The encounter with Jewell in the inn was raping Skyler?s mind.

Tormented and beleaguered, he spent most of the next few days pacing. He scarcely ate and rarely slept. A few moments of rest were all he could snag before jolting awake.

Mostly he drank. There was this potion . . . it was called vodka. Skyler found he had an affinity for it. When he consumed the beverage, it was like embracing an old friend. It agreed with him, numbing many of his hideous emotions.

Late one night, he wandered the Marketplace by the light of the moon. He held his sword in one hand, the naked steel shimmering faintly. In the other hand he clutched a bottle. The boy staggered over the cobblestones, making drunken hacks and slashes with his sword and taking swigs of vodka. All the while he muttered to himself, his face a distorted mask of confusion.

?I loved you very much.? Skyler whispered those words over and over, as if repeating them would make them less haunting, less tormenting, or enable him to understand. They had actually come off her lips, those words. He hadn?t hallucinated. That one simple sentence spun his imagination in many directions.

The arrogant sexual side of him said, ?So you loved me very much, Jewell? Then you wouldn?t mind if I steal into your darkened bedroom as you sleep, place my hand on your shoulder, wake you with a kiss. You wouldn?t mind if I pull back your blankets and descend upon you with ravenous desire, filling your head with so much pounding euphoria that you can?t decide if you?re awake or dreaming!? He wanted so badly to say those words to her. If he could find her again he would. That exciting fantasy kept him in anguish. How he longed to enact it! Like any teenage boy, he allowed unfettered, shameless fantasies about women to occupy too many of his thoughts. But when something like this happened ? an event as surreal as this beautiful Jewell appearing and disclosing that she had loved him, revealing that it was she who had given him the fancy sword, then vanishing like a phantom into the night ? it fueled his young mind with too much concupiscent fodder for him to ignore. He pictured her lying there as he tore back the blankets, her eyes flying open, her hair in drowsy disarray, her limbs splayed out across the fluffy white sheets in some sexy feminine sprawl. His mind dressed her in a short sleeping gown, midnight blue, the hem barely reaching down to her thighs. It was low-cut, and the white flesh of her chest was the brightest point in the darkness, and he could see it rise and fall with increasingly rapid breath as she anticipated his descent. But first he would look at her, drink her in with lustful eyes, his mouth falling open, lips wet, long pretty shiny black hair framing his face . . .

The insecure side of him said, ?So you loved me very much? How? I?m just a pathetic boy with a sword and a bad attitude. I?m so rough around the edges it?s not possible to love me. Too many flaws.?

And of course, the confused and afraid side of him begged, ?So you loved me very much, Jewell? Then tell me what happened! I?m strong. I?m ready to hear it. Tell me about my past, Jewell. Tell about you and me. Tell me why I got a shiver down my spine when my eyes first fell upon you. Why could I sense you easing down the bar in my direction? Tell me why our encounter in the inn felt more like some fairytale reverie than a typical conversation.?

?Enough!? With all these tormenting thoughts and feelings stewing inside of him like poison, Skyler drank down the last bit of vodka and chucked the bottle across the Marketplace. It sailed in a high arc. He watched it plummet through the air and shatter upon the stones.

Then, as his eyes lifted from where the bottle smashed, he noticed a tent in that corner of the market, a slit of eerie light glowing from the entrance flap. He stumbled toward it like a bug attracted to a bright lamp. Mesmerized, he stretched out his sword and used the tip to shift the flap aside. Purple light bathed his pale face, and his eyes grew wide.

?. . . soothsayer??

A figure in a cloak bent over a low table, head bowed so Skyler couldn?t see its face. The table had a glistening crystal ball atop it, and it filled the tent with pervasive lavender light. The skin of the boy?s face and arms, normally pale and creamy, now glowed purple. The rest of the tent brimmed with trinkets and charms. There were so many objects in such a small area that Skyler began to suffer ?sensory overload? as his drunken eyes scanned the mystic stock and trade. Statues and figurines lined the high shelves; vials with bubbling brews and throbbing pastel potions adorned the lower ones. Supernatural tracks and tomes sat in stacks in dusty trunks. There was almost no vacant space, except for the small low table over which the soothsayer bowed. This table was clear of everything except for the magical ball. Otherwise, every inch of storage area was covered with talismans, amulets, wands, etc.

Abruptly the head of the cloaked figure lifted and a white face appeared. The sudden appearance of that face was as shocking as the face of a ghost in the ruined window of a haunted house. It was an old woman with deep wrinkles, looking close to the end of her endurance. Her eyes rolled crazily, showing arcs of white.

?Come,? she croaked.

Skyler did. He sat on the short stool across from her at the table. Nervously he tightened his grip on his sword.

?Ten silver nobles,? she said, ?to answer all the questions antagonizing your young, fragile mind.?

Skyler obliged without a moment?s hesitation. He had many questions; he needed to find peace. He needed to be free of the woman haunting him, of the memories of the past at his fingertips that he was too afraid to learn. He fished some silver pieces from his pocket and slid them across the table. The old woman shoveled them into a pouch that she quickly made disappear into the folds of her robe.

?What do you remember, before your life with the spider??

?How do you know about her?? he asked.

The old woman stretched forth a gnarled, tree bark-like hand and made some gestures atop the crystal ball. Skyler?s face appeared in the glass. The image zoomed out and showed Sonia looming over his shoulder.

?. . . so you?re just a spy? You watch people with this ball? Is that the extent of your powers??

The soothsayer cackled. ?The ball is but a medium which shows the images in my mind to you and other guests. It is me who conducts the extrasensory perception, it is me who sees and interprets.?

?How much of my situation have you . . . monitored??

?All.?

?Why? Why so much interest in me??

?Because your psychic signature shines like the sun. When something momentous happens to you, all other images in my ethereal realm fade away. Now, tell me what you remember before your life with the spider.?

?Not much,? he said distantly. ?There was a place?a horrible place that was full of pain and sadness and misery and lack of reason.?

?That is a place from which no one ever returns. It?s eternal damnation.?

?How did I escape it??

?There is only one explanation.? The soothsayer?s crazy white eyes fixated on him.

?Yes . . .?!?

?Immortality.?

?Lies!? Skyler?s lips drew back from his teeth and he snarled at her.

?It can be proven.? She gestured again at the crystal ball, and there was an image of Skyler enclosed in a ring of combat, his sword outstretched, an opponent across from him. ?This was six years ago . . . four years before you died. Notice anything??

He shook his head.

?How old are you??

?Eighteen.?

?You don?t look twelve years old in this image, do you??

?What are you saying?? This came out weakly, because he already knew. If the image was in fact from six years ago ? a notion in which he had no doubt because he certainly hadn?t fought any opponent in a ring in his current timeline of conscious memory ? he would surely appear much younger than he currently looked.

?You?ve been eighteen years old for the last six years, or as long as you?ve been in this place we call Rhy?Din. You don?t age. You rise from the Underworld. You are immortal. It may have happened in your transference to this realm from the Nexus.?

?What the hell is a nexus??

?The magical anomaly that pervades the universe, altering and changing people and places in seemingly random patterns.?

Skyler didn?t want to hear any of this. He pressed his eyes closed and shook his head, as if blocking out her words. He changed the subject. ?Who was the woman in the Inn? Why did she love me? Why am I afraid to hear the truth about my previous life? I could have asked her, and she would have told me. But I was so afraid, as if the story would be poisonous to my ears and change me if I heard it.?

The soothsayer answered. ?Her name is Jewell Ravenlock.? As she said the name, Jewell?s face appeared in the crystal ball ? beautiful, enchanting, vibrant. Yet there was a hint of forlornness behind her eyes, as if she had been subject to one too many overly taxing dramas, like a grievous death or a lost love. ?Perhaps the reason you?re afraid to hear is because you sense it?s not a happy tale. It may in fact be detrimental for you to hear, but is that worse than the anguish you?re suffering from not knowing??

Skyler gazed raptly at Jewell?s image, ignoring the soothsayer?s question.

?Now I have something to ask,? the old woman said. ?What will you do, knowing that you?re immortal??

Skyler?s had had enough. Red-hot fury seethed in him. ?You mean?what will I do, knowing that I?m DAMNED?? His sword flashed in the purple light. He slapped his forearm down on the table and brought the sharp edge of the blade down on it, hard. A red line appeared on his skin. In seconds blood began to surge. ?See, you fool, I?m bleeding. I can die. I?m not immortal. I?m not a vampire or a fairy or a wizard, you crazy old hag. I?m just a guy.?

She watched the display, unimpressed. ?You can be hurt, but you?ll never age. And if you die, from the dust you will return.?

?LIES! I?M A HUMAN BEING!? He slammed his fist on the table. The crystal ball shimmered and Jewell?s face dissipated into a thousand points of light.

Skyler rushed out of the tent, gripping the sword?s hilt so tightly it trembled. Warm blood oozed down his left forearm, flowing over his knuckles and dripping from the tips of his fingers. Sulkily he went to the fountain, knelt, and dipped his arm into the cold pool. As the water began to turn murky crimson, the boy lowered his head onto the edge of the fountain and considered what he had been told.

?Jewell, she thinks I?m immortal. Nonsense. I?d get too bored with everything. Who would want to live forever? I don?t have the mentality for it. I?d lose my mind. You know better, don?t you? Tell me she?s full of lies.? His eyes closed and the cut stopped bleeding after a while. He lingered there at the edge of the fountain, arm dangling in the blood-stained water. ?You?re probably cozy and safe right now, somewhere warm and sane, surrounded by loved ones. And you should be. I?ll war with these demons a while longer and see if I can come to terms. Hopefully I?ll have my head straight by the next time I see you.?