As you get higher up, Qui-Gon decided, the atmosphere made it harder the
breathe, and the temperature took a decided dip, but the sheer majesty of
the scenery more than made up for it.
  Of course it would have been much more enjoyable without the extra
'baggage' he was carrying...

  "This... is... mad...ness.." puffed the Anaran clinging to him, his breath
coming out as small clouds of crystalline gas as it met the chill.  "We...
could.... have... been... com..for..table.... at... the base... or..even..
the village!  If we... were... meant.. to scale.. cliffs, we.. would have..
evolved.. R'ket... hooves."

  "Nobody forced you to come." Qui-Gon reminded him as he leapt up the last
15 feet with the Tanaken in hand to land on the flat ledge the R'ket and
their riders had already navigated.  "In fact, it would have been much
easier if you had stayed behind."  *Much* easier.  The complaining Anaran
was beginning to get on his nerves---Jedi legendary patience or no.

  "With..a..bunch...of...sus..pic..ous...Kievet?  Na..thank..you."  Pohl
gasped his relief as the big Jedi set him down on a sizeable patch of ground
that was actually horizontal in nature.  Prairie--how he hated the
mountains!  Too damned vertical and *cold*.  He eagerly snatched up the
small, reddish, bread roll that K'tay offered him, biting down and chewing
vigourously.  Blessed warmth flooded his body as the ground red pakha mixed
in to the pastry reacted with his digestive tract.

  Qui-Gon politely refused a similar offering from K'yer.  With the Force,
he could regulate his own body heat for quite a while without depriving the
others of the needed herb that helped their bodies deal with the harsh
environment.  Instead he looked around the moderately sized cave they had
ended up in as the others savored their food.  It was clean and dry, the
walls decorated with intricate etchings of plants and animals and the very
mountains themselves.  The floor was bare save for a large blanket and a few
logs of wood and chunks of wood apparently left for use as a campfire pit.
Apparently this place was not meant for extended stays.  He moved to help
K'tay unbind Nicholas from a 'borrowed' R'ket that they had strapped him
into.

  It was fortunate that the former padawan's body had shrunk to near Kievet
size, the Jedi Master mused, or he would have had to have carried both Nick
and Pohl up the mountain side as the R'ket could not carry too much weight
and still climb the hard rock.  The 'human' hardly weighed more than a
5-year old now, having rapidly lost almost half Ayar's original mass.
Qui-Gon wondered if the change was something genetic that Ayar would have
naturally gone through had he not been killed, if it was due to the
alienness of Nick's presence over it, or if the mutation was caused by the
very planet they were on.  He doubted it was Nick's fault.  The Earth knight
had told him back at the Temple that he had been considered more on the
taller side for his species.   True, Ayar's Master had never mentioned
anything unusual to the Council that Qui-Gon was aware of.  Not that *they*
would inform him---but Yoda might have, beeing as the two Knights had been
close friends while growing up at the Temple.  Still, he was getting the
distinct impression from the Force that it was the planet itself  that was
doing the changing.
Anara reclaiming its own?
He wished he could discuss the possibility with Obi-Wan, but his own padawan
was too far away now for them to converse over the training bond.  All he
could do was sense feelings from the other---which right now seemed to be
amused irritation.
Nothing unusual there, Jinn thought with a wry smile, though usually *he*
was the subject of his padawan's annoyance.  Matek must be taking his place.
Poor Matek.

   Nicholas slumped in his grasp as he set him in the center of the cave,
the unblinking bluish-purple eyes holding a vacant quality that said that no
one was at home, and unlikely to be arriving back soon.  It was very
disturbing to witness this lack of Life in someone who just days ago he had
come to respect.

  "Will he be all right?" Qui-Gon asked K'yer.

  Taking off his R'ket's riding harness, the elder K'tlyan sighed.  He
busied himself unloading  and laying out the wet branches they had brought
from the valley below to replenish the dry ones already in the cave.

  "That is up to Nik-ah-las and his predator Companion.  Naught even
K'yavanti can change a mind which refuses to change."  Green eyes looked
haunted in memory.

  Interesting...you think of the vampire personality as a 'Companion'?

  "Hrr..aye.  Aye, from what K'tay storied to me and K'..our brother before,
the 'vampire' is such to your Nik-ah-las."

  Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully as he mused aloud, "But I
understood that a 'Companion' in your view is a helper of sorts.  I'm sorry,
but that is not how Nick himself considers their relationship.  More as an
unwanted advesary, parasite, or at best a jailkeeper.  Now I'm told the
Companion is 'hunting' his charge which only seems to agree with that
perspective.  This hardly seems the role of a helper."

  "See this.  But believe what feel is correct even so.  This vampire has
helped Nik-ah-las.  K'tay has seen this in him.  Flying and healing it has
done for him.  But Nik-ah-las is blinding self to their...ayth---what is the
word the Anaran's use?  The sim-be-osays?  It is the cause of his...illness,
this naught wishing to accept the other.  There is fear from the one and
anger from the other because of the rejection.  Because of the guilt of
things done...and naught done.

  "My people say that fear and anger lead to the Darkside.  Forgive my
curiousity, but it seems to me you speak as if from experience."

  K'yer's mouth worked into a rueful grin.  "Is there another path to speak
from?" he asked.  "We also say that fear and anger lead to destruction."  He
moved closer, to stand before the towering Jinn.

  "My Mieket chose a way that was naught in harmony, this one followed his
example.  See the song we have sung in our folly, R'ket en Koruscan't?  Yet
the choice was known for what it was--though we certainly had naught
conception of the total effects they would have or we would have rethought
our choices."  Scratching his jaw, he amended:  "Or perhaps naught.  It is
hard to leave a path once decided upon.  One becomes comfortable in its
familiarity, the curves and dips."  He gestured at Nicholas.  "This one,
this Kien to my Kien who has become another.  He made a choice to be as he
is.  Maybe naught to be *as* he is---but he chose the path that brought him
to this point.  Now we can only offer him a way off that path.  We cannah
keep him from it---only show another way."

  "I agree," Qui-Gon nodded.  "Shall we then see about giving him that
choice while he still has it?"

  "Definitely, old one,"  Pohl snarled, wrapped tightly in the blanket that
he had appropriated.  "It's frig *cold* up here."

  The Singer almost growled in reply, but laughed instead.

  "Forgive!  A K'tlyan is also Storyteller as well as Singer, and this one
loves especially to Story.  Become as bad as Etwan, have."  He grinned
maliciously at the Tanaken.  "By Ava---aye---let us get started.  We wouldna
want the amiable Yellow One to be uncomfortable!  "K'tay?

  "Aye, Mieket?" the younger Singer looked up from where he had been coaxing
an unresponsive Nicholas to eat.

   "Start the fire so we will not freeze as we Spirit Journey, hrrr?.
R'ket, guard, please the cave entrance against Wind?"  His friendly eyes
narrowed upon lighting on the Doctor.  "And you?  What shall we have *you*
do, eh?  A disruption we donah need, but is too cold for you outside more so
than in!"  The 'why didn't you stay in your city?' he left unspoken, but
clearly written on his face.

  "I'll tend the fire while you all daydream---excuse me---Spirit Walk,"
Pohl grumbled, picking up a slender stick to poke the fire logs K'tay was
building up.  "Just try not to dawdle too much on your mental hikes."
 

  Firelight played with the images on the walls making them seem alive as
the orangish glow flickered over them.

  Instead of the loose circle the Jedi had been half expecting, K'yer had
directed them into a tight huddle with Nicholas in the middle.  This had the
effect of keeping their 'patient' supported by the press of their bodies.
It also caused their breath exhalations to mingle together.

  "Just so, Kwi G'wan.  We must work together to bring Nicholas on this
Journey, or will be left behind!  He canna do for himself---must do
for."---the forested eyes sparkled with humor---"Drag him along if need will
for the ride, if you will.  This one and K'tay will do so with Song.  You
must follow as your Spirit can, eh---use this Force as call it?  Link with
us and follow?"

  "I will endeavor to follow along as best I can."

  "Good.  Then we shall start by asking K'yavanti to aid our Journey."  His
irises swallowed up the black pupils, leaving nothing but mottled color.
K'tay's followed suit and a duet of soft humming began.  Qui-Gon prepared
himself to enter a meditation trance, but he sensed something was off, and
sure enough, both of the Kievet fell silent.

  K'tay looked a bit uneasy, body quavering a bit as he unconsciously leaned
more towards K'yer and Nick and away from the 'human' until K'yer quietly
pointed it out to him with sympathetic eyes.  Abashed, K'tay repositioned
himself, taking a firmer grip on the Jedi's outer cloak where he had let his
grasp loosen.

  "Apologies, Jedi R'ket, Elder.  Am na comfortable with being so close to
others as Mieket is."  He hung his head.

  "Apology accepted."  Qui-Gon nodded graciously, sending the Singer a wave
of assurance.  K'tay shyly smiled his thanks and they began again.  This
time the lilting voice was confident as the singing slowly became more
complex.  Qui-Gon used the soothing tones to center himself in the Force,
allowing the music to flow around him...become part of him... lift...  He
mentally held tighter to the still Force presence of Nicholas.

  From his place by the fire, Pohl snorted in disgust.  One of the R'ket's
echoed the sound, eyeing him balefully from its position at the cave
entrance where it and its brother's bulky forms kept the worst of the
mountain winds from entering the shelter.  He could almost fancy he could
understand the meaning in its eye:  Be silent, Trespasser, or we will make
you so!

  Grumbling silently to himself, he concentrated on the fire, the singing,
and waited.

  Surely it was just the cold that was making him feel suddenly so odd?
 

[Nicholas' Unconsious Mind]

  The Vampire sniffed the air and was gratified to find that the scent of
his prey was growing stronger.  Soon he would catch up with the Other and
the hunt would end with the sweet taste of victory on his tongue!   The
Beast roared in anticipation.

  Further down in the catacombs, Nicholas cringed as the ferocious sound
echoed down to where he was resting.  Clutching his broadsword tightly, he
got up and ran as fast as he could.  Lion or LaCroix, what ever it was that
was after him---he was certain he did not want to meet it!  He ran until he
ran out of breath and was forced to slow his retreat to a skipping walk even
though he could feel that something was getting closer.

  But now his conscience was screaming as loud as his fear.  His dear mother
had not given birth to a coward!  And what would his long-dead father think
of him?  Family honor and faith in God demanded he stand and fight his enemy
face on!  Had he fled so when fighting the Saracens?  Would he act so if
Fleur or Maman were threatened by evil?  No!  Reluctantly, he stumbled to a
halt and  turned around, sword held in a defense position.

  Beast or Monster, he would not dishonor his mother and sister any more
than he had already.  Had they not suffered enough because of his sins?

  "Come, foul thing---whatever you be!  But you will not kill me easily!"

  From the darkness emerged a humanoid sillouette, the torchlight falling on
glowing red eyes and glistening fangs...and a bit of golden hair.

  Not a lion.

  "LaCroix?"  Nick's voice quavered slightly, not sure whether he felt faint
from relief or sheer terror.

  "LaCroix?" a familiar rumble sounded.  "*Now* you call for our sire?  Oh,
but of course---I forgot," the baritone deepened with sarcasm, "--you only
called for him when you'd gotten yourself into such a tight spot that even
*I* could not get you out of it."  The sillouette stepped into the
torchlight.

  Gasping, Nick held his sword even tighter as he kept it pointed at the
vamped out vision of himself.

  "You!"

  "Me," the Vampire agreed, smiling darkly.  "The one you tried to keep
chained in the cellar of unconscious.  The one you let out only when *you*
desired, Crusader."  He slowly started circling his prey; enjoying the game.

  Nick countered by sidestepping to match, keeping the broadsword's point
between him and his antagonist.

  "Kept *you* chained?  What about what you did to *me*, Beast?  Did you
think I *enjoyed* watching you kill everyone I came into contact with?  You
fouled my soul with your unholy appetite!"

  "You wished me dead!"

  "I still do!" Nick avowed.

  "Then, foolish Crusader..
---attack and try!"

  "As you wish, Demon!"

  Raising his sword, Nick gave a battle cry as he prepared to swing his
weapon.

  The Vampire screamed defiance as it readied itself to spring forward.

  Neither was prepared for the sudden change in their footing when the stone
floor suddenly decided to become several feet of water.