly. Torn in places. A bath had been drawn in the small bathroom area of the room. A hot bath. How nice...Simon sighed as he stepped into the tub.

He had decided to keep the key around his neck. It was most certainly silver and therefore valuable, but it was also the only way home that Simon knew of. Therefore to lose it now would be disastrous. The water was laced with something that smelled like lavender. It felt good to wash the dirt and road of the last two days from his body. As he dried himself, he crawled in bed and blew out the candle on the nightstand.

He didn't even remember his head hitting the pillow.

It was a great black plain. Simon looked out over the plain far below and marveled slightly as it stretched into the horizon. He'd never seen anything so vast before. Sure, he'd been raised in the Midwest, but this was like the great plain of Russia in magnitude. It just simply went. Simon examined the window out of which he gazed. It had a smooth, polished surface that was black as night. The edges of the window were extremely rigid and sharp. Obsidian? Simon looked at the floor. It seemed to be made of the same material. Simon looked up and couldn't find a ceiling to examine. He was in some sort of central hallway with obsidian walls and floors and, presumably, ceilings stretching to infinity. Where in the world could someone get THIS much obsidian though? A noise drew his attention back out the window and he looked down to the plain below the window.

Simon could see, on the black dusty plain far below, movement. Little black dots skittered back and forth. They looked like ants, but Simon knew that was simply perspective. A huge form dropped in front of the window and Simon stepped back. It had huge feathered wings, black and greasy looking. It beat its wings against the window, wanting Simon to open the window for it. For half a heartbeat, Simon reached to open the window. He stopped himself, which seemed to enrage the creature. It drew its taloned feet up and scratched viciously at the glass of the window. The creature finally opened its long mouth-beak, showing rows of vile teeth, and bellowed a horrible scream that ripped through Simon-

Simon sat up in bed, clutching his chest. Ragged breaths forced themselves out of Simon as he tried to calm down. The key underneath his hand ceased vibrating and settled once more inert. Simon was in bed. He looked to his right. Sun streamed in through the curtains, which were drawn back. Another hot bath had been drawn. Simon let go of the key and held his face, trying to force the visions from his mind. They slowly died and Simon sighed. At the end of the bed, Vrill lay quietly in his scabbard. Simon reached down and drew him out.

"Vrill."

-Huh?- Vrill muttered, obviously still asleep himself, -When did we get to a bedroom? Where are we?-

"You haven't noticed a damn thing I've done since I put you back in your scabbard, have you?" Simon sighed.

-Why should I?- Vrill protested, -If you want to close your mind to me, then why should I help?-

"Vrill, we went over this before the last attack," Simon rubbed his eyes, "I can't control whether or not my mind is closed. I just can't, Vrill..."

Vrill mumbled something to himself and audibly sighed in Simon's mind.

-Alright,- he began, -I have a couple things to try to get your mind to open up, but they might sting a little...-

Simon nodded.

-Okay,- Vrill sighed again, -While I work, you can tell me what's going on.-

Simon nodded again. What a way to start the day...

The door opened slightly and a girl poked her head into the room. The man inside was singing. And badly. She smiled to herself and tried to close the door behind her as quietly as she could. Unfortunately, her mother insisted that, for safety's sake, the hinges squeak. The man stopped singing. The girl tiptoed across the room to the dresser.

"What do you mean 'a girl'?" the man said to himself, "Hello? Is there someone in the room? I rented this room, you know..."

The girl looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. She laid the small bundle on the dresser and made for the door.

"Excuse me," she heard a voice behind her, "But, who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

She half-turned and saw the man holding a towel around him. She smirked and pointed down. The man looked down and realized one of the other oddities that her mother insisted on. Little towels. He squeaked and pulled it around him as best he could. If she could laugh, his reaction would have garnered one. She rapped her knuckles on the bedpost to get his attention and gestured to the dresser. The man walked sideways to the dresser and opened the bundle she had put there.

"Um," he began, "I can't untie this with one hand and...Well..."

She smirked at him again and untied the bundle for him. She also noted that he stepped back a notch as she approached. She pulled out his clothes and laid them, one by one, on the bed. She stepped back.

"I..." he looked like he was guilty, "I'm sorry. I didn't see the scar at first..."

Unconsciously, she reached a hand up to the left side of her throat. The scar there was quite old and, at times, she even forgot that she couldn't speak. Then there were times that she was glad for the silence. This wasn't one of them. She waved her hands and tried to back away to the door, which opened hard against her, throwing her to the floor.

"What's taking you so long-" the fat wife from the night before bellowed into the room.

She stood there, her eyes agog at Simon. Her gaze traveled to her daughter, who was sprawled on the floor.

"What have yOU DONE?" she bellowed in ever increasing octaves.

At which, Simon threw up both of his hands to try and ward off whatever might be coming. Unfortunately, that didn't leave much room for the towel, which dropped spitefully to the floor. The mute girl cringed as the fat old lady screamed and ran from the room. The mute girl shook her head and silently began to laugh out loud. She pointed hurriedly at the clothes on the bed and Simon nodded, putting them on as fast as he could. He absently noted how they had been cleaned and the ripped bit mended. Even the old boots had been mended.

-Okay,- Vrill said, confused, -I get that the girl is mute, but what in the name of the Twin Gods of Misfortune just happened? And who was that beast that barged in here?-

"The girl's mother," Simon muttered as he slipped Vrill back into his scabbard.

Simon had thought it best to leave Vrill out as sort of a watchdog. So much for that thought.

-What was her problem, then?-

"She believes that I've done something that I've not," Simon said as he looked around quickly for his cloak.

The girl had it. She wrapped it around his shoulders and drew Simon into a kiss. It was soft and left Simon wondering-

'This is the only way I can speak to anyone now.'

Simon broke away and stared at her in disbelief. She smiled and shook her head, taking him into a kiss again.

'It's some trick of the Gods, or magic or something,' she said in his mind, 'Probably to get back at my parents. Anyway, my name is Miranda and I want you to take me with you.'

But, you don't know where I'm going...*I* don't know where I'm going!? Simon thought back.

Somewhere in the back of Simon's mind, bits not processing either the enjoyment of kissing a pretty girl, or engaged in telepathic conversation with said girl were beginning to count down.

'I don't care,' she thought, 'I just want OUT of this idiot town!'

But your parents...

She giggled in his mind as the bits counting down reached zero. The door flew open once more and the bartender entered with a rather large axe. Simon knew he probably had it to grind with Simon, preferably in his head. Simon jumped back from Miranda as if bit. She ran to her father and waved her arms in front of him.

-I think now would be a good time to run,- Vrill said calmly.

"But what of Miranda?" Simon asked.

"WHAT ABOUT MY DAUGHTER?" the bartender buried the axe in the dresser as Simon jumped back.

-Run!- Vrill shrieked.

Dammit! This was a coincidence. Why should Simon be the one to get punished for this? Simon continued to back toward the window. On the upside, it was a way out. On the downside, he was on the upper floor and it didn't have a balcony. The bartender yelled something as he fought to free the axe, Miranda draped over his arms. Simon stumbled over the screen that separated the bath area and the bedroom as the fat wife screamed into the room. She ran to Simon and grappled him to his feet by the sides of his cloak. The wife then slipped behind Simon and held both his arms in an iron grip as he tried to free himself for the door. Miranda was thrown onto the bed as her father freed the axe and advanced on Simon. In one desperate flash of insight, Simon knew that, if he ducked, the wife would get it.

What does that matter?

Simon wondered briefly why he'd thought that, but pushed it out of his mind and concentrated. The key around his chest hummed. The bartender stopped his advance as the key floated free of Simon's tunic. The silver key floated just about head height and hummed in an increasing crescendo. The bartender and his wife stood stunned as they watched the pitch black letters on the key begin to coalesce and swirl around the key as if driven by a wind they couldn't see.

"No." Simon said, still concentrating.

The wind grew and the darkness edged outwards.

-Siiiiiiiiimon...It's happening again!- Vrill yelled.

"No!" Simon forced the demon back down.

The blackness pulsed. It would NOT be kept in.

-Simon!-

"NO!"

Simon grabbed the key as the wind exploded outwards in a violent cacophony of chaos. In a final instant before the darkness captured him, he saw Miranda escape out the door of the room. Darkness swirled around him, inky and thick. It was almost palpable and Simon reached out to touch it. A dizzyingly cold feeling raced up his arm as the darkness unfolded around him. Simon blinked against the sunlight as he looked around. Simon tried to stand, but the motion underneath him tipped him back in to-the bottom of the boat? Simon looked about him. It was a little vessel on the other side of the pub, the daylight sun streaming down as a crunching sound broke through the pain from his arm.

Simon crawled to the edge of the boat and looked over the edge. The moorings had been cut and Simon was floating free. He watched, horrified as the pub itself began to splinter. As if pulled by a string in the middle, the pub shattered into a huge pile of wreckage and all was silent.

"No..." he whispered, "Miranda..."

Something caught his eye as he looked out toward the harbor. It was something in the water to his right. Simon squinted in the sunlight, but only caught a glimpse of what looked like a serpent in the water. Simon backed up from the edge of the boat and almost yelped as he felt the boat begin to move. Whatever it was was taking him out to sea! Away from Miranda! Simon jumped up, with some trouble, and grabbed the rudder. At least he could control the direction he went, if not the speed. Simon pulled at the rudder, but it wouldn't move. It felt like something was on the other end, fighting him.

"I've gotta get back-"

The boat rocked and cut Simon off as it sprawled him to the deck. The back of Simon's head hit something hard and he went out like a light.

Joshua "Gargoyle" Trujillo "Stone Cold Protector of the Righteous" "Owner of The Anime Bar & Grille - Type without Pants!"

Come visit The Anime Bar & Grille! Now with two locations! http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Towers/1509 and http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/museum/1275