Once free, she clung to him tightly, uncaring of the dress or the slaughter that Edgar was doing. His jovial disposition put her off, but she wouldn't let go for even a second. That was just how he was. Right? The gallop of the horse felt right, natural under her frame as she pressed her cheek into his strong back.

But her breast were different. So much was different. Was this different? She bit her bottom lip softly, trying to piece together the confusion. What was so different, other than her breast? How did she end get captured by that mob? Or end up beign called a witch in the first place. Her thoughts were pulled from its train as he spoke, her mind unable to ignore him.

"Of course I knew you would, I was . . . .Just scared," she muttered, hiding her face in shame. Guilt. She felt bad she had forgotten, had gotten to scared to believe in him. But here he was, saving her, again. "Edgar . . . I'm so sorry, but . . . I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she confessed, feeling the steed beneath them come to a slow canter. Her eyes were puffy, her throat sore, but she could tell that it seemed like some refugee camp around her. "Shadow? Is that what this is?" And who was the Inquistior? She gave a small shove to his back, sitting up from him a little.

"I am NOT a slave," she gave hoarsely, clearing her throat, now that the danger had passed.

“Hey!” He glanced over his shoulder after the little shove. “I never said you were a slave, just that a lot of the guys were going to keep you and the other prisoners as slaves, which I might add I prevented.” He grinned bringing the horse to a stop.

She was helped off the steed and Edgar dismounted. “What's that? Oh, thank you Edgar,” he grinned and gestured to one of the locksmiths to come forth to get those manacles off her. He had to say he like the look of her in chains.

“Clean up and we will speak later.” He nodded and departed seeing to his steed while the manacles where removed and she was given fresh clothes to change into. There was a steam nearby to wash up at if she wished.

Eventually Edgar finds her or she finds him the other horsemen are present now as are the archers.

“This Shadow, Purian is a world. Each Shadow is another reality, one can move between them if they learn how and each is governed by it's own rules.

“Inquisitor Rhodes caught you once before but all spellcasters are evil here, out lawed by the church. Other Shadows, like Brindel are less lax … but seeing how that inquisitor has it out for you we are best to get you to my brother Miller. He's a hermit but before he was a hermit he was a mage of moderate skill and can walk the Shadow to these other realities where you will be safe.”

"Oh," came her polite reply, thanking the smithy for freeing her. She grimaced at her wrist. A light red had encased the limb where she had struggled. She couldn't help but feel the look that the man had given her as the smithy was working at her locks. She gave a small swallow, seeing the fondness he held, trying to keep her own eyes lowered. A bath sounded timely. "Thanks, again, Edgar . . ." There were so many more question she wanted to ask of him, but now he needed to rest. The blood and gore on her own dress needed tending, or replacing, she'd hope as she was lead to the steam bath.

She took her time, letting her body soak up the water and her wrist to be soothed by its heat, trying to use the time to collect herself. "How did they know of my magic." She looked down troubled at her naked body, lifting her hands to her eyes. The irritation from the manacles had faded, but were still faintly seen, while her hands were pristine and clean.

My magic. What was the connection that was lost here? She wasn't sure, positively. But surely Edgar would enlighten her. Especially with what he was saying earlier, about changing her mind. Why was everything such a blank?

Having spent long enough, she hurried and dried, wearing the small, modest dress that was offered, enjoying how clean it was, not carrying the burnt or bloodied scent of the killing ground earlier.

"I was . . .brought to the stake . . . This world is but Shadow, a realm. How is that even possible and, moreso, why can't I remember anything before teh wagon, other than your name," she asked quietly, trying to ignore the archers nearby. She wanted to ask more. Like this Rhodes character and, if the worlds were so different, how did they end up meeting, less being saved by eachother. This was all so confusing.

Edgar had cleaned himself up at his pavilion. In fact he had brought her there to get some privacy though they spoke to each other on the way. She of course had plenty of questions and Edgar, while he did not have all the answers, had many of them.

“Sanctity. The inquisitor used that Blessing on you to limit your spellcasting from the modest levels they were at. It stripped a good portion of your memories as a temporary effect.

“Basic spells will be all that you remember but the memories will return along with the spellcasting over the next few days. So, are you telling me we have to start all over again? And I was so close last time, I suppose I'll just have to begin all over again.

“But this world is but a Shadow, all worlds are Shadow worlds save for the great Avalon that has no equal”

He considered one of her questions the sought to try to answer it. “All realms are Shadows of Avalon, what could have been if it evolved differently is probably the easiest way of putting it. But there is no wonder that you remembered my name, he want me.” He grinned. “Which only encourages me to keep at it.” He grinned playfully at that. “ Now I'm sure you have lots of questions that you can place forth once we get to my pavilion.”

Narrisa took in stock his words, quietly absorbing them, only giving short nods and gestures for him to continue. Sanctity. What sort of process . . . "Surely, they must know a spell to be able to cast of that sort. But you said I would recall it in time, so I won't be consumed with the worry for now." She came closer to him, trying to figure out why such important details were beyond her.

She tried to recall magic that she had used . . . Closing her eyes, she lifted her mana to her skin, feeling where it was easiest to bubble up in. Her fingertips tingled, palms itched with heat. She opened her eyes.

"Fire . . . . That's all I have." She shivered, realizing she would have been destroyed by the very power she was left with. "Edgar, how cruel they are." She looked down, wondering what it would have been if he was a second too late, if he had not come to her rescue. She found her throat suddenly dry. "I hope my memories return soon," she whispered, more to herself than anything.

"Start over? Edgar, what do you mean, you silly goose," she half glared, no heat in her eyes as she prodded him with her finger. Even some of her mana was still heating her fingertips to allow like a fake prodding stick. How could he answer so many questions and ring even more up into her thoughts! She was beginning to find it quiet sufferable, but not wholly a intolerable a trait.

Walking with him seemed to be second nature, speaking and reacting to him almost like instinct. Why did it feel so normal, so effortless to be around him? "'No wonder?' 'Keep at it?' Keep at what!?" she half huffed, stomping closer as they continued to the pavilion. What was a pavilion again?, she thought silently to herself

“Rhodes must have a twisted sense of humor or it's jut mere coincidence.” He shook his head. “Book magic is magic for heretics, for witches but Blessings … since you are born either with or without the gift you are chosen by the Gods to use Divine magic ...” He touched on two of the three types of magic.

The pavilion was a large tent set up at the middle of the camp. He had refrained from answering the little mystery until they were out of site though it was probably he least of the secrets.

“I had asked to marry you, You refused saying it was too dangerous though we began making plans to see Miller when you were captured a second time by Rhodes. Apparently you've forgotten what you have learned of Rhodes and the church. You seemed afraid of Rhodes, knew something but refrained from speaking about it.”

Narrisa nodded, following his steps precisisly as she continued to listen to the information that he gave. So there was Books, Blessings and . . . .something else she wasn't sure of. Perhaps from Avalon. "Thanks again, for going through all this trouble, Edgar, she gave, nudging her shoulder with his. She gave nothing more as she realized he was growing silent towards the large tent ahead, his eyes darting from left to right, it seemed he wouldn't speak more, at least, out here with so many ears and eyes. Was this place not as safe as she had thought?

Walking into the tent, she allowed him to hold the flap open for him, nodding her head in gratitude. Only once the flap was down, ensuring the world was cut off from their words, did she hear the ones that would rock her own.

"Bethrothal?" Narrisa gasped, taking a step back. "I . . . I think I would remember that," she said, forlornly, looking down at the floor, the large rug that the stepped on. Her right hand had rushed without wait towards her earlobe, rubbing it and giving small tugs as she processed this suddent weight in her chest. Guilt? Yes. How could she forget someone that had cared so much for her, that had saved her life so many times. "Edgar . . . I'm so sorry," she whispered in just over a squeak. She didn't want to ask who this 'Miller' was, too busy trying to swallow the lump down in her chest.

No memory, no feelings other than the ease of how effortless it was to speak with him. No flashes of memory, no heart fluttering at the sight of him. It was like . . . It never happened. But if it did, she felt horrible, giving a small groan as she held her head, as if she could will her memories to return. "Edgar, I don't remember anything!" she yelped, looking up at him in distress. "I'm so sorry."

If this Rhodes had the power to even vanish memories and emotions . . . She shivered. Fear was in her heart, tightening it over this unknown person. But . . .if Rhodes had tried to so hard before and succeeded near twice . . . what would stop him for going for a third???

He took her hands in his larger ones and shook his head.

“Nari … it isn't your fault. You can't remember much though there's not much to remember from last time. Well, other than the fact that you want me.” he grinned and gestured obviously kidding about matters.

“We met, my men saved us and we tried to get some distance away but Rhodes had other plans. This time though I decided to check out one of these public executions. Last time … well I did propose during our journey but you denied stating that being around you was too dangerous.

“But … seeing how things might have turned out today maybe you'll reconsider this.”

His larger hands did little for her guilt, but the attempt at calming her did still her heart. She looked down, finding her darker skin to be that of such a contrast in his. Her's were smaller, softer, where his was more gruff, large and callous from the weapons of war that he weilded. 'My nickname.' She blushed when she caught her name on his lips, looking off to the side . . .Before giving him a playful kick. "Seriously?"

"SO . . . how did he get to me then? I don't want to make the same mistake and fall into that situation again." She didn't see anyone in the crowd that had looked too different from one another. Everyone glared, scathing her with their eyes long before the first torch came close to her. What if he walked by her and she didn't even know! She gave a soft gulp. But he knew and likely, the men that fought here did too.

"Yes, I think i will stay . . .at least until the next Shadow," she confessed.

He grinned at the playful kick. “Should I call you Princess Narissa then?

“I haven't figured out how he knew whether it was some Diving Blessing or worse. He just showed up with a ton of men. He didn't even seem interested in apprehending us, just you which turned out to be a mistake on his part since we came back for you.

“I'm not speaking about this Shadow or the next but rather being at your side. Of course I understand, a witch and bandit don't make for the best combination.”

The witch huffed, puffing air into her cheeks like a chipmunk. A 'Don't you dare' glare in her eyes. But even she couldn't hold back the small chuckle that left her lips, the puffs of angry air soon evaporating. "Then we need to be more careful, for certain," she nodded as she walked around the pavilion casually, trying to gauge exactly what type of person that Edgar was behind his sword and smile.

She was glad her head was turned when he spoke those words. It didn't matter where they were . . . he still wanted to be near to her. Like a knight in shining armor. But the shock in her eyes widened as she snapped back. "Wait . . .You're a bandit?!" she squeaked.

The vision of her knight in shining armor crumbled like fine China in her eyes.

"How did I get in touch with a bandit??"

As she walked about the tent she would see that there was an odd display or artwork. Crude sculptures and various masks all used by the humanoid tribes of orcs and goblins. Did he have an interest in them? Use them in his attacks?

But even with her back turned to him it was clear that she felt the weight of his gaze sweeping over her, his hands grasping her upper arms, strong lips settled against her neck as a strong tongue swept against her darker neck.

“How we met? Oh, that was simple. I was captured and you were a short time later. My men came to rescue me and since you and those that were captured earlier had been present they debated what to do with you all and wanted to sell you all as slaves but I told them we weren't into that sort of thing.

“We couldn't really return the women home though since in most cases it was their neighbors accusing them so the girls were incorporated in our number but you, you were an actual witch and we had to deal with Rhodes and trying to get you some place safe but alas you got captured again so I had to toss up robbing the King's gold shipment or rescuing you, a no brainier either way … I mean I guess I could have gotten a dozen wenches with he gold but I definitely would not feel as good about it. Sometimes being a bandit is so frigging tough.”

Really, it was no big deal. He rubbed her arms sliding them against her's then set his above her own hands. “We'll be careful, this time I really think we should see Miller.”

Her eyes stared in restrained fasciation, the smile on the artifacts held back from trying to appear too giddy. They seemed from different cultures, different manners of craftsmanship showed that it varied from regions. He must have been a well travelled man. Such a life only made sense for that of a bandit. If they stayed in place for too long, surely the owners of such fine artistry would haste towards them without relent. Narrisa stopped at one particular mask, not looking into it, but having her back turn, could feel the attention on her.

She gave a short gasp when he grabbed at her, her body instantly sent to molten at the first swipe of his tongue. The moan that bursted from her could not be held back, closing her eyes in his embrace. She cooed a little as he gave her his affection, listening to his explanation.

"You gave up a king's bounty . . . For me?" She blushed. She gave a small chuckle. "No one's making you stay there . . . That was," she paused to find the right word. " . . . Kind of you. Saving those girls." She knew only too well that it would take nothing for a frenzy of fear to blot out the chance of innocence for them. The fear was truly the only evidence some people, most in this Shadow's case, of a woman being a witch, for her to be killed. She looked down in solemnness. The two burnt woman at the stake before her. Were they truly as they were called? . . . She didn't want to think the other way.

She closed her eyes, feelings his hands over her arms brought her comfort, wanting him to close his hands over hers. Again, this Miller character. "What is he? A person that can open the Shadows?" she asked, leaning her head back on his taller, mountain of a frame.

Edgar didn't seem to mind touching her. Either they had been intimidate before or he picked up on the fact that she did not truly mind it. Fingers grazed over the skin of her arms up then down feather light. His lips set against that neck in places as he applies his tongue liberally.

His hands move to her waste after a time slowly climbing up her sides. “I never said I was a good bandit … besides they will be other treasures to steal but only one I truly wish o acquire and that is your heart.”

His hand wounds her chest setting over her left breast. “This. What beats beneath.” He squeezes the breast even as he steps closer to her, his firm erection poking against her ass as he brings his mouth up to an ear sweeping against the earlobe there then dipping behind it.

“The girls deserve a better life. It's not their fault that we have a bunch of idiots on this Shadow.

“Miller is my brother. Essentially he is a hermit know but could walk the Shadows. He can lead us to the next, a safer Shadow. Interested?”

She was sinking into his hold, both emotionally and physically. How could she forget a man with hands like these??? She sighed with a flutter in her breath, drinking in his words as he kissed her ear, sending shivers through her spine. Damn, her body knew how to respond but not her. Damn, why couldn't she remember?!

"Maybe a lil piss poor for missing out on that anndd getting captured once,"she teased, but even the strength behind that was crawling out of her, kissed out by his lips, rubbed away by those calloused hands of his. She gave a desperate moan. "But what about your bandits? The girls? What will become of them?" she asked, trying to keep her mind coherent of this sensual play he was having on her. But of course her answer came simple. Yes. a place she didn't have to hide. A place where he can not be in danger because of her . . . Not so much the other way around. He didn't seem like a person to give up his day job. But most importantly.

A Shadow, a world without Rhodes . . .

"Mmm . . .I think I'd like that," she said, more to herself than to him.