<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">Ascot</span></span><br/><br/>As he stood sentry in the clearing, Ascot practiced his Eskrima moves, all the while remembering what his martial arts teacher had said, long ago, in one of their many private conversations.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I've been hired to teach you the art of self-defence, and were you any other student, I'd teach you that. But you, you know the origins of this art, how, like Karate, it was originally a way to conceal a </span>killing<span style="font-style: italic"> style. However, unlike Karate, Eskrima's past isn't forgotten among our people. You know the term for Filipinos in Palau, right?</span>Chad ra oles<span style="font-style: italic">, the people of the knife. And that's what I'm going to teach you; how to wield these rattan sticks as though they were blades, then move on to training daggers, and, if you won't tell your parents or the faculty about this,</span>swords.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">You question me, think me a crazy man, a </span>sira-ulo<span style="font-style: italic"> in my native tounge. You might even think me dangerous, that I'm trying to turn you into a killer. But, you're smarter than that, you know that I do care about my students, and I do care about you, my young friend. And you know this: that your happy life is something unnatural, when compared to the lives of many others. Even the happiest ones among you have problems; even your buddy, Leonid, has problems. You, on the other hand, don't, and you suspect that it's not going to last. Well, no charmed life lasts, Ascot, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't </span>prepare<span style="font-style: italic"> you for that. Besides, everyone needs a secret skill, don't they?</span><br/><br/>Well, Ascot learned, and all he had managed to save was himself, which, come to think of it, would have pleased his trainer. He was sure that his skills had come to play in his escape attempt, when he had tried to get himself and Mi'ksinaawa away from the Cultists, away from the ones who killed Leonid. Len and Mika; they were the two people who had given him strength, and, unkowingly to him, he had given them<span style="font-style: italic">strength</span>as well. While Ascot tried to untie the ropes binding the other sacrifices, as well as glean clues from the symbology he glimpsed, Mika fought those kids who, growing desperate, had turned on each other, while Len...Len was the one who created the map.<br/><br/>It wasn't much of a map, merely a piece of wood with bizzare charcoal lines, but Len had been able to decipher it. Each line, starting from a squiggle in the east (California), showed either a car route, a boat route, or a train route. As for how the Cultists didn't discover the map, Len used a piece of string from his handkerchief to create a lanyard, and wear the map as a pendant.<br/><br/>The intention, of course, was to hide it in plain sight.<br/><br/>It worked for a while, till one of the cultists - he still can't remember! - took the wooden pendant, and deciphered the lines. It was then that it was decided Len was too much trouble; he was a spare anyway; the main sacrifice would have to include one woman and one man.<br/><br/>He didn't remember what happened after that, but he can remember Leonid screaming, punching and kicking as he was pulled to the sacrificial altar, fighting like a wildcat, but ultimately failing against the superior strength of his captors. He can remember the knife, flashing brightly in the night as it stabbed through his best friend's chest, can remember the blood, and the screaming, some of it from him, some of it from Leonid. Then, all was a blur until the forest run, then the Cult's battle with Mercy, and his sundering from Mika.<br/><br/>Ascot sighed, survivor's guilt overtaking him for a moment, before his desire to do his duty interfered, forcing him into alertness. He was going to prove himself useful to his rescuers, dangit! They<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>save him, after all, and he owed them.<br/><br/>Especially Morgan, the one who had been the most forthcoming of the whole team. It was him that told the boy as much as he was allowed to; told him about the Secret Order, about their decimation by the unknown enemy, and about his quest, the one for Avalon. Morgan was a kind and trustworthy person, and the boy needed such people. Cynically, he also thought this: that Morgan found it easy to trust<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>, too, which was for the best since he needed a protector. However, Ascot put such thoughts outside his head; if Morgan was going to be his protector, he was going to<span style="font-style: italic">earn</span>the man's trust, dangit!<br/><br/>((End of Part 1))