Greetings one and all...

Just a short author's note before we begin...

From now on, all the chapters will be titled 'Turning of the Key', to reflect that Vashanna is a part of Simon's story...

HOWEVER...There may be points that Vashanna has her own story...Those will be entitled 'Heavy Metal'...

Confused yet? Gomen...;)

Separate chapter titles will reflect the bias of the story...Regular titles for Simon, titles of heavy metal songs for Vashanna.

Thanks for listening to me prattle...On with the fic, ne?

Enjoy!

Simon awoke. He didn't jump up from where he lay, he just opened his eyes. He'd been having the most pleasant dream about a swan maiden that took pity on his situation, there in the barrel, and saved him. She nursed him back to health, but could only stay for a time before turning back into a swan. And yet, she stayed. Among the thousand other things she could've done with her time as a person, she chose to care for Simon. It was a nice dream. Too bad he woke up. A wooden ceiling. Don't see too many of those nowadays. Usually covered with plaster or something. He liked it. Several thousand questions rolled around like errant beebees in Simon's head. How'd he get here? Where's his stuff? He's alive?!

"Vrill..." he said meekly.

The sound of his own voice startled him. It grated at not having been used in a long time. That wasn't quite true either, but exclamations didn't really count. Of course, the fact that the room didn't pitch and turn startled him as well. He wasn't used to all this...stillness. A warm breeze blew across his face as Simon tried to sit up. He thought better of it and lay back down again. A pain shot through his leg and Simon whimpered slightly. Of course, it didn't hurt when it happened, no, that'd be too easy. He KNEW he was gonna end up sticking himself with Vrill. He had no other choice during the storm, though. Simon vowed to thank to person that saved him however he could. But first...a little nap...

Turning of the Key By Joshua Trujillo

Part 5 - Voices from Kadath

Simon awoke again and tore away at his covers, which were too hot. It was like an-

What was he doing naked?!

Simon pulled the bottom sheet back over him and lay still. Was he naked the last time he checked? He wasn't sure that he checked. In the barrel, he just had his light tunic. After the first couple of storms, the top part had torn itself to pieces, so he was left with a little loincloth deal. Out at sea, that wasn't a big deal and Simon left it. He hadn't wanted to burn Mr. Happy, after all. So that means that whoever brought him here also undressed him. From the smell of things, they also bathed him. He just wasn't sure about all this...Some movement on the floor caught his eye. It was a little guy. Well, it was...Simon wasn't sure what the Hell it was. It kinda looked like Vrill had been stuck in the floor, but still free to spin on the tip of his blade like a top. At the top of the hilt sat a little hologram. The little man was weasely and thin and reminded Simon of those horrible Sam Raimi movies.

-Mornin' Simon,- Vrill piped in, -Man, have YOU missed out on some stuff...-

"Wha-" Simon coughed a few times, "Vrill? What's going on?"

"Perhaps I can answer that."

Simon looked up from the bed at the woman standing in the doorway. She sheer sight of a creature so beautiful made him blink twice. Okay, Vrill was on the floor, a little hologram Vrill on top. This woman, this GODDESS, standing in the doorway, her hands at her small hips. She was exquisite. Fine features on dark caramel brown skin, pure white hair falling like snow around her sweet face. Her long ears only accentuating the subtle, sweet tones of her form. Eyes the color of the sky after a storm...Or something like that...It also didn't hurt that her lithe little frame had a bikini covering her top and insanely short shorts covering her...bottom...Simon could only mumble incoherently. She smirked at this and came to his bedside.

"My name is Vashanna Naelyn," she said softly, "I must ask, Vrill claims that you're his master. Is that true?"

"Uh..." Simon still stammered, "Yeah..."

She scowled slightly and turned to the little dagger, who took all the proceedings in with great interest.

-He's just wild about you, sweetcheeks, I can tell!-

"Vrill!" the both shouted.

Simon looked at Vashanna and she returned his stunned look.

"You..." it was now her turn to stammer, "You can hear him?"

Simon nodded.

-Oh yeah, we've been friends since we first met,- Vrill piped up again, -We'd talk about everything. The weather. The local news. How we're gonna die horribly today...-

Simon sighed and glanced a stiff look at the little dagger, who held up his hands and smiled.

"If you can hear him, that proves you're his master," Vashanna said, "More importantly, it proves that I can trust you. Now, let me look at how your leg's healing."

She began to pull back the slight sheet and Simon grabbed hold. She looked up at him questioningly.

-He's SHY,- Vrill muttered.

She softened into a smile at the news and pulled his hands away. Simon gasped at the strength. Either he was really weak, which could be the case, or she was incredibly strong. Either way, he couldn't put up much resistance.

"Please don't struggle," she said as she felt him push, "Elves are much stronger than any humans and especially one in such a weakened state as you. I promise, I won't take undue advantage of you, okay?"

Simon eased his struggles and winced slightly as she began to explore his leg.

-Let me fill you in on a few things,- Vrill said, -Take your mind off the...hehehe...examination...-

The look Simon gave Vrill could have shattered stone.

-Ahem...Okay...We had our run-in with those big biolumins almost three whole days ago and you've been out ever since. To be quite honest, we weren't exactly sure you were gonna make it,- he sighed, -The wound wasn't all that bad. Luck was with us. Problem was, you'd lost so much blood that your body was having a hard time keeping itself together.-

"That's correct," Vashanna said softly, "I may be a licensed doctor, but working in the wilderness like this is too much even above me."

"You're a licensed doctor?" Simon asked.

She stopped her probing and looked at him with a sly half-smile. She looked like she was going to say something, but simply returned to her poking with a nod.

"You seem, um, a little..."

"A little?" she asked, a smirk still on her face.

"Well..." Simon gulped, "Young."

"I *am* young," she sighed, "For an elf."

Silence fell on them both. Simon was certain that he'd hit a tender subject with his beautiful savior. He didn't want to seem ungrateful, but he just wondered about her training, and in so doing cost him something. She sighed lightly, but never let the smile drop from her demeanor. Simon smiled despite himself for the ease of her bedside manner.

"Just how old do you think I am?" she chirped out of the blue.

Simon began to sweat. It was one of those questions that you should NEVER ask. Especially to someone of a different species.

"I-uh," Simon tried to stall, "I don't really know how long elves live."

-Good call! Good call!- Vrill hooted.

"Shut up Vrill!" they both said at once.

She looked to him and shook her head as she returned to minister to his leg.

"We've REALLY gotta stop doing that," she said.

Simon nodded.

"But yes, I AM an md. I'm not certified in the states, but I am certified in Italy, Germany and France," she moved his leg slightly to wrap it, "Not anything special, mind you, just gp."

"G.p.?"

"General practitioner," she said as she finished with the wrap, "It's a little something about modern elf society. We're encouraged to use our tutors and get as much education as possible before we begin the work of our life. I have an md, and three PhD's."

"Wow..."

"My md, I suppose, is what I'm most proud of. Took the most work. The one that helped me do the most was the doctorate in Psychology," she smiled at the thought, "Helped me mentally survive the rest."

Simon flexed his leg and immediately regretted it. He winced, but shut his mouth and bore the pain.

"That's a good patient. So, how did you end up here?"

Simon still felt far too weak to move much. He could feed himself, which was a plus, and Vashanna felt that hunting with Vrill seemed a little easier than with Pasha. In turn, Pasha stayed with the shut in and taught him everything he knew about elven history. And a few things he didn't know about human history too. Pasha even taught him a little magic, though the healing spells took far too much out of either he or Vashanna to help speed the healing of his leg. Over the next week, Simon recovered and tried to help out where he could, though, admittedly not as much as he would have liked. Vashanna brought him clothes from the wreck site, some were from her brother's clothes, but most were from the staff of the mountain. Simon shook his head at the thought that elves were living all over the world and no one ever knew it. Just because human nature says that they shouldn't. So people don't really look for them. It was one of the silliest notions he'd ever heard of, but it worked. Still, it was nice wearing normal (clean) clothes again...

Vashanna translated at all hours of the day and night, still searching for a way home. Through the meals, someone normally had a story to tell. Either Vrill with the early days or Pasha with the ancient ones. Sometimes Vashanna would explain what she'd found in the latest scroll or sometimes Simon would talk about the stories he used to be told about his own family. And then, there were the sleeping arrangements. At night, Vashanna would spin Vrill exactly in the middle of the doorway to the next room and leave. She'd come back at morning, rested and ready. Simon thought to ask her about it, but wondered at the forwardness of the question.

The time passed quickly. Simon got up and around on makeshift crutches, helping as he could. He went out and harvested some of the edible fruits and nuts that Vashanna had found nearby. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he could tell something was watching him. But when he turned to confront it, it was gone.

"I think there's something out there watching us," Simon said over dinner one night, "When I was collecting these mango thingies, I turned and almost caught it before it bounced back into the bushes."

Vashanna stopped her eating and looked at him. The candlelight flickered quietly on the table between them. It wasn't exactly apprehension at being watched that lit on her face...More like, relief.

"You've seen it too?" she asked.

"Where'd you see it?" he asked.

"One night before you came, I looked out the front door from my desk and saw a pair of eyes looking back at me," she quietly said as she looked out the door, "I don't know what kind of eyes they were, but there was some definite intelligence behind them. I went for Pasha and it disappeared."

-So THAT was what bothered you that night,- Pasha intoned, - Honestly Vashanna, you should have told me.-

-And what, pray tell, would you have done about it, Sparky?- Vrill barked.

"That's enough, both of you," Simon said, "Now, there's something out there that seems to be intent on watching us..."

Simon thought for a minute.

"No, maybe not *us*," he thought out loud, "Vashanna, I don't mean to pry when I ask this, but where do you sleep?"

Vashanna let a half-smirk show on her face before picking at her food again.

-I don't think I like the line of these questions, young human,- Pasha said softly.

"No, it's alright Pasha," she said, "I think I know where you're going with this...I sleep out at the wreck site. It's dry and the animals don't seem to bother any of it..."

"None?"

Vashanna shook her head. Simon thought about the ramifications of that, but let it drop for the moment.

"When you go to sleep at the site, do you ever have that watched feeling?"

She shook her head again.

"Nah, didn't think so," Simon huffed, "What that means is you've built this place on someone else's land. And that's the person or thing that's been watching us."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked.

"I have no idea, really," Simon said, "But I don't think so. He could've attacked me any *number* of times and he didn't. He could've attacked you and he didn't. No. I think he's almost as curious of us as we are of him."

"Curiosity not only killed the cat," Vashanna sighed, "It cleaned it, stuffed it and mounted it on the wall with a plaque that reads, 'Fluffy'."

The men, animate and inanimate, chuckled nervously.

"Really, I don't think we should worry until it does something," Simon picked at his food again, "I mean, it's already proven that it can hide from us quite proficiently, so confronting it only puts us in harms way."

-He *might* have a point, m'lady...- Pasha said softly.

Vashanna gave her blade a sharp look.

-I just think there should be something more we could do than sit around on our butts...- Vrill sighed.

"We wait, Vrill," Simon resumed eating, "We wait and we get better and then Vrill, you and I resume our quest."

Vashanna started at this. He was just going to go? This person, this *human* that she'd nursed back to health was just going to up and leave? She bristled lightly at his use of her, but she kept it quiet...For now...

More days passed and the weather deepened its grip on the summer months. The quicksands dried hard as stone, forever entombing those buried there. Simon limped gingerly around those graves as he didn't like to think about the dead at his feet. Especially since they weren't human. He did, however, respect them. Vashanna hadn't been eager to teach him the burial customs, but was glad that he wanted to respect her clan properly. She still had doubts that she could trust him. But even with his strength back, the old saying didn't really apply to her. She could still chuck him a mile...

Simon bowed slightly at the grave of Vashanna's father. Vrill also mumbled in elven. He hadn't known any of the Naelyn clan, but had a respect for all the clans, being a former elf himself. Simon just wanted to make up for not doing more earlier, despite his injury. He also supposed that it might look bad to leave as soon as he was healed. Like he was cutting and running, or whatever. That wasn't the case at all; he just thought that the scrolls, however powerful they were, had no secrets left to give. She'd read them all, literally. Even the gold and gemstone ones, the ones that got her here. She'd read every single one of them and not one held a greater answer. And yet, she insisted to Simon that there was something that she missed. Something in the translation, or mistranslation of the dialects, or something else.

Simon shook his head as he limped up the small hill toward the large tent. Diesel from the Piper Cub had seeped into the ground and they had to air the thing out in order to even go inside. Simon sighed. She insisted on sleeping at the site, even with his assurance that both the blades would make sure he was a good boy. There was just no trusting a human, he supposed.

"Vashanna," he called out.

He looked around and spotted her coming out of the smaller tent to the north. A scroll trailed behind her. Ever since he'd awoke, she had been dragging scrolls back to the wreck site. Apparently not able to keep her mind on her work, she seemed to prefer the scrolls to his company. It was another reason he wanted to move out as soon as he could. So he could let her get back to her work without distraction. She walked around the tent to the larger pile of wreckage behind it. Simon took off after her as best he could. She was using the burned out hulks of the family cars in which to store the scrolls. With the windows rolled up, they provided a vermin free zone that she could keep indefinitely. A line of sweat broke out on his head as he marched down the little valley between the tents. He paused at the bottom and huffed a couple breaths.

Simon was walking without the crutches, but only barely. Pain still shot through his leg at every step and if he took it too far, one of them would need to use a healing spell to get the swelling to go down. The spell itself wasn't all that taxing and was quite simple, but the larger the injury to heal, the more power required. He bent down as the wind stopped around him. He found it hard to take a breath and...

And...

His hand went to his chest. It was gone. Simon stood up and pulled his shirt off. Totally gone. The key! It was the first time in over a month that he'd even thought about it, but it was GONE! Simon frantically looked around, but it was nowhere in sight. He stopped and tried to calm down. When was the last time he *actually* remembered having it? In the barrel at sea. Did he have it when he passed out? Yes. Did he have it when he woke up? He...He didn't remember. His memory was so fuzzy and the pain in his leg was so great that he just didn't remember. He HAD to remember. He just...couldn't...

A noise behind him made him turn back to the big tent. There was a small, black shape nosing about the entrance. He couldn't easily make it out at that distance, but it kind of looked like either a small dog or perhaps a bird? He couldn't tell. Larger than a chicken, but smaller than a breadbox. Who the Hell cared what it-

The creature lifted its head and spotted Simon. The two stared at each other and Simon didn't move. To Simon, it was as if the creature knew that famous line from Clint Eastwood. It looked at Simon and Simon looked right back. 'Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya'...PUNK!'. The creature let out a blistering howl and charged down the hill at Simon, who began to back away. His bad leg wouldn't move fast enough and Simon tripped over it in his effort to escape the beast, which had already closed the wide distance between them. It jumped and landed flat against Simon's chest, knocking him to the ground. Simon brought his shirt up just in time to keep the beast from gnawing off his face. The material bunched together in the jaws of the beast and Simon worked it back and forth to keep the creature from snapping it. Absently, he noted that this critter had a huge beak, almost a third the length of its body. As if that wasn't bad enough, the beak was filled with the razor sharp teeth that were munching away at cotton blend. Both tried to get to their feet, but got tangled in one another and fell down again. The creature was bipedal, standing on what looked like the legs of a chicken. The dirty black feathers-The dream! This was the creature from the dream! Certainly not as large, but it was definitely the same one!

Anger built up in Simon. Whatever this *thing* was, it haunted him for too many nights. It looked like a vicious bastard, but the hurt in his leg and the pounding this thing gave made Simon want to fight that much more. He lashed out against the side of its...head...area. The creature bleated once and rolled to a standing crouch before launching another attack. Simon was ready for him. He'd seen this move in Rumble in the Bronx. He spun the tattered shirt around his wrist and caught the creature square in the jaw, gumming up its teeth as they were before. This time, Simon wrapped the rest of the shirt around its head. Simon pulled the shirt taut and tied it with a knot on top. Simon rolled on top of it and pinned it down, trying to get hold of the feet. He managed to grab one leg and the creature stopped its struggles. Both huffed and tried to catch their breath. Simon could examine the creature now and saw what he was afraid was the truth. He knew what the creature was and unfortunately what it meant for this new place. It was a creature called a Shantak. Bird-steeds of the One that Shall Not be Named. Which also meant that He was probably in this world as well.

Sensing defeat, the little creature began to bleat plaintively. Simon remembered the writings of his great-granduncle and looked around quickly. This thing surely was just a child. But what the Hell could he do? The moment he let go, the shantak would either attack him or run, which would most likely bring the larger adults. A chuckle ran through Simon and the shantak stopped bleating as if to ask what was humorous. He let go, very slowly and sat up on his knees. It hurt his leg a little, but for the opportunity to get out alive, it was worth a little pain. The shantak lay still as the two eyed each other. It was stalemate. Simon began to get up to back away when he felt a cool hand on his back. He jumped and spun. Vashanna jumped back, startled and Simon cursed his luck. Seeing a chance, the young shantak rolled to its feet and Simon turned in time to get caught right in the stomach. They rolled a little ways, each jockeying for position. Vashanna yelled something, but Simon could only concentrate on the bundle of fun in his hands. The shantak jumped upward to avoid a lunge by Simon and landed on Simon's head, knocking him silly. Simon gasped as lights pinged and zipped around his eyes. He tried to gather himself and shot a glance toward the shantak.

Simon had fought it back against a pair of graves and the little shantak was terrified to retreat anymore and unwilling to give in to a potential predator in Simon. Cornered. Great. Simon backed off a bit and stared at the little bird-steed again. Seeing stalemate again, the shantak bleated more. Simon dared a glance to his left and noticed the bushes rumbling across the plain from the graves. Bigger shantaks. Maybe even momma. Simon sighed. His luck just NEVER changes. He heard the thump of feet on the ground behind him and was about to dive out of the way when he saw it was Vashanna running at him! She had Pasha raised for a kill strike on the shantak! No! That would...

Simon didn't think as he picked up the little creature and shielded it from the strike. Vashanna screamed and tried to pull her swing. She didn't pull it enough and Simon yelped at the gash she opened up in his back. Tears of pain fell on the little shantak, who was too stunned by this action to react. Beyond the two graves, two very large shantaks stepped from the clearing and bellowed an angry answer. Vashanna raised Pasha and moved between them and Simon, frightened by the sight of the huge bird-steeds. The little shantak that Simon held made no more sound. It didn't struggle as Simon unwrapped its head. He hefted it in his arms and tried to stand.

"Simon!" Vashanna was panicked, "Drop the little bastard and I can take him with one-"

"No..." Simon choked through tears.

The shantaks weren't evil. He always thought that the ones in the stories were evil but that was a skewed point of view. They were animals. Certainly more intelligent than any domesticated beast, but animals still. They took care of their own, even at the expense of their own lives. Simon didn't want to give them a reason to do that. His breath became ragged and shallow as the cut across his back opened more. He walked, step by agonizing step, between the graves and approached the older shantaks. They flapped and squawked and made a stinking mess out of the area, but would come no closer since Simon held the young one. The little shantak, for its part, made no more bleats and rested in Simon's arms, like some worn out puppy.

Pain seared through Simon as he knelt to let it go. As soon as he released the bird-steed, the older ones charged, only to be brought up short by the littlest one barking commands in a toned down key to its elders. The older shantaks backed up and clearly let Simon win the day. He was suddenly so tired. He'd come out to ask Vashanna a simple question and ended up with another damned wound. Like he was a trophy-case or something...

Simon turned and made it halfway to the other side of the graves before his legs gave out. He noticed that, had this been any other time of year, he'd he sinking in it right now. That brought a slight chuckle to him as he passed out, face down in the dry sand. Vashanna watched in horror as the largest shantak sniffed out a path through the graves, led obviously by the smell of Simon's blood. She tried to reach him and drag him out her side, but the shantak got to him first. Warning her off with a high, wheedling growl, the shantak gently picked up Simon's good leg in its mouth and began to drag him back to the others.

"I just got him healed!" Vashanna yelled, "You're not getting him without a fight!"

-We shall save him, Vashanna,- Pasha yelled, -Just follow my lead and we'll dine on chicken tonight!-

Vashanna thought a dozen moves out and moved to jump. She crouched as the shantak pulled him to the little one that Simon had. What the Hell was he thinking, protecting that damned thing? She was so frustrated at that stupid human she had half a mind to let the creatures have him. But there was something else. Something that she was trying to hide from him. Something she was trying to hide from herself. Vashanna's heart sank as she heard the same wheedling growl by her right ear. Half turning in her crouch, two large shantaks had come out of the woods behind her and another medium bird-steed moved to the place she'd planned to land. She was outflanked and cornered. That was it. She was done. Vashanna sagged as the realization hit her that it was all over, she be killed, along with the human by these beasts. The tears fell naturally then as she looked toward Simon.

The littlest shantak examined the wound on his back and bleated something. The largest one barked back and tromped to a position behind Simon. It placed a huge claw on his lower back, effectively pinning him in place. It leaned to the wound and a long, thin, pink tongue extended from the huge maw. It licked the wound a couple time and Vashanna closed her eyes. He'd become a companion. A friend. And she didn't want to watch him get eaten. She dropped Pasha, who remained speechless. She cried freely as she thought of his odd, human sense of humor. His funny hair and his short...cute...ears...Her sobs cried out to the sun that was setting over the hills beyond.

-Lady Naelyn!- Pasha cried excitedly, -Look! I...He...My God!-

Vashanna didn't want to look. Pasha may have wanted Simon to fight, but she knew that he wasn't fully healed yet and between the struggle with the little shantak and the old wound, she knew he was just done. The tears came freely and the sobs shook her. She hadn't wanted to like him. The man was stubborn about his leg injury. He wouldn't keep still and let his own body work; he wouldn't eat the herbals that Vashanna prepared just because they tasted bad. She'd eventually had to trick him. There was a groan from his direction, which drew more sobs from Vashanna. There were so many things about his personality that really sucked...

-Vashanna!- Pasha cried, -They're NOT killing him!-

Huh?

Vashanna paused in her grief and looked up. The largest shantak was still licking the same spot on Simon's back, but the wound had closed and it looked like it had been healed for a week. The shantaks were healing him? Why? Vashanna forced her legs under and sprinted a couple yards toward him, but was brought up short as the shantaks moved between them, squawking menacingly, their voices like claws on ground glass.

"No..."

The shantaks stopped their menacing and turned to Simon's limp form. The shantak stepped off Simon and let the littlest one come forward. Simon struggled to bring himself to his knees. It felt like a fire in his shoulder, but it was slowly going out. Simon finally made it to his hands and knees and waited, gasped in shallow breaths. What were the shantaks waiting for? If they were bound to eat him...Movement at his right drew his vision. It was the littlest. The one he saved from Vashanna's blade. It nuzzled Simon's arm and piped in quick, quiet chirps, sounding nonesomuch to Simon like a glass celesta. Simon smiled a weary smile and looked up toward Vashanna. She was in tears. Every time she moved toward him, the shantaks cut her off with menacing growls, but didn't really seem intent on harming her. That was good.

In one last supreme effort, Simon reached his feet. He walked in shaky steps until he reached Vashanna. He thought that the bird- steeds might try to keep them apart, but then bowed before him as he struggled to cover the small distance. Simon closed his eyes as he stopped before her and he could hear the remnants of her sobs die on her lips. She had cried for him. When she thought it was the end, she had cried for him. Simon didn't know what to say, or even, given his current circumstances, he *could* have said anything, but he desperately wanted to hold her. He opened his eyes and raised his arms as best he could. She rushed into his arms and realized why he wanted it so badly. It would have been nice to say there was an outrushing of love or something such as that between them, but Simon knew better. His legs weren't going to hold him up for much longer. He smirked at the thought. He needed her support all right, but because he couldn't stand up.

Vashanna had a thousand myriad thoughts racing through her mind. Her amazement at the healing powers of shantak tongue, the friends that Simon seemed to have made of the bird-steeds through his own selfless act, and many more. She had questions, but they'd wait for another day. She had her friend, if not well, at least alive. She looked down at Simon as she lowered him to the ground and smiled. He returned a weak smile. She cried more as she held him. His personality really sucked sometime, yeah...But he was HER friend...And that's what was important...She held him tighter.

"Please don't cry," he said softly, "I'll be okay...We've got, um...Guests..."

Vashanna looked around as the assembled brood raised their head and crowed out as the first stars appeared in the darkening blue sky.

Joshua "Gargoyle" Trujillo "Stone Cold Protector of the Righteous"

Wanna take a ride?

Moving fast to beat the devil, Arms too short to box with God.

Time counts and keeps countin'