<em>The waxing moon hung low over the fields, giving just enough light for the young man to find his way, though he clearly knew the trail he followed well.  Beneath the finely made doublet he wore could be seen the faint gleam of chainmail and a helmet covered his dark blond hair.  As he drew nearer to the ruins of what had once been a small fortified keep at the base of the hills, he slowed his pace, his right hand moving to silently draw the short sword that hung at his side. <br/><br/>Thus armed, he left the path, approaching the half-fallen walls from the side, keeping a wary eye out. Nothing untoward presented itself but he did not lower his guard, continuing to inch closer to the structure.  Then his sharp eye caught movement in the shadows to one side and he spun, sword at the ready in an instant.  "Come forward, brigand," he hissed.  "You shall find me ready to face you in fair combat.  Though perhaps that is not to your liking, since you seem to so much prefer to strike from the shadows at the helpless!"<br/><br/>As he spoke, the target of his wrath did indeed step forward into the dim light, and as the outline of the figure was revealed the young man's bravery fell away.  Certainly his opponent was of intimidating size, a good foot taller than the young man, who was at least of average height; but it was not this alone that gave him pause.  No, the creature he faced -- for it was assuredly not human -- gleamed from head to foot as did the man's sword and helmet, more heavily armored than any knight, yet moving as though not burdened in the slightest.<br/><br/>Recovering somewhat, the young man again raised his weapon, though he no longer had the strength to taunt his adversary.  "What manner of..." he began, his voice trailing off in confusion.<br/><br/>The creature, meanwhile, was silently studying the man, seeming to reach a decision after a moment or two.  "<strong>Approved</strong>," it said, in a voice that crackled like distant thunder, causing the young man to flinch.<br/><br/>Still, when the creature raised its arms as though to grapple its opponent, the man did not hesitate to defend himself.  His sword flashed out expertly, landing a blow that would surely have rocked any normal adversary.  But though sparks flew, the creature did not seem to notice the weapon, instead focusing all its attention on the man wielding it.<br/><br/>A silvery hand gripped the man's right shoulder and he cried out, only just managing to keep hold of his weapon.  Unable to break free, he switched the sword to his left hand and once more lashed out with some skill, but again the beast ignored it.<br/><br/>Now the creature seized the young man's other shoulder, causing him to cry out, and the sword fell to the ground.  He continued to resist, however, struggling uselessly against his captor until a brief pressure on his neck sent him into unconsciousness.  The entire encounter took barely a minute.<br/><br/>With one smooth, effortless motion, the strange being swept the man up over its shoulders and turned to retreat back into the shadows.  Then it tilted its head, paused, and turned back, also scooping up the fallen sword.<br/><br/>A few moments later, there was no sign that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened there.</em><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Isabel Pennington knew better than to eavesdrop on her father's conversations, but tonight she felt compelled to make an exception.  There had been another development in the mystery that had plagued the village and its surroundings for weeks now -- no doubt someone else had vanished -- but her parents had been increasingly stubborn of late about discussing the situation with their youngest daughter despite the fact that she was twenty and more than capable of handling bad news.  As the only child left at home her father often told her that she was expected to look after and help her mother, but in practice it was far more common for Isabel to be treated as if she was still an infant, a fact she quietly resented.<br/><br/>So now Isabel sat in the crook of the back stairs, just outside the reach of the flickering firelight, listening to her father and two of his closest friends discuss the situation.  Except, maddeningly, they had so far only hinted at the most recent disappearance.  Worse, though she was sure they must think themselves alone, they spoke quietly, at times too low for her to hear, and she dared not sit any closer.  Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she stifled a sigh and leaned very slightly forward.<br/><br/>"When it was only the peasants going missing, you were ready enough to forget it all."  This sharp comment came from Sir Henry, their next door neighbor.<br/><br/>"The lower classes are irresponsible," was the equally tart reply from Lord Bertram, which was only as Isabel expected -- he seemed always at odds with Sir Henry, no matter the subject.  "Thoughtless!  It is hardly a surprise when one or two of them wander off, no doubt drunk, and get themselves lost.  Generally they have the sense to wander back, but this time they must have simply --"<br/><br/>"Fallen into the caves, yes, yes," Sir Henry interrupted.  "We have heard all this before.  But even you must grant that this cannot be the case.  One or two might be so explained, but five?  The situation has greatly changed."<br/><br/>"Yes, and that is why I asked you here tonight.  Not to relive the old arguments."  This gently chiding reply came from Isabel's father, Lord John, as always the calmest and most practical.  "None can now deny that something must be done, quickly.  The townsfolk look to us for leadership and we must give it."  Then he sighed, lowering his voice so that Isabel barely caught his next words.  "I can scarcely speak to that myself," he admitted, "since I have as yet lacked the courage to tell Isabel of the matter."<br/><br/>"You have not?" Lord Bertram said, clearly surprised.  "Why should it signify to the girl?  The betrothal is long dissolved, as well it should be.  The boy's family turned traitor!"<br/><br/>Isabel only barely smothered a gasp, forgetting all about the rest of the conversation.  It was William who had vanished, William de Burton, and now she understood her parents' silence.  Until his family had thrown in with the Yorkist rebels, they had been intended to marry.  Since then Isabel's matrimonial fate had been uncertain.<br/><br/>But she had liked William and had considered herself lucky to be marrying someone she might call a friend.  The wars had changed all that and she had not seen him for two years, but she still thought of him fondly.  And now he was gone, and this could not be blamed on too much drink -- not that she had ever believed that to be the solution.  No, like many young men William could be reckless, ever determined to prove himself, but he would surely not have worried his family by disappearing... had he been allowed a choice in the matter.<br/><br/><br/><br/>It was not a long walk to the ruins, and the moon was well up in the sky when she arrived.  The men had talked of armed expeditions and other such plans, but she was too impatient to wait.  William might yet be alive, all the missing might be, and there was no time to waste.  Besides, stealth was what was needed, the chance to gather information, and there she would do far better than armed men.  She wore her riding clothes so she could move more easily, and carried her bow and arrows.  Though she did not entirely care for hunting, she had been glad to learn to shoot, and now the skill might serve her well.<br/><br/>There was no hope of finding any trace of his passage, but she was sure William had come here.  The villagers already thought the ruins haunted, always talking of odd lights and shadows there, and of late they had also spoken of strange sounds as well.  Whatever force was at work, it began here, she was sure.<br/><br/>As if on cue, a beam of light shone up from the ruins, far too bright and blue-white to be fire.  It looked like a moonbeam, though one amplified far beyond nature, and she flinched slightly at its power.  What could make such light? she wondered, beginning to doubt the wisdom of her plan.<br/><br/>Then a shadow moved through the beam and she flinched again, chiding herself for her nerves.  The ruins held neither ghost nor monster, and she could face a human enemy if she had to.  She readied her bow, approaching cautiously as the shadow moved again.<br/><br/>Stepping around to a gap in the half-collapsed walls, she caught sight of what was casting the shadow -- an ordinary man, as far as she could see, tall and fairly lean, silhouetted against the light.  She squinted, unsure of her ability to get a clean shot if it became necessary, though the man did not seem to be armored.<br/><br/>That was when she stumbled over a stray block of stone, the faint sound like thunder in the darkness.<br/><br/>She stopped herself from falling, at least, but any hope of observing quietly was gone.  Resettling the arrow, she aimed her weapon squarely at the man's chest, her heart beating in her ears.  "Stand back!" she ordered, though her voice quavered slightly.  "Where is William?"