Chapter 1

Prologue: Welsh highlands, 64 C.E.

The gloom of encroaching night did little to mask the expressions of abject hopelessness. The twenty seven women waited silently before the well, each immersed in her own thoughts - each as still as the stones, which warded the circle.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the dense fog dispersed, gradually revealing the form of a man seated upon the rim of the well.

Though none uttered a sound, the women were startled at the appearance of their mate. All were equally certain that the circle had been empty when they arrived. While their outward demeanor remained unchanged, all experienced an invigorating thrill - as if a great burden had been lifted from their backs.

He began to speak in such a manner that, while his words were clearly audible to his wives, nothing could be heard beyond the standing stones.

"With the death of our great queen, the clans are in total disarray. Petty feuding over disputed lands, and honors, has displaced any sense of unity - leaving the Blessed Isle to be looted by the Roman scum. With the exception of our Scoti cousins, and our own bowmen, the Legions are left unhindered in their occupation. They have rebuilt their fortifications at Lundinium and Aquae Sulis. The lure of Roman gold, combined with their unity, will ultimately destroy our way of life.

Having consulted with the priests, I've made the decision to withdraw to a place of warding - a place where we can bide our time, conserve our culture and religion, and begin preparing our descendants for the time when the world has forgotten us. We must do everything possible to provide our children with the best education and martial skills available.

The priests have had a vision - they foresee a time of great darkness before us, during which an evil foreign religion will displace the true faith. This vile sect will destroy the equality between men and women, reducing our shield maidens to the status of servants. It will teach that the pleasures of the flesh are wicked, thereby perverting our people into twisted shadows of their former selves.

But, no matter how long the night, dawn will eventually arrive. Though the priests have foreseen a time of many centuries before the insanity subsides, they have also glimpsed the arrival of one who will restore our sacred groves, returning our goddess to her rightful place in the hearts of her people. He will be known as Flameblade, champion of the eternal flame - defender of the faith. He will be descended directly from the loins of one of you - I know not which.

Gather your kin and enjoin them to silence - none must know of our departure, or destination, lest traitor tongue wags for the Roman masters. The priests have assembled a collection of manuscripts and two Greek tutors who escaped from a slave galley. A select group of the most promising men and women from the priests' ranks will accompany us. They will bring the Flame from the shrine at Bride's Tor."

At this point, one of the women raised an eyebrow.

"Yes Rhiannon?"

"Are we to have no contact at all with the outside world?"

"We will eventually train a group, who will forage beyond our borders... to keep abreast of the advances made in knowledge and languages. Any more questions?"

Silence.

"Are we all united in this? Do any of you want to remain behind?"

Silence.

"In that case, let us be on our way. We have much to do in preparation, and are to meet up with the priests near Dragon's Reach, in a fortnight's time."

Interlude ; Freehold, Upper Wales, 1989 C.E.

The Shade remained perfectly still. So perfect was her discipline, so well did she blend with her surroundings, that the two running children never knew she was there. Curious, as to why the children were yelling for the priests, she glided along in their wake - making less noise than a passing breeze.

Arriving at the grove, she was in time to hear one of the children gasp, "The babe, someone's stolen the babe!"

The priests remained calm, as one of them asked, "What babe child? Calm down and explain yourself."

"You know - THE BABE! - the one everybody thinks is HIM!"

The priest gasped. 'Don't let it be', she silently prayed, 'all our hopes and dreams are focused on him, this is horrendous.'

At this point, the Shade put off discipline - seeming to materialize out of thin air. "May I serve, reverend one?"

"Oh! Thank the Goddess for your presence Maera. Did you hear what little Fiona just said?"

"Yes reverend one. If true, we have no time to waste. The spoor grows cold as we speak. What is your will?"

"Go at once to the Llewellyn home. If little Daevlyn is truly gone, assemble your team. That baby is now your only priority. Do whatever it takes. You have our full confidence. If he's been abducted, get him back! Make sure that the person, or persons, responsible become intimately acquainted with our displeasure. Make the dying very slow and painful. You and your team are, from now on, the instrument of that child's destiny. Give oath!"

Dropping to her knee, the Shade intoned, "I, Maera ap Dafys, Shadow Master of the Dragon's Blood, hear and obey. My life, my will, and my sacred honor are hereforth bound in perpetuity to the well being of Daevlyn Brigand O'Rourke - The Flameblade - this I avow before all assembled."

"Done, now and forever - we bear witness!", chanted the priests.

The Shade departed silently - it was her twelfth birthday.

Caernarvon, County Gwynedd, Upper Wales - 1989 C.E.

The Shade carefully checked her flanks. 'Good, ' she thought, 'they're all in place.' Responding to her hand signals, the team took up position around the small stone cottage, and froze in place. Her chest expanded with pride at their perfect discipline. Even she - an accomplished Adept - could barely discern their presence in the gathering dusk. It was time. Silently, she slid into position beside an open window. Patiently, she listened to the conversation taking place inside. "Sassons!", she hissed inaudibly. "Wretched spawn of faithless invaders. Vile, baby-snatching, refuse - degenerate offspring of polluted bloodlines, your doom is at hand."

Had an observer been able to see her, it would have appeared that she simply 'flowed' over the sill - a black-clad shadow that emitted no sound to indicate its presence.

The peace of the evening was abruptly shattered by pain-filled screams, and the team leapt into action. To the terrified occupants, it seemed that a veritable swarm of deadly black forms had materialized from thin air, right before their eyes. Not that they had much attention to spare for the newest arrivals, as they were too busy retreating from the pain-inflicting hands of their tormentor.

"It's the 'Angel of Death'!" screamed one, of the two men - Maera's smile, sending a message of divine retribution that was unmistakable to anyone who observed it.

"The babe!", she hissed. "Quickly, where is he?"

"What baby?", he cried. "We don't know anything about any baby!"

"Oh good", she crooned. "I was hoping you would adopt an attitude of innocence. It's going to be a very long night for you two."

Lightning struck again, and the screaming continued through the night.

The team paused atop a small rise and watched, as flames erupted from the cottage roof - the sound of sirens approaching from the distance.

"It's a good thing the place is so isolated." said Maera. I would have hated wasting our time, disposing of the bodies. The fire is such an easy solution."

"Is it to be Holyhead then Strike Leader?", asked Fiona Trevethyn.

"Of course, you heard what they said. The woman wanted to find passage for the 'States' as soon as possible. She's anxious to collect the money from that couple in Texas. It's hard to believe that anyone would pay a hundred thousand dollars for a baby."

"It's really sad, when you think about.", said Fiona.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Maera

"I mean that it's really tragic, that those people are so desperate for a son they'd lay out a small fortune to obtain one. Why wouldn't they just foster an orphan? Surely it would be much cheaper."

"Have you forgotten our lessons in outsider customs. Their adoption laws are so screwed up that it's nearly impossible to get a child through any legal means. Thousands of babies are trapped in the system until they become adults. Almost none of them ever get free while they're still little, but time's wasting - the dawn's almost upon us. Let's be off to redeem our little kinsman."

Holyhead, Isle of Anglesey, Wales - 1989 C.E.

"Damn, Damn, and Damn!" raged Maera. "She's eluded us. We have no choice now, but to return to Freehold and get ready for a trip to Texas. If memory serves correctly, there's a Shadow Base on the outskirts of Austin that was established just after the War of Texas Independence. The Shades there can supply us with contacts, and provide support. Damn, Damn, Damn!"

"That's a lot of damns, Strike Leader."

"Put a jockstrap in it Trevethyn!"

Interlude; Freehold, Upper Wales - 1989 C.E.

"What tidings, reverend one?", the man inquired.

"Nothing good, Dragon Chieftain, nothing good.", the priest replied. "Maera and her team are well settled in, but the prey has gone to ground. She's undoubtedly received word of the chastisement meted out to her cohorts, and the spoor has gone cold. We must abide in patience now, though it grieves us to do so. Please pass on our heartfelt sorrow to the boy's mother. We share her pain, though I doubt that will bring much comfort. We are prepared to wait as long as is needed. The wretched creature will surface eventually, only to find Maera waiting for her - retribution in hand."

"My thanks, reverend one. Needless to say, The Clan stands ever ready, to provide whatever support you may require from us."

"I never doubted it for a minute, kinsman, never for a minute.", she replied.

Midland, Texas - 1992 to 2002 C.E. Shadow Base, Austin, Texas - 2001, 2002 C.E.

"How's the boy?", the highway patrolman asked.

"It's a fucking miracle!" the paramedic replied. "Aside from a few cuts and bruises, he's fine. I've treated worse injuries when one of my own kids fell off her bicycle. How in hell did he ever come out of that alive?"

We can only guess that he must have been thrown clear when the car began to roll. The fire was blazing out of control when we arrived, and the boy was laying in the median - about forty feet away. Hell, we didn't even see him till he started hollering for his mom and dad."

"Have you got an ID on them yet?"

"Are you kidding? There's nothing but ashes in there. I've never seen anything burn that hot before, and I've seen a lot of burning wrecks. You'd think they were carrying a load of magnesium flares - even the license plates were melted into unrecognizable blobs. What about the boy? Has he told you his name?"

"No, I'm not even sure he knows it. He's only about two or three, and kids that age get called a lot of 'cute' little pet names. We did find some sort of medallion around his neck, though. It's a dragon circled by some kind of Celtic knotwork. It has the name "Daevlyn Brigand O'Rourke" inscribed on the back, and some sort of inscription in a language that I don't recognize. We'll take him to the hospital, for overnight observation but, other than that, there's nothing else we can do for him."

"Poor kid.", the officer sighed. "Reckon it'll be foster care for him, if nobody comes forward to claim him."

The medic just shook his head, he'd treated too many "accidents" in child welfare homes to have any doubts about what was in store for the boy.

Midland, Texas - 1993 C.E.

The boy stood silent before the woman, his hands on his hips and maintaining a stance that was a blatant statement of youthful rebellion.

"You disgusting, wicked little beast!", she screeched. "You're nothing but a pagan sinner, in fact I think that'll be your name from now on. Pagan is what you are, and "Pagan" is who you'll be until you change your ways and start going to church. Three foster homes in the last year! THREE! And that poor MR. Thomas, he almost bled to death after you bit a hunk out of his leg. And the lies you told about that good Christian man. I can't believe you claimed that he tried to do those perverted things! Why, he's a pillar of the community, not a wicked sinner like you. Well, speak up - what do you think of your new name, "Pagan"?"

"I think it's neat.", he replied with a grin on his face. "It's the best name I've ever heard. Nobody else has a name like that. I don't think I'll answer to anything else, ever again."

"I give up!", she ranted. "Have it your own way you little imp from Hell."

"I will.", he replied.

Midland, Texas - 1997 C.E.

"Pagan!", the nurse whispered. "Pagan, wake up sweetheart."

Pagan opened one eye, the other was swollen shut and badly bruised.

"Oh, hi Mrs. Murphy.", he whispered. He smiled, and his split lip reopened. "What time is it?"

"It's really late, honey. I just came on shift and, when I heard you were back in here, I just had to pop in for a minute to see you. Oh, Pagan what're we going to do with you child? What happened this time?"

"OH, you know - same old same old.", he teased.

"Oh, please don't make light of it. It just isn't right, the way they treat you kids - something needs to be done about it!"

"Nothing to be done, ma'am - they've got too much pull in the right places. It's just bad 'Karma', I reckon. I figure us kids must have done something really terrible in our past lives, and now it's time to 'pay the fiddler'."

Mary Murphy broke down and ran from the room - tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Where've you been off to?", asked her best friend, and fellow RN, Sally Tyler.

"I've just been in to see Pagan.", Mary replied. "Oh Sally, it just breaks my heart - seeing him like that."

"Did you hear what happened?", Sally asked, with the air of someone bearing important news.

"No, what? Mary asked.

"I just got off the phone with Mary Ellen from the men's ward. She called right after you wandered off. It seems they have a new patient up there, with a shattered kneecap and three broken ribs. Guess who he is."

"I have no idea.", Mary said. "Who is he?"

"Pagan's new foster daddy! Mary Ellen said the cops want to question him real bad. Seems like Pagan heard one the girls screaming and ran into her room, just in time to see good old dad ripping her panties off. He'd grabbed a baseball bat when he heard the screams and lost no time raining on dad's parade. She said this particular pair of cops had heard rumors about the guy, and had already listened to the little girl's story. Ain't that a hoot?"

"Oh, that little angel!" Mary exclaimed. "He's a real live hero."

"You got that right girlfriend.", Sally quipped.

Midland, Texas - 1999 C.E.

"Where'd he go?" yelled the cop.

"Hell, I don't know.", his partner replied. "I was inside with you, if you'll recall. How did a ten year old kid slip out of a pair of handcuffs, and get out of a locked patrol car? I mean, I'd heard he was 'spooky' - just not to this degree."

"I heard THAT!" his partner returned

Neither man heard the soft giggles that came from around the corner.

'It's payback time', Pagan thought, as he ran down the street.

WHAM!

"What on earth was that?", queried an anxious caseworker, as she ran out into the hall.

"I don't know.", replied one of her male colleagues, "but it came from in there."

He pointed at the bathroom door, just as water began pouring from beneath it.

They rushed into the room and were stunned by the sight which greeted their eyes.

Broken chunks of porcelain littered the floor of the stalls, the doors were hanging half off their hinges, and water was gushing from broken pipes.

"That little bastard!", the woman shrieked. "That dirty little bastard - he's gone too far this time."

Quite a crowd had gathered by this time, and one of the newcomers jumped in.

"You wouldn't be referring to Pagan O'Rourke, by any chance, would you?" she asked.

"Of course I'm talking about Pagan O'Rourke! Who else would have the criminal genius to pull off a stunt like this?". the angry caseworker replied.

"I just asked, because the police have him in custody.", the newcomer said. "They called about an hour ago to let us know they were bringing him back."

"No they don't.", a new voice chipped in. "The desk sergeant just called to inform us that the kid has gotten away from his escorts. They don't know where he is now."

"Why am I not surprised?", the caseworker moaned.

Midland, Texas - 2000 C.E.

Pagan flung sweat from his hair, keeping a watchful eye on his opponent. Suddenly the man rushed forward, right fist raised high to deliver an overhand strike with the short length of bamboo he clutched.

Pagan entered deeply, 'irimi tenkan', stepping in as he met the descending wrist with his hand, then turned hard, striking at the man's face with his free hand.

The man moved with it, his entire body flipping over to get his head out of the way, his back arching and his feet flying up in the air. He landed, slapping hard with his free hand, his other still captured by Pagan.

Pagan released him and they repeated it on the left side. Then twice more.

"Damn, kiddo, your technique is already way beyond mine, and I've been practicing for thirty years. You definitely deserved your shodan (first degree black belt) certificate.", the man said. "When are you going to test again?"

"I don't know Gunny, there's no rush.", Pagan replied. "We both know that the ranking only exists to acknowledge skills that have already been accomplished - I'm not really impressed with rank, only ability."

"Damn, that is SO fucking 'Zen' of you boy.", Gunny exclaimed. "No wonder those welfare geeks told us you were weird when we applied to be your foster parents. They don't have a fucking clue, do they?"

"Not a one Gunny, not a one.", Pagan responded. "By the way, speaking of your application, just why did you and Maggie want to foster me anyway - especially after you heard how 'weird' I was?"

Gunny chuckled, and replied. "Well, I've been called 'weird' by a bunch of people over the years, but Maggie loves me anyway. I'd seen you practicing, off and on, here in the dojo, and thought to myself, 'who is that kid' - so I asked sensei who you were, and he filled me in. He also told me that they were running out of prospective foster parents in your case. I got the impression that he wasn't too fond of your keepers, and I could see that he was really proud of you. Well, that was enough for me, so I rushed home to 'sound' Maggie out on the idea of trying to foster you, and she went absolutely gaga over it. Hell, she dragged me to bed and tried to fuck my brains out. I think the idea of being a momma flipped some kind of maternity switch in her head. I've never seen her so turned on. And you should have heard her after those welfare creeps left. "Just who in the Hell do they think they are, talking about our boy like that?" She was so mad, I expected her to start spitting bullets. I would've laughed, if hadn't been afraid she'd start spitting them at me."

By this time, Pagan was laughing so hard, he couldn't catch his breath.

Gunny just grinned, and headed for the showers.

Pagan sat quietly in the darkened room. He'd finally bullied Maggie into going home to get some rest, and now it was just him, and the still, silent figure fighting for life - while the life support machinery provided the only noise to be heard.

"Please don't leave us Gunny.", he whispered to half, of the only two people he'd ever come to love, since his parents were killed.

"Maggie and I need you.", he pleaded, grasping the large, weathered hand. "I'm not asking for myself, but Maggie couldn't take it if you leave."

He prayed silently, "Oh blessed Lady, please don't take him from us. I know he'd be welcome in your halls, great warrior that he is. But Maggie needs him - I need him. There's still so much he hasn't taught me. I'll go back to welfare, if you wish it. I can run circles around those bums, so I'm not afraid to go back. Just keep him here for Maggie till they can go together, side by side."

The hours of the night crept slowly by, as Pagan kept his lonely vigil - his small frame frequently racked by silent grief.

Shadow Base, Austin, Texas - 2001 C.E.

"We've found her Strike Leader!", the excited Shade reported. "She's been positively identified."

"Where is she?", Maera demanded.

"She's living in an apartment complex, close to the UT campus. One of our people is maintaining close surveillance on her."

"Good, I'll be ready to leave as soon as I round up my team.", Maera replied.

"Beg pardon, Strike Leader, if I may be so bold...", started the Shade.

"Yes? What is it?", Maera inquired.

"Wouldn't it be better to bring her here?", asked the Shade. "Our walls are sound-proofed and we have a large wooded area which is ideal for burying garbage."

"Excellent suggestion!", Maera exclaimed. "Please see to it kinsman."

Tam Llewellyn was beaming, as he rushed from the room. Finally! The stain on his family's honor was about to be eradicated.

As the woman regained consciousness, she began to struggle against her bonds.

"Where am I?" she demanded. "Who are you people, why have you brought me here, what do you want with me?"

"Welll.", Maera drawled. "We might be bikers, looking for fresh meat, or we might be gangbangers in need of a little entertainment - Hell, we might even be cultists, in need of a human sacrifice. But, unfortunately for you, we're none of the above. What we are, you bitch, are a bunch of extremely pissed-off, bloody-minded Celts, who've had our kinsman stolen from us, and WE WANT HIM BACK!"

"What are you talking about, what kinsman?", the terrified woman wailed. "I don't know anything about your kinsman."

"The BABE!", Maera hissed. "The babe you stole from his crib twelve years ago, the babe you snaggled from the midst of kith and kin to sell like a suckling pig at market. What did you do with our babe?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!", the woman wailed.

She recoiled in terror from the predatory smile, which appeared on Maera's face.

She began to tremble, as Maera drew a blade and tested its edge against the ball of her thumb.

She closed her eyes to block out the sight of the blood, slowly dripping from the unflinching Shade's hand.

And, finally, she began to scream - and scream - and scream.

The screaming went on for a VERY long time.

"What now Strike Leader?", asked, a very depressed, Fiona. "What's to do now?"

"I don't know, Fiona - I just don't know.", replied, an equally depressed Maera. "She didn't know what became of him after she sold him. She buried herself so deep, trying to evade our justice, that she lost track of the couple who bought him. But we won't stop searching. I'll never yield the field, so long as breath remains in my body. The Goddess willing, we'll find a way."

"Veritas!", came a united murmur, from about the room.

Shadow Base, Austin, Texas - 2002 C.E.

"He's been located, Strike Leader!", stammered an extremely excited Shade. "We've found him!"

Maera leapt to her feet, coming instantly alert. "How? Where?", she exultantly inquired.

"One of the in-house Shades was fooling around, killing time, when he hacked into the state's mainframe database.", replied the excited Shade. "It suddenly occurred to him to enter a query about Daevlyn, and BINGO - he struck the mother lode. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff that's popping up about our boy - why, he's..."

"Not now, Adara!", Maera interrupted, "We'll have time to go over all that later. Where IS he?"

"Midland, Strike Leader, he's in Midland.", Adara replied.

Midland, Texas - 2002 C.E.

Pagan was very careful to make no noise, as he climbed out the bedroom window - not that he was really worried about waking the drunks, sleeping it off in the next room, but habit is a stern mistress. He never noticed the approaching Shades. Nobody but an Adept could have seen a Shade, who was exercising discipline.

"What should we do, Strike Leader?", murmured Fiona, as they watched Pagan disappear down the street.

"We follow.", replied Maera. "We follow, and await an opportunity to confront him when there's little likelihood of being observed. Send Adara back for the bus and tell her to monitor the com - we'll need her if he snags a ride.

West Texas - 2002 C.E.

Pagan O'Rourke was pissed! Not that it would come as any surprise to anyone who knew him, the general consensus being that Pagan was always pissed. While not exactly true, thus was he perceived to be.

The name, "Pagan O'Rourke", was legendary among the select few - the children entrapped in the state's foster-care bureaucracy. A child awakens, crying, in the middle of the night, the nightmare still fresh in his, or her, mind. Reliving the memory of indifferent or, worse, malicious abuse. Another child offers comfort, whispering, "Pagan will get the bastards, he always makes them pay. Don't worry, Pagan loves us."

Wherever the children gathered, there were always requests for Pagan stories. There was always at least one who claimed to actually know him. They would listen for hours, as the expert regaled them with their hero's most memorable exploits; cherry-bombing the toilets at child welfare's offices, Ex-Lax in the social workers' candy, daring escapes from foster homes, and disappearing from the back seats of locked cop cars. Although some of the stories may have been slightly exaggerated, some aspects appeared so consistently - they were deemed to be gospel; (a). he was 13 years old, (b). he had been in foster care since he was a baby, (c). he was extremely smart and spoke several languages fluently (d). he had a black belt in Aikido, and (e). he resisted all attempts to force his attendance at church. Regardless of their veracity, the stories never failed to instill hope and bring comfort to those that had little of either in their young lives.

Meanwhile, Pagan was still pissed. His last ride had dropped him off in the middle of nowhere, between Odessa and Barstow, and he only had two bucks in his pocket. For those who have never experienced the pleasure of a trip to the area, imagine being stranded somewhere in the middle of the Sahara - complete with sand dunes.

Being fluent in TexMex, he had stopped for dinner in a migrant workers' camp the night before... the cops never thought to look for him in places like that, though he did get deported to Mexico by INS once. He figured, rightly, that it would be better to keep his mouth shut and find a way back to the states, than have INS turn him over to the cops. Memory of flour tortillas, beans, and brisket floated through his mind while his belly grumbled, "yeah, but what have you done for me lately?"

"Oh, shut up", he said. "At least we're not on the way back to our benevolent state's fondler care - in the back seat of another cop car."

"Who are you talking to?", inquired a feminine voice from somewhere behind him.

"Shiiiiit!" he exclaimed, spinning around. "Where did you come from?"

'Damned if she's one of the goon squad', he thought. 'If they'd had anybody that looked that good, I'd never have left!.'

Standing before him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Long, dark-auburn hair combined with blue eyes, so dark they were almost black. An elven face with lips that were a cross between Angelina Jolie, Kim Basinger, and Liv Tyler. Perfect tits - somewhere between an A and B cup - sported huge nipples that just begged to be sucked. All this on a five foot athletic body. Only then, did he notice the Colt Commander holstered under her left arm, and the three combat knives strategically distributed about her camo-clad form.

'Lara Croft, eat your heart out', he thought - finally noticing several more women scattered out behind her.

She abruptly dropped to one knee and placed her hand over her heart. "Maera ap Dafys, Shadow Master of the Dragon's Blood, Shieldmate to The Flameblade, presents herself before her true liege lord, giving oath of absolute fealty - until death shall sunder her vow. She beseeches you to accept her into your service, lest she be shamed before men and gods."

'Brighid's sacred tits', he thought. 'Did I eat some bad food last night? I'd think it was a dream, if I weren't so damned hot and thirsty. Talk to her, you dummy. You've read tons of stuff about the Arthurian code of chivalry, so take your time, and give her the sincere response she deserves.'

"I, Daevlyn Brigand O'Rourke - before men and gods - bid well come to Maera ap Dafys, and gratefully accept her pledge, vowing to honor her commitment with all my heart. I, in return, pledge my life, will, and sacred honor to her future welfare. My right arm I dedicate to her preservation - from this day forth."